If I was being Honest, You Would Know...

I apologize for my silence.  As time has progressed since our losses, weeks between posts have turned into months.  Sometimes, it's for a good reason - the fact that my heart doesn't hurt as much as it did in the beginning, and other times, it's because I am scared of being honest with all of you.  Recently, the latter has been true.  There have been things I wanted to say, but have been too afraid to speak.

I wrote a post a couple months ago, but never published it because I was afraid it was "too honest".  The post was inspired by Francesca Battistelli's live performance of her song, If We're Honest.  During her performance, I was challenged to be honest about our story and recent journey, but when it came to it, I lacked the courage to share.

But I don't want to be afraid anymore.

I know I am not the only one in this world who hurts.
I know I am not the only one who struggles with doubts.
I know I am not the only one who wrestles with unanswered questions.
I know I am not the only one who feels paralyzed by fear.
I know I am not the only one who knows the heartache of loss.
I know I am not the only one who doesn't understand why things happen the way they do.
I know I am not the only one who doesn't have it all figured out.

So let's be honest.

If I was being honest, you would know that our journey of trying to start a family of our own has been extremely difficult and painful.

If I was being honest, you would know that sometimes I have endurance during this time of waiting and sometimes I am incredibly weary.

If I was being honest, you would know that sometimes I take God at His Word and sometimes I doubt His simplest promises.

If I was being honest, you would know that sometimes I feel God's healing and sometimes I feel brokenness.

If I was being honest, you would know that sometimes I feel full of hope and sometimes I have none.

If I was being honest, you would know that sometimes I feel peace and sometimes I feel chaos.

If I was being honest, you would know that sometimes I feel strong and sometimes I am just pretending.

When we are honest, we know we are not alone.

When we are honest, we know true community.

When we are honest, we know God's unconditional love.

When we are honest, we know freedom.

When we are honest, we know healing.

What would you say "if you were being honest"?

[Please join the discussion in the comments section below.]

Still Standing

We welcomed this year with arms wide-open.  It was easy to welcome 2013 since 2012 was one of the most difficult years of our lives.  Two miscarriages.  Hopes and dreams shattered.  Two children whose lives existed, yet we were unable to meet.  It was a rough year.  We looked forward to a new beginning, and longed for the fresh start a new year would bring.

This year has brought many blessings, one of which was an unexpected new adventure in my husband's career.  It has truly been an adventure, not without sacrifice, but one full of unique experiences, beautiful community, and richness, and we are thankful.

This year has also brought two anniversaries of our losses, one anticipated due date, and an anniversary of another.  YET...

WE SURVIVED.  

We are STILL STANDING.

It feels so good to write that.  We survived.  We are still standing.  We made it through - alive.  And we did more than just make it through, we lived.  We lived our lives - the good, the bad, and the ugly.  We felt deep hurt, pain, loss, and emptiness, yet we felt joy, peace, love, comfort, gratitude, and contentment.  Only God can do that, and we are thankful.

In the midst of our gratitude, however, there is one hope, one longing, and one desire that still lingers...Our hearts still long to hold a child of our own on this side of Heaven.  

This year has been one of waiting.  Sometimes I completely suck at it and others times, by God's grace, I have peace and contentment in the midst of it all.  Honestly, I would say the first part is true the majority of the time, but lately I have felt such peace and contentment, and I am thankful.

My prayers have changed these days.  Yes, we still ask that God would give us the desires of our heart, and sometimes if I am feeling really brave, I ask for His will and His timing.  But more than anything else, I find myself asking for peace and joy and contentment in the midst of it all.   And these are such sweet and beautiful gifts, and I am thankful.

Because of God's grace and generosity, we survived.  We are still standing.  We are still hoping, longing, and praying, and at times, still grieving and healing.  We are living - the good, the bad, and the ugly.  We still feel hurt, pain, loss, and emptiness, yet we feel joy, peace, love, comfort, gratitude, and, contentment in the midst of it all.  Only God can do that, and we are thankful.

Walk to Remember

There is this amazing event in our hometown every year called Walk to Remember that gives families who have experienced pregnancy and infant loss the opportunity to remember and honor their babies.  The event is hosted by a local organization called Tiny Purpose.  Tiny Purpose offers year-round support to families who have experienced pregnancy and infant losses through a monthly support group, card ministry, hospital visits, encouraging events, and memory boxes and bracelets to remember those we miss and love.  I feel so blessed to have this type of ministry right here in my own community.  Their love and support have had a significant impact on my grief journey and healing process.  As a side note, if you have anything like this in your own community, I would strongly encourage you to participate (when you feel ready) because simply knowing you are not alone can bring much healing as we walk this grief journey together.

This year’s annual Walk to Remember was the second walk I have had the opportunity to be a part of.  However, my role this year was different.  This year, I had the opportunity to speak at the event.  It was a difficult, humbling, and beautiful experience simultaneously.  Something can be both difficult and beautiful when God is a part of it and He was.  I trusted that He would provide the words He wanted to share and allowed Him to speak His truth and life to those listening.  However, I just love what He said so much that I wanted to share it with you too.  I encourage you to open your heart to whatever He desires to speak to your heart as your read this.

"I would like to begin by thanking Tiny Purpose for the honor and privilege of sharing with each of you today.  Thank you for entrusting me with this opportunity.  As Alaina said, my name is Lynsey Rye.  Although I do not know many of you, I hope today can feel like we’re just sitting in our favorite place together sharing our stories and journeys over a cup of coffee or tea – depending on your preference. 

Take a brief second to look at those around you.  Each one of us has our own unique story, yet all of us have been touched by the life or lives of those we honor and remember today.  I do not know the details of your story and I won’t pretend to understand everything you have felt or experienced, but I do want to say “thank you for reminding me that I am not alone”.  I am saddened by the amount of people here who have been affected by pregnancy and infant loss and stillbirths, but I am blessed by the opportunity to unite with others to honor and remember the precious lives that have deeply and significantly impacted each of ours. 

Just as our stories differ, I realize that today each of us may be in a different place on our grief journey.  For some of you, it has been five, ten, fifteen, twenty, or more years since your loss.  For others, it has been just a year.  For others still, your loss is fresh - it has been only days, weeks, or months since you were forced to say “goodbye”.  Just six days prior to last year’s Walk to Remember, my husband and I were informed that we had had our second miscarriage.  Needless to say, our wounds were fresh. 

Tuesday of this week marked one year since our second miscarriage.  During the weeks leading up to this anniversary, memories from the events of last year have flooded my mind.  I have thought of our second pregnancy and the life it represented…our sweet 'Baby J'.  I have cried myself to sleep.  I have felt the vast longing in my heart to hold our babies.  I have felt the emptiness that exists in their absence.  I have felt the deep grief that comes from knowing things are not what they were “supposed to be”.  I have felt the terrifying fear of losing of another child.  I have felt the uncertainty and fear of whether or not we will ever be able to hold a child of our own on this earth.  I have felt the profound sadness and heartache and pain of losing a child.

On some days, I want to hide these feelings or run away from them because they hurt.  But today I am choosing to be authentic.  Because I know I am in the company of those who have felt this pain and cried these tears.  Although the details of our stories vary, I know we have all felt the heartache of losing a child. 

So I would like to ask you a question…Will you join me in authenticity today?  Don’t worry…I am not going to ask you to come up to this microphone and share your feelings with everyone, but I do want to invite you to tune into what your heart is feeling.

It takes courage and bravery to attend an event like today.  We all made a choice to honor and remember our babies today even if it hurts.  This is courage.  This is strength.  This is love. 

A day like today can bring a variety of emotions.  Today, I feel vulnerable as I share my heart with each of you.  I feel sadness as my heart aches for our babies.  I feel emptiness as my arms long to hold them.  I feel lots and lots of love for our babies.  And I feel proud to their mother. 

So again, I want to invite you to tune into what your heart is feeling today.  Do you feel…

Hurt?  Pain?  Emptiness?  Longing?  Heartache? Numbness?  Grief?  Fear?  Sadness?  Brokenness?  Vulnerability?  Joy?  Hope?  Peace?  Celebration?  Remembrance? 

We have all experienced an array of thoughts and feelings as we have lived our stories and walked these journeys that unite us today.  Yet, wherever you are on your journey, no matter what your story is, Jesus has the desire and ability to meet you right where you are today [Even as you read this right now] and I have been praying that He will.

So before we go any further, let me take just a moment to pray for each of you.

Now let’s get back to those cups of coffee or tea as we sit across the table from each other and share our stories.  Please allow me to begin by sharing our story with you. 

About a month after our first loss, I started a blog called Missed Miscarriages and Mourning Mommies.  This blog became a significant part of my journey towards healing.  Writing helps me process my thoughts and feelings and find healing in the midst of hurt.  My hope for the blog was that it would not only be an outlet to help me cope, but would also be a support and encouragement to others who have experienced loss as well.  I would like to share excerpts from my very first blog entry with you as it embodies where this chapter of our story – the chapter of our grief and loss – begins.   

'I remember that day clearly, which is ironic since the entire day simultaneous feels very foggy.  May 10, 2012, the day that was supposed to be one of the most exciting things my husband and I have ever experienced.  That day, we woke up a little earlier than normal to attend our first ultrasound appointment together.  We were the doctor's first appointment of the day.  I had been dreaming of this day since we took our first pregnancy test on Easter weekend.  Dreaming of the first time we would be able to see our baby and longing for the peace I hoped it would bring in knowing our baby was okay.  I had been counting down the days until our first ultrasound in much anticipation.  However, buried deep within my heart was this haunting fear that our baby's heartbeat would not be heard….

….As we entered the door to my doctor's office...I felt a certain nervous excitement, which made me even more thankful that my husband was by my side.  We had only been sitting down for about five minutes before the nurse called my name.  We headed to the room where the ultrasound would be conducted.  After updating some medical history and getting my blood pressure checked, the nurse assured us that the doctor would be in shortly.

As our doctor entered the room, my nervous excitement momentarily increased...‘This is it’, I thought to myself.  She introduced herself and I introduced my husband.  Then without hesitation she motioned me to come over to the bed so we could begin the ultrasound.  She got the machine ready and put the warm ointment on my belly and began moving the wand back and forth.  I looked at the screen for a few seconds then choose to look at my husband instead because my full fledged fear of what may or may not be seen momentarily overwhelmed me.  

‘There's your baby’, the doctor said after what seemed to be ten to fifteen minutes, although it was probably only five in reality.  I looked longingly with some peace.  Although to be honest, I had no idea what I was supposed to be looking at, everything seemed jumbled and unclear.  She continued to move the wand back and forth and I watched her as her eyebrows communicated that she was concentrating intensely, searching for something that should be found.  

Again, my fear overcame me and I choose to look in the opposite direction.  Eventually after a long silence, she said, 'I cannot find your baby's heartbeat so I'm going to send you to the hospital for another ultrasound.  Their technology is better than ours and there are times when they can find it when I can't.'  I choked back my tears momentarily, but as soon as she left the room I looked at my husband and they began to flow freely.  I am certain that he could see the fear plastered on my face.     

In my mind I thought, ‘This is my worst fear coming to life’.  My husband attempted to encourage me by sharing that he thought he saw movement on the screen where the heartbeat was supposed to be.  I attempted to receive his words, but all I could think was, ‘Oh no...This is exactly what I feared would happen’.  Although my heart was full of a million emotions and my mind was afflicted by fear, I began praying asking for God to help us...

….When we arrived at the hospital, the ultrasound technician explained that she would not be able to give us any information while we were there today, but that we were to report to our doctor's office afterwards to hear the results.  We shook our heads in acknowledgement and agreement…They took picture after picture and I attempted to wait patiently.  But by now my bladder was so full, it was aching.  I closed my eyes in an attempt to escape my present reality, and began talking to God about our present circumstances with short, repetitive statements.  I do not remember everything we talked about in that moment, but I do remember saying, ‘If this is really happening, I know You'll help us get through this’.  And although I meant it with all my heart, deep down I hoped that by some miracle our baby would have heartbeat.  

After two of ultrasounds…we made our way out to the hospital parking lot.  As we were walking to our car, I said to my husband, ‘Can we just go home instead of going back to the doctor's office?’  It was a rhetorical question, but that's really what my heart wanted.  I did not want to go back to the doctor's office to hear what I thought was coming.  I wanted to avoid that conversation with all that was in me.  Plus, I was already so exhausted emotionally and physically, I did not feel like I could even survive the conversation.

After submitting to reality, we headed to my doctor's office, checked in at the front desk, and waited in the lobby for what seemed like an eternity.  It was one of the longest moments in my life.  My husband checked Facebook and I played Bubble Breaker on my phone in an attempt to not think about what felt like impending news.  Finally, my name was called and although I did not want to hear what I thought was coming, I really wanted to know what the results were.

After we entered the room, the doctor came in and began speaking aloud my worst nightmare, ‘The hospital confirmed what I thought to be true, your baby does not have a heartbeat’.  She then proceeded to say many more things that I tried to listen to wide-eyed in a feeble attempt to hold back the tears.  After she finished, she walked out to get something.  I looked at my husband and lost it, yet again.  He came over and stood by me as I leaned my head on his leg sobbing.

After we left, I felt simultaneously numb and sad beyond belief, and so incredibly exhausted.  I had never experienced something so heartbreaking before.  I had never experienced my worst nightmare actually come to life.  Yes, I had experienced painful things before and had fears and worries come to life, but never my worst nightmare.  My heart was broken.  Yet my heart clung to the prayer I had spoken earlier, the promise that God would take care of us even in the midst of this.'

Now let’s skip ahead several pages to the next part of our story [See My Worst Nightmare - Take Two for my original blog entry documenting our second miscarriage]. 

On Friday, October 12, 2012, I woke up and realized I was spotting.  I was just shy of eight weeks pregnant.  Terrifying fear paralyzed my heart.  My biggest fear:  Having another miscarriage.  I began to pray and asked my husband to pray as well.  I pleaded with God that our baby would be okay and hoped with everything within me that this did not mean my biggest fear was coming to life, yet again.

Since our first miscarriage was a missed miscarriage that resulted in a D & C, I had no clue what a natural miscarriage was like.  And as evening approached, thing were progressively getting  worse.  My doctor’s office had tried to appease my worries earlier in the day, but as things continued to progress so did my fear.  When Saturday arrived, I experienced things that were honestly traumatizing.  I knew very well that what I was experiencing could be a miscarriage, yet at the same time my hope, optimism, and denial wanted to believe something different.

After doing some research, I came to the realization that what I was experiencing was more likely than a miscarriage.  And when Monday morning arrived, my doctor’s office confirmed that this was in fact the case.  Once again, I was feeling exhausted, heart-broken, and numb simultaneously.  I knew firsthand that there were painful, dark days ahead and many more emotions to come, but I was choosing to trust that God would bring us through this since He carried us through once before.   

I know I don’t need to into great depth about the brokenness my heart felt on those days and the days to follow because I know I am in the company of others who know what it is like to have your heart broken into a million pieces.  Losing a child is by far the most painful and difficult thing I have ever experienced in my life.  And there is honestly only one reason why I have been able to survive and that is Jesus.  He desires and is able to meet us right where we are.  And He did.  In the midst of the darkest, most painful experiences of my life, He did.  In the midst of my heartache, brokenness, hopelessness, emptiness, and disappointment, He did.  In the midst of my doubts, uncertainties, questions, and insecurities, He did.  In the midst of my fears and anxiety, He did.

There are a million things He has taught me on this journey, but there is one in particular that I would to share with you today.  It gives me the strength and courage to keep going, to keep hoping, to keep believing.  It’s a truth that He speaks to all of our hearts today:  “YOUR STORY IS NOT FINISHED YET.”  Listen to His Words. 

Your.  Story.  Is.  Not.  Finished.  Yet. 

God started writing His Story before the beginning of time and His Story did not end the day we lost our children.  He loves you and cares for you and longs to meet you right where you are.  I invite you to listen to His words to you today…

"Your story is not finished yet."

The lies of grief and loss tell us that our stories ended the day we lost our children.  The lies of grief and loss tell us that God does not love us or care.  The lies of grief and loss tell us that life is hopeless.  The lies of grief and loss tell us that we are all alone and no one cares.  These could not be further from the Truth.

When you wonder if it will always feel like this,

please remember, your story is not finished yet.

When you feel the emptiness

that exists in your child’s absence,

please remember, your story is not finished yet.

When you feel the deep grief that comes from knowing

things are not what they were “supposed to be”,

please remember, your story is not finished yet.

When you are afflicted by

the pain and emptiness of grief,

please remember, your story is not finished yet.

When you feel the uncertainty and fear of

not knowing whether or not you will ever

hold a child of your own on this earth,

please remember, your story is not finished yet. 

When you are overwhelmed by fear and anxiety

during a pregnancy after loss,

please remember your story is not finished yet.

When your empty arms ache to hold your child,

please remember, your story is not finished yet.

When your heart yearns for your child,

please remember, your story is not finished yet.

I wish all of our stories did not include these chapters of loss, grief, and pain.  I wish our children were still in our arms.  But I am grateful that these chapters are not the end of His Story.

John 16:33 states,

“I have told you these things, so that in me you may have peace.  In this world you will have trouble.  But take heart!  I have overcome the world.”

We have felt the trouble, the brokenness, the heartache that this world brings.  But because Jesus overcame sin, death, the world, and its brokenness through His death and resurrection, His story does not end here on earth.  For whoever believes in Him, has the hope of eternity (John 3:15). 

No matter where you are on journey, I hope and pray that you have heard God’s words to you today.  God wants each of you to know that He has not forgotten you.  He sees what you’ve been through and what you’re going through.  And He’s speaking to your hearts...

“Hold on, my story is not finished yet. 

There’s still more to come.” 

I know how hard it is to trust someone, especially in the midst of hurt and pain, but I can tell you firsthand that God is trustworthy.  He handled my broken-heart with love and delicacy and continues to heal my wounds and put the pieces back together.  And I know He will do the same for you as you trust Him as the Author of your story or rather of His Story. 

I want to leave you with an image from Revelation 21:4 that gives us a glimpse of what His Story looks like beyond this earth…

^“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. 

There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain, 

for the old order of things has passed away.”

And what a beautiful day that will be."

Light in the Darkness

Several weeks ago, some of my colleagues and I were discussing the fact that life experiences have the potential to affect one's beliefs about God, the world, others, and oneself.  For example, if a person is raised in a family where (s)he is frequently criticized and nothing (s)he says or does seems to measure up, (s)he may develop the belief:  "I am not good enough."  On a day to day basis, we typically are not aware of this process, yet we live and breathe its effects daily.  These effects are displayed through our feelings, our relationships, our decisions, our priorities, etc.  Sometimes they wear the face of fear or insecurity.  Sometimes their attire is contentment or joy.

During this conversation, my mind naturally drifted towards our recent experiences.  I began to think about our two miscarriages last year and our present journey of trying to conceive once again.  I pondered the thoughts that crossed my mind during the darkest moments of our journey.  Some thoughts I would honestly be ashamed to say aloud.  However, deep down, I know I am not the only one who has thought those things or felt that way. 

You know the thoughts I am taking about?  They are dark and hopeless and despairing.  An accurate portrayal of what a broken, grieving heart feels.  Empty.  Lonely.  Hopeless.  Afflicted.  They may sound a little something like this... 

"God hates me."

"God is cruel."

"God is not in control."

"Life is hopeless."

"I am inadequate."

"I am a failure."

"I am all alone."

"No one cares."

"Good things never happen to me."

What words have your broken, grieving heart spoken?  Don't be afraid to be genuine and honest with yourself here.  You are not alone.  We have all been there.  Although our words may not sound the same, our hearts cry a familiar tune.   We've felt the emptiness, the loneliness, the hopelessness, the despair.  Go ahead, say them out loud.

These are the thoughts of our broken, grieving hearts.      

HOWEVER, in the midst of these thoughts, we must remember:  Thoughts and feelings birthed from a heart broken into a million pieces are oftentimes void of the truth that anchors our soul.

Yes, they are real.  Yes, they hurt like none other.  But they don't have to steal the truth.  They don't have to be more than a thought or a feeling.  They can be what they are, but nothing more.  They don't have to define us.  They don't have to become our beliefs.

Let them be what they are, but don't let them be more.  Think and feel, but don't let them become. 

If you find yourself in the midst of the darkness today, remember the truth:  

"I have come into the world as a light, so that no one who believes in me should stay in darkness." - Jesus (John 12:46)

What if?

"What if we cannot conceive again?"

"What if we loose another baby?"

"What if my heart is broken again?"

As a counselor by profession, I often discourage my clients from dwelling on "What if's" questions, at least the negative ones.  Primarily because I have learned and experienced firsthand that there are typically no benefits from dwelling on these questions.  But I must admit that although "I know better", sometimes these thoughts plague my mind.  And I have reason to believe that you've had some "What if" questions of your own.  Whether they sound the same or look very different, I am certain we have both experienced the same paralyzing fear and overwhelming anxiety these thoughts can bring.

 At times I attempt to cope with these thoughts by pretending they do not exist.  After all, it's not very "spiritual" to have these thoughts of fear, anxiety, and doubt.  Right?  Or not?  I believe these thoughts are a very real part of being human.  In fact, I love reading the books of Psalms and Job because both David and Job had very honest conversations with God.  However, it is important to recognize one key word I mentioned earlier:  "Dwelling".

When we dwell on these thoughts, they begin to take residence in our mind and have the potential to steal life from us.  They have stolen my contentment, my gratitude, my peace, my joy, my faith, and my hope.  They have adversely affected my relationship with my Savior and blinded my eyes to His Truth.

And the truth at this point in most of our lives is that these are only "What if's".  They are not reality.  We do not know whether they will happen or not.  So in the meantime let's forget about these negative "What if's".  And instead choose to dwell on some positive ones.

"What if we do conceive again?"

"What if we carry our baby full-term?"

"What if we give birth to a beautiful, healthy baby?"

What if we dare to believe in possibilities?

What if we dare to hope again?

"No one who hopes in You will ever be put to shame..." ~Psalm 25:3

"I Will Help You."

Most of the time when I write a post, I feel inspired by a feeling, a thought, or an experience.  Today I feel the need to write because of the significance of the date on the calendar and what it means in our story, but honestly I just feel numb.  When we experienced our first baby's expected due date, I had much to say.  Today, I just don't know what to say.

There's something different about experiencing this for a second time.  Part of it is simply because I have been here before.  There is something about the unknown that is terrifying - at least for me.  As our first baby's due date was approaching, I was afraid.  I was afraid I would not survive.  I was afraid of the emptiness.  I was afraid of the sadness.  I was afraid of the brokenness.  However, once you've experienced something before, it's almost as if you don't have to be as afraid.  You know you can survive because you have before.  And that's how I've felt leading up to today.  I knew it was coming, but I also knew God would bring me through once again.  And He will.

I wrote a letter to Baby "J" this morning.  I wanted Baby "J" to know he/she is not forgotten and that he/she is in my thoughts today.  I wanted Baby "J" to know what today means to us - the day (or close to it) when we would have been able to meet him/her face to face and hold him/her in our arms.  I told Baby "J" how deeply I miss him/her even though we've never met.  And this is when I start to feel.

Today is so different than what I hoped for or imagined.  I remember thinking about how my sister's graduation present would be another niece or nephew and how much I thought she would love that.  I remember praying that our baby's birth would not conflict with her graduation ceremony so we could still be there to support her on that important day. I remember dreaming of holding Baby "J" and meeting him/her face to face.  I remember my dreams of being able to be a mother in a tangible way.  

This is the mourning, the grieving.  For things are not what we hoped for or imagined.  Our lives and our family are not what we hoped for or imagined.  Yet even in the midst of this I am grateful.  I am thankful for the blessing of being a mother even though it is in a different way than I hoped.  I am thankful I have two beautiful babies even though I have not met them yet.  I am thankful for family and friends who have and continue to support us on our journey.  I am thankful that Hope is never lost.  I am thankful that we will be able to see our babies and hold them one day.  I am thankful we serve a God who cares.

The numbness is wearing off and many thoughts and feelings and memories are flooding into my mind, yet I know I will survive this day.  I know God will bring me through the significance of this day once again.  Whatever significant days you have yet to face, even though the fear or uncertainty may be great, I hope you can take some comfort in the fact that God cares and He will bring you through.

"For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand, and says to you, 'Do not fear, I will help you'." -Isaiah 41:13

Not Forgotten

I am thinking of you today.  You have been on my heart and in my prayers.  I know this day may not look like what you hoped for, dreamed of, longed for, or prayed for.  But that does not change the fact that you are a mother.  So today I am wishing you a "Happy Mother's Day"!

In some ways, your journey as a mother has been one of the most difficult of all.  Saying goodbye to a child before you even got a chance to see his or her face is unspeakably painful, and to love furiously in the midst of loss is incredible. 

You are incredible.  

You are brave.  

You are courageous.  

You are strong.  

You are beautiful.  

You are a mother.  

You are not forgotten today and neither is your precious child(ren).  Even though our children are not in our arms, sitting on our laps, or holding our hands today, it doesn't change the fact that we are mothers.  It may look different from the outside, but on the inside our hearts are so full of love for our children who changed us and blessed us with the opportunity to be mothers.  

Jesus sees you today.  He sees your heart - the parts that still hurt, the parts that ache, that parts that long to hold your child(ren), and the parts that remember your child(ren) today.  You are not forgotten today and neither is your precious child(ren).  You are beautiful.  You are mother.