This Is Just the Beginning

I bet you’re thinking that since God ever so clearly showed me Grace, I repented and everything went back to normal for me, right? Heck no. Friends, I come to you with this testament that I am a sinner. I raged a war between my Heavenly Father and myself. I let the devil get the best of me and turn me into a hateful, jealous, and spiteful woman.

I lost something that was so precious Labor Day weekend. Something that I thought I deserved because I had been a ‘good girl’ all of my life. From that loss, I turned into someone I didn’t even know. I become a gossip. I became envious of every pregnant lady I knew. I was very bitter.

I formed friendships and lost friendships with the way I behaved. I was mean, nasty, and ugly. If someone complained about being pregnant, you best believe I talked about her behind her back. I couldn’t understand why you would complain about being pregnant. You still had a baby growing inside you.

I declined baby shower invites because I didn’t want to see someone who was pregnant. My heart was black. So black that even my Mr. didn’t recognize me, and did not like the person I was turning into. I didn’t care. I didn’t care about anything but my lost baby.

I was in such a dark place. This place I was in, I hope I never visit it again. I felt empty. I felt alone. I felt lost. No one could say anything to me to make me feel better. I felt like Dr. Jeckle and Mr. Hide. I would go to work, teach to my best ability and come home and hate myself. It was tough. It was hard keeping up a front for my third graders. I did though. I was not going to let them suffer because of something that happened in my personal life. My co-workers saw through it though. Some cared and some didn’t- and I’ll just leave it at that.

At the end of 2012, Christmas was approaching and I was looking forward to time off. I wasn’t looking forward to spending two weeks alone though. I needed a break. I needed to try and get myself together.

I remember a conversation I had with my Dad over the holidays about how I wanted to find the old me again. I was fed up with the negativity. I was fed up with the bitterness. I was ready to give it all up. He said to me, “Ok- go find her.”

Boy was I ready to go and find K. But, as I embarked on this journey- I found a more interesting Kimberly along the way.

ah-MAY-zing Grace

“It’s OK.”

These are two very simple words with one powerful meaning for someone who is struggling with some deep-rooted issues. Ladies and gentlemen, I was struggling with some deep-rooted issues. I had run away from God, was filled with resentment towards Him, and demanded He answer my questions about why I miscarried.

When you read that, doesn’t it come across as a spoiled little girl who didn’t get her way? Does it come across as someone who looks at herself and thinks she is entitled to something? Does it look like someone who loves The Lord and is thankful for what He has done?

But, let me tell you about how He showed me Grace, even with the behavior I had showed Him. I headed back into work one full week after losing my baby. I had not told my third graders why I would be absent before I had left. When I walked into Room 109 on Monday morning, I had several “I miss you notes” on my desk. We hadn’t even been in school for a month- and these children had missed me?

A former student, who was in 5th grade at the time, came up to me and said, “Where have you been? I missed you.” This particular student and I have a very special bond.   I couldn’t lie to her, and she was one of the very first people I told that day about my absences. I looked at her and said, “I had a baby in my belly and they died.” Do you know what this 5th grader did? She hugged me. She hugged me and didn’t say a word. She didn’t have to. In that moment, I knew things were going to be OK. It wasn’t going to be an easy road- but I knew I was going to be OK.

God had used a 5th grade girl to let me know that things were going to be all right. I was able to face my class as they all raced into the room, the exact same thing when they asked why I had not been at school. Do you know what these sweet third graders did? They hugged me. They said they were sad for me. They said, “You would be such a great mom.” I will never forget that Monday morning. I was surrounded by love- in the form of 8 year olds.

If God using children in my life to show me love, isn’t a form of showing me His Grace. I don’t know what is. In the moment, I was so thankful for those third graders. They were with me, and cared for me, and didn’t judge me. Of course they went home and told their parents what had happened…

Can I tell you, those parents were just as supportive as my students had been. I received emails, notes, and cards. I even had a few parents stop in after school to check on me. Grace.

Simply put, I had lost my baby. I had been a terrible child to my Heavenly Father, and He showed me Amazing Grace.









I walked out of the sanctuary and knew I had heard God. I knew that He had worked on Mr.’s heart and made him “make” me go to church. God intended for me to be at church, that particular Sunday, to get my questions answered.

I couldn’t get what our teaching pastor said, out of my head.

“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.”

Did he really use an analogy of a teacher and God? (I get goose bumps as I sit here and recall the events of that day!)

So Mr. and I did our regular Sunday routine of getting some lunch together, running a few errands and heading back home. As we were driving- my Dad called. He needed Mr.’s assistance on fixing a lawnmower, and wanted to know if he could come down and get some help. Of course I say it’s OK.

A little later that afternoon, Dad comes over. (Now, during this whole ordeal- I have only talked to my family and Mr.’s family. No one else knew of my situation and how bad I was. How mad I was at God). He and Mr. work on the lawnmower, and somehow my Dad finds a way to have some alone time with me.

All he says is, “How are you doing?” I was able to look him in the eyes and say, “A little bit better than yesterday.” Dad was an incredible listener, and let me share my story of the sermon I heard at church that morning. I shared with him how I felt utter rage at God. Dad didn’t say a word. He let me pour my heart out. He didn’t say, “Oh, K, you are not supposed to get angry with God.” Or, “You really are having some heart issues, you need to pray for forgiveness.” Or, “I raised you better- I can’t believe my daughter would act like this.”

My Dad (a former Marine and retired Sargent from the Army) sat without judgment in our driveway and only said a few, but powerful, words to me. Words that I will remember until the day I return home and meet Jesus (and my baby) face to face.

After all of my ranting, my Dad said, “K, how many times did you get mad at me as your Earthly father? Do you really think you’re not ever going to get mad at your Heavenly Father?”

Wow! Basically my Dad was telling me it was OK to be mad. It was OK for me to be feeling the way I was feeling. It was OK that I ran away from God, ‘slammed my bedroom door in His face’, and wanted nothing to do with Him.

No one had said those simple words to me…it’s OK.


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.

One Less “Like”

So February 2017 was a pretty difficult month for your ‘ol pal here.  I didn’t get around to making you guys a ‘favorite’s list’ for the month because my mind has been so preoccupied.  February was just really hard for me.

 To sum it up for you, I lost a very dear friend last month.  I mean this was a person who feels like my brother.  I am still grieving like I lost my brother.  I am hoping with writing this, I can in some way share his sweet spirit with you- but also heal a little bit.

 Now before I write anything else, let me tell you abut my friend.  He and I met in preschool.  We were three years old when we met!  He had big brown eyes and was the funniest person I can remember from those days.  After we graduated preschool we ended up going to the same elementary school where we were in each other’s class every year but for third grade.

 We got split in middle school, but we reconnected because we were both in band…and played clarinet.  (Until our teacher moved him to play oboe.)  We then went on to be in the same classes all throughout high school.  Now, granted, we didn’t run around with the same crowd- neither one of us really fit into one group, we both were friends with everyone.  BUT we always had each other’s back.  We could let our guard down with each other.  We could speak openly and honestly with each other.  We loved each other like we were siblings.

After graduation, we kept in touch through MySpace and then moved onto bigger and better things once everyone was allowed the use of Facebook.  We had the kind of relationship that it didn’t matter how long we hadn’t seen each other, we picked up right were we last left off.  We had the kind of friendship that only comes around once in a lifetime.  I could always count on him- he knew he could always count on me.

 That being said, fast-forward to February 2017 and my world was rocked.  I found out that I had lost my longest and dearest friendship.  This was a friendship that I had invested a lot of time and love into; and I found out about his loss on social media.  When I read someone’s status about his passing, I literally had to fight to breath.  I was shocked.  I’m still shocked.

Granted, it’s still very real, it’s very raw…yesterday was a day that I cried again for my friend.  I thought I had cried all of my tears.  I cried because I posted my son’s monthly picture to social media, and my friend was always one to “like” my picture.  I cried because he wasn’t going to like any more of my pictures.  I cried because I wasn’t going to receive any more messages telling me how cute my little guy is.  I cried because I am sad; I’m sad that my friend is no longer with me.

It’s crazy the way grief works.  It’s crazy how realizing that one less “like” can make you cry all over again.  It’s crazy how it can take a seeming less picture post, and make you feel all of the emotions you felt when you got the shocking news of losing your friend.

I am here to tell you though, I do have hope; I have hope in Jesus.  One of the last conversations I had with my friend, I shared Jesus with him.  I am happy to share Jesus with you, too.  I feel like it is a way that I can honor my friend.

 Jesus.  Jesus loves you and all of your baggage.  He loves you when you are mean.  He loves you when you are sad.  He loves your good, your bad, and your very ugly.  Jesus loves you so much that he left a perfect paradise to walk among us- so he can sympathize with us.  He loves you so much that he left his home, and made one among us, so he could feel what you feel.  Jesus loves you so much that he died for you.  He died so you can live!

 All you have to do is whisper His name.  He’s willing and ready to listen.  He wants you to talk to him.  He wants to bring you comfort, love, joy, and hope.  Jesus loves.  Jesus saves.  Let me tell you, I am so thankful for that.

 With the loss of my friend, I do feel like I need to take the time to tell his family how much I love them, and that I am still praying for them.  You guys…you all are in so many good memories I have with Drew.  I can’t thank you enough for encouraging and nurturing our friendship.   I am so thankful that you’ve been able to share in so many incredible memories over the years.  Thank you so much for letting Drew and me be friends.  Thank you for teaching him how to love others, respect others, and invest in others.  I am forever grateful for the memories I have with you guys, and our Drew-boy.   I love you all, just as much as I love Drew.

Love, Laughter, Happily Ever-after

I honestly could not wait to become Mrs. My husband and I have known each other since I was in second grade, and he in third.  He moved here from Indiana in 1993.  I remember the day he got on my bus, I just watched him.  This new boy with dark hair and blue eyes; he looked like no other boy I had ever seen.  Granted, I was only 7, I knew there was something special about him.

Slowly but surly, we started to talk and forge a friendship.  He lived in the neighborhood next to mine.  Had a sister who was the same age as my sister, and played baseball.  He would sit next to me on the bus and we would just talk.  This was the extent of our elementary school relationship, talking, getting to know one another, and listening to what we had to say.

As we grew into middle schoolers, our talks got a little more serious.  We would talk on the bus…and we would even call each other on our house phones!  (Yes, we had to endure our parents answering the phone, and asking permission to speak to our friend.)  As serious as a child in middle school can talk and hold onto a conversation, our talks would include what teachers were hard, how I should do this or that to be cool…and we talked about whom we liked!  Of course, neither of us knew that under all of our immaturity, we liked each other.

He started high school a year before me…I had moved and no longer lived a few streets away from him…we lost touch.  We would see each other around town, say a quick hello, and go on with our lives.  It wasn’t until I started high school did he realize that we needed to be together.  I didn’t realize we needed to be together until I was a junior.  I made him wait two years before I finally realized that he should be mine!

This is just the start of our story.  I tell people all the time that we go back to second and third grade- because we do.  We started to build a relationship as children.  We built it on interests, communication, and trust.  Now, please don’t think that growing into Mr. and Mrs. was a walk in the park.  It wasn’t, but I’ve come to realize how truly special your relationship with your spouse is.  How truly special my relationship is with my Mr.

I wanted to write to you, during the month of February, (where we celebrate “love”) about how special marriage is.  Marriage is not a contract you can break when something “breaks” and you want something else.  Marriage is not trial and error.  Marriage is a covenant, which means you are in for the long hall.  You are in for the good.  You are in for the bad.  And you stay when it gets ugly, really, really ugly.

Marriage is a vow spoken between three: you, your husband, and God.  God owns the copyright of marriage.  He as already written your story…he has written some really good and fun times for you to experience.  He has also written times where you will need to lean on each other to grow closer together.  God has also written times where you will want to run away, forget all of the bad, and give up.  God has written those for you to become closer to your spouse, and ultimately Him.

Marriage is one of the best things that I have ever decided to enter into.  My Mr. and I have had a wonderful seven and half years of marriage.  We have had made some incredible memories.  We have accomplished so much in our 15 official years together. My Mr. is more of a man than I could ever dream of having in my life. We’ve had the good, the bad, and the very ugly- and I can say with my whole heart he has been there for me. God knew that my Mr. was what I needed for my love, my laughter, and my happily ever after.