My husband and I both brought children to our marriage. When we met I was a single mother to a two year old little boy. My husband at the time was a single father to a four year old little girl. From the first moment that they met each other they were inseparable. I knew that I wanted more children, if it was one or multiple. After giving birth to my son, I had health complications that lead to serious time away from him within his first year of life. His father was not in the picture; with the help of my parents and grandparents he was taken care of. I was diagnosed with Chronic pancreatitis about 4 years ago, after many visits to the hospital and 2 years before that with no answers. I always knew when I found someone that would accept me and most importantly my son, I wanted to have that joyful experience with that person. I wanted to experience the joy of being pregnant and bringing a child into the world with my husband. I was always envious of people that had that.
When we first talked about trying, it was about a month after our wedding. We stopped “preventing” since our wedding night. We did not really put pressure on trying, we knew it would happen when it was supposed to. I bought a box of ovulation strips and pregnancy tests on amazon. I remember taking the first ovulation test, and thinking like what the heck does “tracking ovulation” mean. I had an app, I recorded my cycle and it just happened that we “tried” on a day I was ovulating. I think I tested a couple times and really did not know what I was doing, or even if I was doing it right.
A couple days before my period was supposed to start I decided to take a test. I was also heavily craving pot stickers, and I began to be a little more cautious of my belly. November 7th I took a test, and there was a very faint line, I did not really see it nor notice it. I did not even believe it. I took a picture and sent it to a friend of mine, and she saw a very faint line. I said “I think I see a second line but I’m not sure.” Something told me, “You are pregnant.”
Me and my kids went to my grandmother’s house that day, and that feeling of excitement would not leave me. And the butterflies in my stomach. I then stopped and grabbed more tests that I knew were good, and accurate. I then started thinking of how I wanted to tell my husband. I stopped at a couple places after planning on what my plan was. We got home, and every test I took came back with two lines, and the word “pregnant.” I got so excited and I could not wait to share this news.
I told both of our kids, and they were so excited to surprise dad when he got home. They wore a shirt that said “big brother” and “big sister.” On our bed was a sign that said “Baby McCarthy coming July 2021” with the pregnancy test that clearly said “pregnant” along with a onesie that said “hello, I’m new here.” And a balloon that said “baby” hanging from our bed frame. I kept thinking it was so crazy that I was pregnant so quick and fast. I knew we were blessed to experience no issue with getting pregnant. The kids and I sat on our bed waiting for him to come home, when he walked in the house was quiet. And I went to the top of the steps and said, “The kids have something to show you in our room.” He knew something was up because it was a little weird thing for me and the kids to do. He was surprised, and excited. But it really did not hit us till all of the cravings started happening, and my body started changing. I was a little sick, but not as much as I was with my son. I would take weekly bump pictures starting the week we found out.
At 8 weeks pregnant, I tested positive for COVID-19. It came on all of a sudden, and symptoms grew quick. From the time that I felt my first symptom to the time I got my positive result I was so sick. I laid in bed 14 days straight. I had cravings for toast, Ice cream, peanut butter sandwiches, and sunflower seeds. My husband took great care of me and made sure I had everything I needed and wanted. I was in touch with my OB and they had no concern. Just to keep myself hydrated. We made it into the doctor right before the new year, and got to finally see our little bean. I was 11 weeks pregnant. We asked many questions, we had our concerns with covid, but everything looked perfect. There was a heartbeat. At that time I never knew what I know now. I never knew those words, “there’s no heartbeat.” I mean I knew it could happen but I never thought that it would happen to me. I have read many stories of women and families losing their child, or women delivering a stillborn child, but I never thought it would be a part of my story.
Being diagnosed with chronic pancreatitis we knew it might cause issues, but we were not certain what they would be. I also became very itchy at night. I asked the doctor, and he told me with everything that I went through with my pancreas, liver and gallbladder I should get tested for cholestasis of pregnancy. I indeed had it, I had early onset symptoms and we just would make a plan with MFM, because after 37 weeks, without being controlled and monitored it could cause a stillbirth. We agreed to see Maternal Fetal Medicine, and get their opinion and get a plan ready for anything that my body decided to throw at us. We met with the maternal fetal doctor at fourteen weeks, by that time we knew that we were having a little girl. We knew her name right away; Josephine Lynn. After my appointment with MFM, we looked at the pictures with the older kids and we were all excited. She looked perfect on the screen and in all of the pictures they took.
Over the next four weeks, something hit me. I could NEVER actually buy anything, every time I saw something or wanted something I talked myself out of getting it. If it was walking through the baby isles in Target or going through Amazon, I never actually purchased anything. I always told myself “I’ll wait” or “I have plenty of time to get stuff.” It was a weird feeling of longing for a little girl, but at the same time “I would never bring her home.” At the time I had no clarification of what this feeling was, it was just there. There were different things happening that just showed a dark sign. I had a flock of crows that followed me, from my house, to my grandparents, to my parents house.
We celebrated Valentine’s Day, that year it was on a Sunday, so my husband sent flowers to work on Friday, and my mom dropped off chocolate covered strawberries, which was a craving. The card that my husband wrote with the flowers had a message for Josephine and I. That night we went to a Japanese steak house that I have not been able to go back to. And on Sunday we went bowling with my parents. Sunday night I slipped getting out of the bath, I did not fall on my belly, it was more under my chest. I called the doctor on Monday morning. They were not too concerned, since I wasn’t cramping nor had any bleeding. They scheduled an ultrasound just to be safe.
When I got to the office, I got there a little early. I waited in the lobby for 15 minutes. The nurse brought me back to the room, and they were all dirty from the patients before. So she put me into a little conference room. As I was sitting there I thought that I was feeling little flutters, I kept talking to Josephine. I was excited to see her since it was almost four weeks since I saw her last. After what I felt was an eternity, I finally got into an ultrasound room. I remember laying there, and the doctor said “your placenta looks good, and no rupture.” Then he became silent, he kept moving around and looking for something, I couldn’t tell for what yet. I could feel a change of emotion in the room. He said “hmm” and kept breathing deeply.
I finally worked up the courage to ask, “Is something wrong?” As he stood holding the ultrasound Doppler, he said “I’m not seeing a heartbeat, I’m sorry.” I kept saying “no, that’s not right. I was just feeling her.” At this point I was not calm, I was not collected. I was hysterical, I don’t even know the words that came out, but I know I kept telling him he wasn’t right. He was wrong. I remember sending my husband a text from my watch; “she’s gone.” As the doctor left the room to grab one of the other doctors, to take a second look, I got up to grab my phone to be able to call my husband. As they both stood next to me, my husband FaceTimes me, and I’m hysterical. He asks me to calm down, so he can understand what was going on. I told him she was gone, and they’re not finding her heart beat. They go on to explain at the last ultrasound we could see her heartbeat flicker, and it was not in this one. She was folded over. There was no blood flow, there was no flow in the cord or in her body. My husband then said I’m leaving work and I will meet you at home. He told me to be calm, and we will figure it out.
The doctor went to leave the room, he stopped and turned around to look at me, and said “it will be ok, you’re the fifth one today that I had to give this same news to, just go home and be with your husband.”
His nurse returned, and asked if I had someone to come and get me. I didn’t want anyone to. I just knew I wanted to get home. I told her I would be ok to head home. She gave me her number and asked me to text her when I got home. The roads were getting slick, it was starting to snow a little heavier. As we were supposed to get a really bad snow storm that night. I got to my car and just screamed! I felt so many emotions at once. I was mad, hurting, sad, confused and I had no idea what was going to happen next. I called my mom, and she panicked. She didn’t know what to do, or what I needed her to do. I don’t have a normal phone call with my mom, we FaceTime, and normally more than 3 times a day. I could barely get the words out. I was just hysterical and crying. She told me to calm down and tell her what was going on. “She’s gone, I lost her. She’s gone”
She asked what does that mean and what would happen, and I told her what the doctor said, to go home and be with my husband we have another appointment in the morning with a different doctor. I drove home, I bawled, I panicked, I had no idea what I wanted, what I needed. I just knew I couldn’t and wouldn’t accept this. A million things ran through my head. “Why am I just going home?” “Why didn’t he tell me what was going to happen next.” I felt stupid. I felt as if I was no longer pregnant but I still looked like I was. I was carrying my lifeless child inside me. I am no longer giving our daughter life, I just sat in silence. Once I got home I just sat on our steps with my face in my hands. I wanted silence, but I wanted to scream and cry. My husband walked through the door, and he just fell into me and we both held each other tight and just cried.
We went and sat on the couch, as our new reality was settling in. I kept saying “why are we here, why are we sitting at home?!” That night we had a really bad snow storm. We decided to go to the hospital where I was going to deliver her. We got there and explained what had happened, the nurse went and got the resident doctor. She came in and she confirmed that she was gone. I then was questioning why I was feeling “flutters” Basically I got the “I don’t know what you were feeling but it’s not her..” Then I started feeling humiliated. Like I wasn’t wanting to listen to anything anyone told me. The resident doctor then informed us that the doctor on call was the same doctor that gave me the news that afternoon. I didn’t want to talk to him nor listen. I felt stupid, I felt like I just wanted to get her out. I didn’t know what my body was doing or thinking. My body failed. It failed me and now it failed Josephine. The doctor on call came in, and just looked annoyed. He started out with, “Are you ready to listen to me, because it doesn’t seem you heard me the first time.”
My husband got very defensive. And asked what was the next step. He then explained that he wanted my body to process what was going on. He told us that we had the option to get a D&C or be induced and go through labor. I already knew my answer, and what I needed to do for me emotionally and physically. He told me and my husband to go home, give us time to grieve, time to be together and process everything.
We went home. I cried a lot. It was quiet. It felt like there was so much to say but we didn’t know what to say at the same time. We were hurting. We spent time just processing it all, we spent time praying, and asking God why. We went through emotions, anger, hurt, sadness, joy, and ultimately just confused on why this happened. I found strength in knowing Jesus met her with open arms, and she was not suffering. She was in a better place than we could have ever given her. I felt that I was stripped of being her mother. We talked about what we wanted to do, what we needed to do for ourselves, for our family, and what was best to honor our daughter. My husband kept telling me that it was my body, whatever I wanted to do he would support me. I explained that I was completely against a D&C, and I wanted to honor her body, I needed to do this for closure, I wanted to spend time with her. I wanted to be able to at least enjoy our moments with her.
Surprisingly, I slept ok that night, and we both woke up, and headed off to our doctor’s appointment to once again go over our options and the process. My body started feeling crampy, and I felt like hearing the words of our new reality was finally sinking in. We decided to do another ultrasound, and went over her position, and what hospital we will go to, and the process. We talked about what labor would look like, and what would happen with her body, we got prepared on how she would look, we talked about finding the cause of what happened, and if we wanted to try again what that would look like. We asked our questions, but still felt like there were a million more, or something that we missed.
I felt numb, I felt like I was in a dream, a horrible dream that I would never wish upon anyone. We were silent on the way home. We were told to make it to the hospital whenever we were ready. We went home and we packed some stuff we would need and then headed to the hospital. My husband was like we should eat before we got there, so we stopped at “Waffle House.” It felt like my “last supper” I couldn’t finish everything I had ordered. It was good, I was hungry, but I didn’t want to eat. I broke down crying a couple times throughout our time there. Everyone else’s world around us kept going, mine felt like it was frozen still. I could not wrap my head around what we were about to go through, I couldn’t even think about what we were going to embrace. I was trying to prepare myself for what I was about to go through; emotionally, mentally and physically. Trying to embrace the journey I was about to go through with my husband. How this will impact me, my husband, our marriage, and most importantly our family as a whole.
When we pulled in, it hit me like a stack of bricks. The hurt, the guilt, the horrific feeling that I didn’t want to do this. I couldn’t do this. I would never walk out of this building with my child. I will walk in with a baby in my womb and I will walk out empty handed and feeling the most brokenness that I have ever felt. I didn’t want to take the steps to the door, I didn’t want to make this my reality, I wasn’t ready. I remember stopping, everything around me felt still. I looked at the building with the words on the front “Riverside Women’s Center” in big blue letters. “Why me?! Why am I going through this!! What did I ever do?! Why, why why?!” I cried out. I remember feeling the touch of my husband, I knew I wasn’t doing this alone. But it felt so unfair.
We walked in, with tears streaming down my face as I walked through the doors, down the hallway. This day was supposed to be filled with joy, I was supposed to be filled with excitement. We were supposed to see her eyes, we were supposed to see what color hair she was supposed to have. To hear her laugh, to hear and know her cry. We were supposed to feel the love and joy of seeing her smile. It was all taken from us. We walked in, hand and hand. Everything went numb. I couldn’t turn back as much as I wanted to, I couldn’t change what was about to happen. We walked the halls, saw new moms leaving with smiles on their faces and joy in their eyes. Newborns leaving, we saw and felt the joy around us. It felt like our heart was being ripped out, our whole world was crashing down, it was all about to change. Once we got up to labor and delivery, we had to press a button to be brought back. We heard “how can we help you” we hesitated, but told them who we were and we were there to be induced. Once we got that out we heard the sorry in their voice. “Oh! I will be right there sweetheart, we have been waiting for you.” With some comfort, we felt pity.
I will always remember our nurse. I will always remember the warm feeling she gave us the moment the door opened, tears started rolling down and she wrapped her arms around me. She told us her name, “I know this is not the journey you were planning for, but I will help you guys through this the best way I can. If it’s a laugh you need, a hug or someone to just listen, I will be here for the both of you however you need me to be.” She showed us our room, and got us settled. We thought it was a pity, we are the couple that is going to be delivering a dead child. We thought it was “I feel bad for you” But then we saw the raw emotion and care that our nurses had, they were a part of our journey. We had an amazing team of nurses, doctors, and a Chaplain that made an impact on our journey. They brought in a box of knitted items, that we could choose to lay her body in when she arrives. I remember choosing a knitted bunting to tuck her body inside, we picked a purple one because I knew February’s stone is purple. We picked a pink printed dress and a matching hat.
Our hospital room was filled with sadness, joy, laughter and tears. I could have asked for the moon, and they would have figured out how to get it to me. They made sure we were comfortable, they made sure they did everything that they possibly could for us. They gave me pain meds, they told me that I shouldn’t have to feel the pain or be uncomfortable. After a couple of doses, it really wasn’t helping so I decided to get the epidural. I got the “labor shakes” and was very cold. At this point it was 4 in the morning, we both were getting as much sleep as we could. My husband was laying on the couch. I woke up to a weird feeling and a change in pressure. My husband was asleep, I woke him up by breaking down and crying. I knew. It was time. But I was not emotionally ready, I was not mentally ready to part ways with her. My husband immediately woke up and came to my side. We called the nurse in, she checked me, she told me she needed to get the doctor. The doctor came in to check me, and she came to my side. She held my hand and said “Monica, it’s time to push.” I just cried and screamed “I’m not ready, I’m not ready for her to be really gone.” The moment that her body was out of mine, it was all real. It was all official. I remember shaking and saying over and over “I CAN’T”
My husband locked eyes with me, and told me to focus on him. “You can do this, you’re strong and it’s time, we have to do this.”
I pushed on time, and our sweet Angel came into the world. I was lucky everything came out together, and she was still in the water sack. Daddy cut the cord, and they broke the sack. As they took her body over to where a screaming newborn baby should be, she laid still and silent. And in that silence, I cried, and began to scream “WHY!?”
The doctor brought her over and laid her peaceful body on my chest. I just looked at her in awe, and as tears ran down my face, “What did it do?! Why did my body fail her?!” The doctor, with tears rolling down her face said “You did not fail her, you will always be her mother. She will forever be with you.” I will always hold those words very dear and close to me. At that moment I felt so much guilt because I wanted her, she was supposed to complete our family. I felt like I failed her. I was not ready to say goodbye. I was not ready to never hold her again. I was not ready to not have a life without her.
My husband sang to her, “Butterfly kisses” He was just in awe of how beautiful she was.
We were not prepared for what her body would look like. She did not develop “skin” yet. Her body was red, we saw all of her little tiny fingers and toes. How some of her body was we knew she had passed away in the womb 5 days prior to birth. My mom was able to come and be with us as well. We wrapped her in the blanket her siblings had picked out for her, and a swaddle blanket her great grandmother had made for her when we found out that she was no longer with us. My grandma, she had a 40 week loss, 60 years ago. So this was very real and raw for her to watch me go through this. She was there when I just needed to cry, and whenever I just needed someone that understood. We placed her body in the knitted bunting we picked out for her. We held her, we took pictures, we mourned, we spent time together. We prayed over her body. There were tears shed, there were sounds of laughter. We noticed her body changing, and things started to settle, we had her on a cuddleCot but that was not preserving her body much anymore. Even though we did not want to leave her, we didn’t want to say goodbye. We knew it was time. We wanted to honor her and her body. It was time, it was our time to say our final goodbyes, it was our time to give her our last kisses, and hugs. We remember what she looks like, but the thought of never holding her again or seeing her again was very hard to accept. An ambulance from Children’s Hospital was waiting for her. They took her from our room when we were ready. They let us know that she made it down there.
Walking out of that hospital without her was the hardest thing I have ever had to do as a mother. I walked out with my husband on one side and my mother on the other. What was supposed to be a happy day, and a time of joy, it was filled with tears of sadness and grief of the loss of our first child together. Without the team of nurses, and doctor I had and the Chapin that helped us through this difficult time; I knew I needed to do something for them. I made them each a basket filled with customized goodies for them and a card telling them how much their love, support and care meant to us.
It took me a while to let go of not knowing the little things, things we take for granted daily. The sound of her laugh, cry or even her voice. The color of her hair or eyes. Her dreams and aspirations. I would never be able to hold a conversation with her. I will never get to see her graduate high school or college. I will never see her get married. I get to be a mother to her, but filled with heartache of never knowing her. It took everything out of me. It changed the woman, wife, mother I am today.
The days got easier. We got some answers back. We knew she had a growth restriction because she came out a lot smaller than what she should have been. There were 28 blood clots within the cord, and the placenta. The placenta started failing. COVID had an impact on us losing her. We got the clear whenever we wanted to try. We began to really try in June, and we fell pregnant. It hit me hard, because I would be due around the time we lost our angel. We went in for an ultrasound at 6 weeks, everything looked good and there was a heartbeat. We were excited, but we knew anything could happen. We had a follow up ultrasound at 9 weeks, and we heard those words again, “I’m sorry there is no heartbeat.” Once again, I felt helpless, I once again felt guilt and heartache. We then started asking questions. Which we knew we wouldn’t know right away, but we had a plan! We were told that I would get a pill, and that would start the miscarriage process. I picked up the medicine from the pharmacy and it began that night. We agreed that I would “catch” everything so we can try to get answers.
Through testing we found out that that baby was going to be a boy! And we lost him because of a “Trisomy 22” Chromosome disorder. Our doctor gave us the “go ahead” to try again, she told us that “it wouldn’t happen again” “it was only those two pregnancies” That did not sit well with me nor my husband. In his eyes he couldn’t keep watching me go through this again and again. He felt like we were just “killing babies.” We didn’t want to try again without getting a second opinion. We scheduled to see a fertility doctor to get his opinion on what was going on. We got everything looked at; blood checked and consultation of our history. We sat and asked questions, went over all of our chances and all of the possibilities of the good or bad outcomes. There was another doctor that was sitting in with us and the doctor. She looked familiar but I couldn’t place her. He met us in another room to do an inner ultrasound, he told me everything looks good, and I had. Good, young, and healthy ovaries. He said that I was already making new fresh eggs.
He then said “Does she look familiar?” I looked at her, and said “Yes, but I could not place from where.” She took her mask down, and said “I was the one that delivered Josephine.” I sat there in the uncomfortable sterile room, with a blank ultrasound machine, once again all of the feelings and emotions came flooding back. I was just in awe that she remembered her, her name, me and my husband, she remembered our story. We hugged. And I couldn’t help but thank her, thank her for being an amazing human, a selfless human and an amazing doctor. I was very appreciative that she was a part of our journey. She gave me strength when I thought I was at my weakest. She then told me how strong I was. That day and everyday since. And thanking us for letting her be a part of our story.
We were supposed to go through more testing through my next cycle and ovulation. But I fell pregnant. And I found out after missing my period in October. I thought I was just getting into a new rhythm, because I switched jobs, and was working with a new woman and didn’t think much about it. After being intimate one time, not really putting the pressure on trying, we got lucky and we fell pregnant.
We found a new doctor, and from the beginning me and my husband both loved her. We felt that we could trust her. She let me come in weekly to get an ultrasound to make sure everything was ok, there was still a heartbeat, along with growth was doing good. Anytime I had any anxiety about anything they reassured me and let me come in to see our little bean. I was able to bring my husband, I was able to bring my other children, and even my grandma to an appointment. We took every precaution. We did everything she said. As much as we were waiting for the ball to drop, we kept very optimistic but we were also very optimistic.We found out the gender, another little girl. We were so excited, but we also knew that she was not going to take the place of Josephine. We could not pick a name. We kept trying to go through all of the combinations and we couldn’t settle on anything. No name felt right.
I got Covid around 14 weeks pregnant. 2 times within 365 days. As my anxiety rose, my doctor reassured me it would all be ok. I got so anxious, I was so scared that I would lose this baby girl to Covid too. I got Lovenox shots two times a day, I got baby aspirin, and I got the antibodies infusion. My anxiety got me so worked up and scared that my doctor arranged for me to come to the office and have an ultrasound done, in the parking lot, in my car and below freezing temperatures. It made me feel so much more reassured to know they went out of their way to be there for me anyway I needed during this time.
We got referred to MFM at 20 weeks. At that appointment that was the first time back to the hospital since having Josephine. I walked those same hallways. It hurt so much. The anxiety rose, as I thought I wouldn’t leave this hospital again with a baby. I was so scared of getting bad news. At that appointment our rainbow little girl was measuring really small, and only in the eighth percentile. That news began to scare us. It started to weigh heavy, and our minds filled with questions and concerns. Once again we went into our OB and she reassured me that she wasn’t worried. The doctor I saw at MFM wasn’t worried. He wanted to keep watch and he knew a plan if we noticed the placenta failing her. We were still worried we could possibly lose her too. We returned in 4 weeks. This time I had my husband with me. She was measuring at twenty third percentile. We finally settled on a name. We wanted to honor her sister in some way.
It hit us, Adeline Josephine. We decided to use Josephine as a middle name to always keep our daughter in heaven. We wanted to always keep her alive. So much power, beauty and strength. This way we could talk about her sister in heaven. And always share our story.
Over this time we all found our own different ways to deal with the emotions and feelings that we were going through. Having the talk with our two older kids after each loss was a hard conversation to have. As one child was seven years old and the other child was just about to turn five. They did not quite understand everything that we had to go through but we shielded them from the ugly. They definitely were sad they felt the grief and the loss in their own way. There are a couple things that I will always hold dear to my heart as our five year old was really close. He would always talk to his little sister when she was in my belly, he would always rub my belly, say hi and give her a kiss. A week to two weeks after losing Josephine our five-year-old had dreams with a Josephine in them. He would wake up telling me that he visited heaven, he ran in the fields and played in the trees. He would tell us that Josephine looked like a perfect mix between him and his sister. They swing and laugh and dance and play, he told me that he couldn’t pick what was more beautiful heaven or his sister. The last dream that he had with her he said “ mommy, Josephine told me that God is going to put a brother and a sister in your belly.” As much as we couldn’t believe or didn’t want to believe looking back at our story, he did. He put a little boy in my belly and he gained his wings very early and now with little sweet Adeline in my belly.
We all have faced different traumas over the last year. We have seen joy and excitement in our children’s eyes as they waited patiently through every time that we were pregnant. We watched the joy in the excitement slip away when we gave them the news about Josephine. We watched their joy and excitement when we found out we were pregnant over the summer and we watched it all slip away when we lost that baby too. As I am coming close to the end of this pregnancy they still hold the joy in meeting their sister soon. They ask and they wonder about their little sister all the time. They will ask if she is OK. They will ask if she is moving and what the doctor said at my appointment. They cannot wait for the day that we bring our rainbow baby home.
It has not been an easy pregnancy, but hasn’t been bad either. Had a couple flare ups with my pancreas. I had a hematoma bleed at 9 weeks, and gestational diabetes. On top of making sure the placenta is working. NSTs and BPP ultrasounds weekly starting at 32 weeks. We are now in single digit weeks, and we cannot wait for her arrival. We are so excited to hear her first cry. It has been a long, hurtful journey but at the same time we are so blessed to be on this journey, to be able to share our story, to meet new friends, and to help people through their storm. As I would never wish this journey, less heartache, and a mothers pain of losing a child, it does get better, it does get easier. I have learned that little accomplishments in this pregnancy means so much to me and to my family but not everybody understands.
To our sweet Josephine I hope that you know we love you, we miss you every single day and we know that you are making waves up in heaven. We will always talk about you, we will always share our story and be open about everything we have been through.
To our sweet Adeline you are loved more than you will ever know, you are wanted, you are prayed for, and we have longed for the day that we get to lay our eyes on your sweet face and for that moment our ears first hear your cry.
There has been one Bible verse that I have held on to from the very beginning. It has given me strength when I have lost all hope. It has given me light and sunshine through our storm and black clouds.
Isaiah 66:9 says –
I will not cause pain without allowing something new to be born.
And I know indeed, the pain and trauma we have gone through will bring our Rainbow baby to us. I pray for all the ones feeling this pain, I pray for all the empty arms of parents that are grieving their children. This is not an. easy journey. It is not a fair journey and I wish no mother, father, or sibling would have to go through this pain and have to experience something this unfair.
Photos taken by VioletJade Photography.
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