I seriously couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that God let this horrible event happen. That was the question that I kept asking Mr. He didn’t know what to say to me. Not very many people did. I can tell you a lot of people said things that I look back on now, and think no one should ever say that to someone who miscarried. (That will be addressed in a later post).

So, here I am sitting in the sanctuary. Not signing any songs. Not participating in communion. I simply was a warm body sitting in a seat, waiting for this entire thing to be over with. I had wanted nothing to do with church this morning. I certainly wanted nothing to do with God. (Remember, I’m only here because my husband MADE me come with him.)

As communion is being passed around, I make a point to thumb through the bulletin to see what’s going to be going on within the next few weeks at church. (Habit) I look at the spot that gives a short summary of what the message is going to be about, “MUTE: Silence is when faith is the loudest”. I sat in the pew and thought, “Yea, you’ve been giving me the silent treatment. Are you finally going to talk to me? I’ve been begging you for answers, and you haven’t even attempted to respond to one.”

Just some background:

As a church, we had been studying The Bible in chronologic order. Our teaching pastor was going to be talking about the ‘silent years’. There was nearly 400 years that went by between Malachi (last book of the Old Testament) and Matthew (first book of the New Testament). Many people thought God was silent- on mute- to the people living during those years.

As our pastor starts speaking, I feel the room go empty. I feel like he is speaking directly to me. He opened his sermon with, “What to do when you think God is giving you the silent treatment?”

For the next half hour I sat, and listened. God was finally answering my questions. First, I learned that I was demanding God to answer me. I didn’t have my heart in the right place to even consider asking God why He called my baby home before I got to meet them.

I learned that God is still at work, while there is silence.

I learned that God still keeps His promises, while there is silence.

Isaiah 49:10 The Message

When the time is ripe, I answer you. When victory’s due, I help you.

Jeremiah 29:11 New International Version

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.

Revelation 21:4-5 New International Reader’s Version (NIRV)

“He will wipe away every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or sadness. There will be no more crying or pain. Things are no longer the way they used to be.” He who was sitting on the throne said, “I am making everything new!” Then he said, “Write this down. You can trust these words. They are true.”

Romans 8:28 New Kings James Version

And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.

Philippians 1:6 New International Reader’s Version (NIRV)

I am sure that the One who began a good work in you will carry it on until it is completed. That will be on the day Christ Jesus returns.

I learned that God is still watching, while there is silence.

Job 23:8-12 New International Reader’s Version (NIRV)

“But if I go to the east, God isn’t there. If I go to the west, I don’t find him.When he’s working in the north, I don’t see him there. When he turns to the south, I don’t see him there either.  10 But he knows every step I take. When he has put me to the test, I’ll come out as pure as gold. 11 My feet have closely followed his steps. I’ve stayed on his path without turning away. 12 I haven’t disobeyed his commands. I’ve treasured his words more than my daily bread.

This is how our pastor summed everything up, and I knew that God had 100% meant for me to hear this sermon. My pastor said, “Think about this. When you were in school, your teachers would do everything they could to prepare you for a test. They made up fun lessons. They let you work in groups. They had you complete individual work. They were always there; ready to help whenever you needed it.

Now, when test day camethey were silent. They never left the room. They were there watching you, and not saying a thing.

God does the same thing. He is always there. He’s always watching you- and sometimes He doesn’t say a thing.” Ok, God, you have my attention.


As I left the hospital, I drove home in a daze. I didn’t listen to any music, or roll the windows down to enjoy a beautiful September afternoon. I just wanted to be home. I didn’t care that I would be alone; I just wanted to be as far away as possible from the hospital. Once I got home, I crawled into bed and stayed. What else could I do? The ultrasound tech had said everything. I was empty.

If you’re not familiar with the effects of miscarrying, the aftermath on your body is agonizing. For me, it felt like my stomach had been ripped out and put back in the wrong way. There is also the added element that your mind goes through. I think the mind games I played with myself were more excruciating than the actual physical pain my body was undergoing.

In a matter of 48 hours I had gone from the highest high to the lowest of lows. I was pregnant on Saturday, and without child on Monday. In this time frame I had become someone I didn’t know. Someone I didn’t like. I remember vividly coming home from running errands with Mr. in town on Thursday evening and talking about having to work with ladies who were expecting. How was I going to be able to face them? How was I supposed to be excited for them? I was JEALOUS of them.

Mr. tried his best to support me, but I would say things and he wouldn’t know what to say back. On this specific ride home, he was being as supportive as he could be and said, “I love you.” My response was, “How can you love me when my body destroyed our baby?”

Oh, he got so mad at me for saying that! But, that’s where my mind was…not in a good place. Mr. did his best to try and be normal. Normal was gone; we would never be the same again.

As the weekend approached, Mr. asked if I was planning on going to church. My reply, “Um, no!” He didn’t push the issue until Saturday evening. He told me we were going to church. I’m thinking, ‘no way.’ He said I needed to be up and ready to go Sunday morning. He wasn’t going to leave without me.

I woke up that Sunday morning and reluctantly threw my hair up in a ponytail and put on some black sweat pants. I didn’t want to be at church, and I certainly didn’t care what I looked like. I had no one to impress. I wasn’t going there to worship. I wasn’t going there because God wants His people to hear His word. I was going because Mr. made me.

All week I had been questioning God. I was as mad at Him as I had ever been in my life. What would God have to say to me when I got to church? Nothing! We weren’t speaking. He had failed me, after I had done everything right for Him my entire life. I was ready to walk away. God, He had other plans…


I had miscarried over the weekend, and we were out of school on Monday. I went into work on Tuesday and told my team and principal that I wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week. Each person had a different reaction. They all stick with me, some were nicer than others- and I’ll just leave it at that.

Following the ER doctor’s order of resting for the next few days, I had a lot of alone time. Mr. wasn’t able to take time off work and my sisters, and sister in law were all busy with work and school as well. My ‘inner circle’ was still going on with life, while I stayed at home and thought mine was over.

I know that while I was off, God was trying to speak to me, but I didn’t want to hear anything He had to say. I didn’t open my Bible or read my devotional. (Honestly, I feel like I had just run up the stairs and slammed my bedroom door because I didn’t want anything to do with God. Can you relate to that? I know I can’t be the only person who had been so mad at their mom or dad they ran away and slammed a door at them while they were growing up.)

But, that’s what I did. I ran away. I was so angry I pretty much was ready to punch anything or anyone in the face who came in contact with me and said I needed to pray. I didn’t do a lot while I was home. I just kept replaying the events over and over in my head. Which wasn’t healthy. When you are alone, after a tragedy happens, your mind (or the devil) plays a lot of tricks on you.

Wednesday after Labor Day, I had to meet with my OBGYN for an exam and have some more blood work done. This was the worst day of my life. I think it was worse than actually going to the ER. Don’t get me wrong, my doctor is amazing; she has wonderful bedside manor, and was very compassionate.

I went to the doctor by myself, and sat in the waiting room surrounded by swollen bellies. I sat in this room, thinking I was going to be OK, thinking I was tough enough to face reality. I couldn’t handle it. I couldn’t look at any woman who had a beautiful baby bump. A mother’s glow, a smile on their face. In a room surrounded by people, I felt utterly alone.

(To put a little more salt in the wound, Savage Garden’s ‘I knew I Love You Before I Met You’ was playing overhead. Are you freaking kidding me? I came to the conclusion that there needs to be separate waiting rooms for women who are expecting and women who are not.)

After meeting with my doctor, she sent me to have some labs run. These labs included blood work, to check my hormone levels, and an ultrasound. I could handle the blood work. I was able to hold myself together while a lady who did not have nice bedside manor would conduct my ultrasound.

She walked me into a room and gave me directions; I obliged, and waited for her to come back. She moved the wand and said, “Yup you’re empty.” I lay there motionless. I was furious and heartbroken. How can you be so callus? She left the room with my frozen ultrasound images left up. All I saw was emptiness. She was right.  I was empty.  As I looked at that frozen ultrasound, all I saw was a void that was once filled with a life.  The tiny life had been ripped away. I didn’t need an ultrasound to prove that. I didn’t need anything but my baby.

Becoming Me

April 27th is a day that is just a normal day for many people.  For me, it is a day where for the past four years, I tend to get a bit weepy and emotional.  April 27th should have been our little girl’s birthday.  Today- she would have been four!  Many people, who are close to me, know that I suffered a miscarriage in September 2012. This experience is apart of me now, and I feel that the more I share it, the more I am able to honor my sweet little girl, Kimble, that I lost.  If you would like, come along with me over the next few days, as I feel it is the appropriate time to share my experience through this devastating loss.

This event has changed me forever, and for the better I think.

Here is Part 1:

Mr. and I decided in May 2012 that it would be a great time to expand our family of two (and our two kitties) to three. We never imagined how easy it would be to get pregnant. It took only two months for it to happen. I took a pregnancy test in August, and the results proved to be what we wanted…we were on our way to becoming parents.

I had already planned everything out in my head. I knew what I was going to do to tell our folks that they were being promoted to grandparents. I knew how I was going to publicize it on Facebook. I even knew how I was going to announce my pregnancy to my coworkers. Every detail was planned. I was elated!

August tuned into September, and I was looking forward to Labor Day weekend. (When you’re a teacher, you look forward to your weekends; they are valuable.) I was ready to say goodbye to summer “officially”, eat some of my in-laws famous turkey burgers, and my Dad’s amazing hamburgers. Nothing was going to ruin this weekend, nothing.

Mr. and I celebrated with our families and headed back home. I was feeling great, but was ready to get in bed. As I was getting ready, I noticed that I had some spotting. Which, I dismissed after I read on the Internet that was normal in the first few weeks of pregnancy. I went to bed, woke up the next morning and knew something wasn’t right. I told Mr. he needed to take me to the emergency room.

I silently prayed on the way to the hospital that God would save my baby. That He would spare me, and give me what I wanted. I walked into the ER and said, “I’m 6 weeks pregnant, and I’m bleeding.”

About half an hour later, after some blood work and a couple of other tests, the doctor confirmed my worst fear. I had lost the baby. I sobbed. I have no other way of describing what I did. I was livid. I was absolutely devastated.

I took the rest of the week off from work, and followed the doctor’s order of resting. I was pretty much in a fog. I mean- who miscarries? Am I the only person who has experienced this? I didn’t know of anyone else who had lost a baby.

Certainly this was a nightmare and I would wake up at some point. I mean, I had done everything right my entire life and was shocked and OUTRAGED that God allowed this to happen. I mean- after all- I am His child.

Why would He let this transpire? I have gone to church my entire life, read my Bible and done devotionals, I even waited until marriage. This was how God was going to repay me for being so faithful to Him?   I didn’t know what to do. All I knew was I didn’t want anything to do with God.

Hippity Hoppin’

Spring is finally here! I am so glad to see the calendar flip over to April. April is one of the busiest months for my little family. It holds several birthdays (Mr.’s) and this year April holds Easter. I love when Easter falls in the month of April. I feel like every piece of creation is screaming, “Thank you, Lord! It is spring.” I, myself, am screaming, “Thank you, Lord for Jesus!”

I wanted to share with you a new tradition I will be starting with the boys. I love all of the activities that come with Easter. Egg Hunts were always one of my most favorite things to do when spring rolled around. Growing up, my mom knew how much my sisters and I enjoyed egg hunts, and ended up finding these very special eggs she shared with us many years ago.

Resurrection Eggs.

I know some of you have heard of them…or maybe you haven’t. To sum them up, they basically are a dozen eggs where each egg contains an object that is significant in being apart of the Easter story. You can open all 12 eggs at once and read about the objects they contain, or you can take my approach.

Here’s what I will be doing with these eggs over the next 12 days leading up to Easter. I found this little wooden bunny at Target ($3) and the Resurrection Eggs at a Christian bookstore that was having a store-closing sale ($8). This little rabbit will be bringing one egg a day with a book (the one pictured, it comes with the eggs) that has a story that corresponds with the egg. The story will explain why the specific object that is in the egg, is special to Easter.


This little bunny will hide an egg somewhere in the house over the next 12 days and the boys will look for an egg everyday. We will read the story and hopefully have conversations about Easter and the hope we have because of it. Now, of course you could make this more elaborate…but I want to have my boys focus on the meaning of Easter.

To introduce this idea, I’ve come up with a letter that this bunny (Peter Cottontail) has written and brought to the boys. It is very simple (and similar to what I did when I introduced our Elf, Simon, at Christmas.) If you’re interested in a copy of the letter, just let me know! You can write to me through my CONTACT page, and I will be more than happy to edit the letter for you. After all, our main goal as Christ-followers is to get our children to Heaven. I just think this fun approach is a great way to introduce Jesus and have a little Easter fun while doing it.

Peter Cottontail Letter 2