Momma in the Valley

How wonderful a life I live that I get to snuggle and nurse one baby to sleep then crawl back in bed and snuggle another. How wonderful a life I live to get to be awake in the late hours of the night and the early hours of the morning, providing nourishment and safety. How wonderful a life I live to get to explore the wonders of life and the questions of a toddler. He most certainly stretches my mind and heart daily! It is also a wonderful life to live, knowing I already have 2 saints in Heaven, praising our Father face to face. Grief comes in waves for everyone, including us who have lost two of our babies early on. Sometimes, I see their certificates of life hanging on the wall and it doesn’t hurt quite so much. Other times, little things remind me of the short time we had with them in my womb. Each time, I am reminded of God’s faithfulness. I am reminded of His goodness and mercy. I am reminded that He used their short, little lives to preach a mustard seed faith. When Martin Luther

2 months with my sweet Hannah Joy. Never could I have imagined how special and precious these moments with my family of four are. I never truly understood how families could be best friends with one another, but now I get it. My best friends are my babies and my husband. How blessed am I! Thus far, this has been a much easier postpartum period than with Samuel. I’m sure part of it is that I was just so sick in the final weeks of my pregnancy that anything after that was a piece of cake. My support system is amazing, including my rockstar of a husband who understands the rigor of being “Mommy” and supports me as best he can. He truly is the best. God has blessed me immensely. One amazing thing He has pointed me to through the people in my life is a noninvasive medical device. It is called the BEMER, and it has helped me heal and find a new normal during this postpartum period. It helps increase blood flow and encourages the body to better perform its natural functions. All I have to do

I am blessed beyond measure. Tears come to my eyes when I think of the dark times, and how many times I thought it would always be dark. There have been many glimpses of God’s love, God’s joy, and the light that He gives us in this sinful world. I have seen a share of darkness thus far, and I am aware that more will come as long as we live on this side of Heaven. I often pray the prayer, “Come, Lord Jesus, come quickly. Come, Lord Jesus, come.” I pray it with fervor. I pray it with a desperate tone in my voice. But I also pray it with hope and joy. This hope and joy comes when you understand what you have been given by Christ and understanding that only comes through hardship and the growth that results. I remember in middle school and high school I felt so broken, desperate, afraid, dark, hopeless, helpless. I clung to the hope that is only in Christ. I clung to the words that were given to me through God’s word. I was blessed beyond measure to be allowed to hear those words in Church

  It began with a prayer. A prayer for a baby that we could love, snuggle, see grow, and raise alongside our baby boy Samuel. It began with a loss; a loss of that sweet baby boy or girl. It began with severe discomfort. Not just a deep indescribable heartache, but also a discomfort in my back, triggered by the hormones and whatever else my body decided to do in response to that second loss. It began with a connection. A connection to a mentor, an elder, a friend. It started with a connection to a device I didn’t think could be real. There was a connection to the heart for hope that I needed more than anything at the time. It began by coming in, feeling like a ghost; like a hollow being with nothing left to give. It began with a desperate need for something, ANYTHING, that would bring comfort. Not only in my mind and soul but also in my body. The discomfort that felt like an electric current going from my back, down my leg, to my foot. The discomfort that kept me from functioning for my

Like most Mommas, I have been feeling negative about my outer appearance. Sometimes, I’ll feel reasonably confident about how I look in the mirror, but then I’ll see a picture and feel amazed at how different I look…. how terribly, negatively different. Then the thoughts begin: Is this how other people see me? Do I look this bad? Am I that dorky looking? Should I not have cut my hair? Etc., etc.  I know I am not the only one who thinks these things or has these feelings, but it can feel very isolating at times, especially when I am in a time where I am supposed to be “glowing” and “proud” of my body. I honestly don’t think I’m glowing—I think the difficulties of this pregnancy are shown in new lines on my face. And I am not proud of my body—I am thankful, yes, but there will always be a glint of fear and guilt lying underneath the surface, placing blame on myself for our previous losses. I am not looking for anyone to tell me anything different; I am simply stating that those thoughts