loss

last week we lost another baby.
9 weeks into the pregnancy.
our third baby we will never know.

I tried not to think about being pregnant, even when the urge to puke would greet me first thing in the morning. I tried not to make plans, or to dream of what the future would look like. I tried not to dream about Larkin being a big sister. I tried not to bond with this baby; not yet.

but at some point or another those things all happened anyway.

I walked into the hospital to have an ultrasound, but I already knew what I was about to see. I felt like the air was being sucked out of my lungs, as she tried over and over to pick up the sound of a heartbeat on the monitor, and watched as the flat line scrolled across the screen. No heartbeat.

I despise that ultrasound room... that table. that flat screen TV on the wall. all those stupid pictures plastered on the walls of the perfect 3D images of healthy, growing babies. the smell.  I know this routine too well now, and to be honest, I'm struggling to keep any hope that I would ever walk out of that room with good news.

This time around I feel sick at the thought of sharing more disappointing news.
This time I'm more angry than I am sad.
I didn't realize I was this jaded. this callused.
Compounded grief is ugly, and the repeated losses at this point are numbing. I feel so emotionless and hardened to the whole situation, and I hate it. That’s not the kind of person I am. or at least the kind of person I used to be.

No unbelief made him waver concerning the promise of God, but he grew strong in his faith as he gave glory to God, fully convinced that God was able to do what he had promised.  Romans 4:20-21

There are calluses, and there are scars. Some of them are ugly, and mangled, and will never go away. I doubt I will ever be as vulnerable, naive, or optimistic as I once was. But there are also lessons I have learned that have changed me into a person who trusts God’s plan, and has a new perspective of life and how fragile it is.
I now know with out a shadow of a doubt that I do not need my children to have my DNA. I could not possibly love my sweet girl more than I do; and that certainly would not change if she had hair like mine, or eyes like her daddy.  Adoption is not a “plan B”, or a “second option” because a healthy pregnancy hasn’t been in the cards.  Larkin was meant to be ours, and because of God’s grace and protection over her, she is in our family today. God knows what our family will look like.
He will plan how, when, and if children come into our lives and more than ever,
we believe in that plan.


Before I made you in your mother’s womb, I chose you.
Jeremiah 1:5