Kelly Gerken, Author at Sufficient Grace Ministries

Finding Christmas In The Broken

December 12, 2024 by Kelly Gerken

A couple days ago, a pure white blanket of fresh fallen snow covered the
earth, or at least my little corner of it. Today, rain has washed it all
away, leaving behind a muddy mess. What a picture of facing Christmas after
losing someone you love, or when your world for whatever reason, doesn’t
match up with the picture-perfect Christmas we envision. Facing Christmas
after your world has been torn apart, and the beautiful innocence
disappears like the pure fallen snow, washed away with a painful goodbye.
You are left with the muddy mess.

The heaviness weighs down on your heart, stealing joy. You watch others
rush around swept into the inertia of the swirling tornado of celebration
and preparation. You may even join in as well. But, your heart weighs heavy
with the burden of how. How to celebrate the holiday when all ideals are
held in front of us – picture perfect families and gifts, decorated homes, a
season of joy and laughter while deep in your soul the lonely ache howls
deep, and a pained smile is hard to muster.

You may wonder about this Jesus. This Jesus we celebrate, the One who was
born in a manger to the virgin and the carpenter. Where was He when the
rains of death came and washed your innocence away? And, where is He now?

My own heart weighed with the daily heaviness of the pain others endure
mixed with my own missing, wondered how. How do I speak of the beloved
Christmas storythe coming of our Savior, in the midst of a mothers broken?

How does the celebration of His coming mesh with the pain that keeps a
weary heart from lifting her head?

Who is the Jesus? And, does He see? Does He know of her broken? Did He see
her stand beside the tiny, cold grave? Does He see her now, navigating life
without her own mother, and a trail of broken from the generations before?

People want to speak for Him everyday, to paint a picture of this Jesus. If
we are known as Christians by our love, then we are often failing to allow
our Jesus to be shown the way He is. He is the One that loves us so much,
He will hunt us down in the deepest, darkest pit of despair.

Christmas isn’t found in the hustle and bustle, in the gifts, in the busy,
in the lights, in the merry-making, or in the perfect picture of all the
ideals we hold up as a standard. It isn’t in the perfect family or the
perfect memory or the perfect red dress.

The broken aren’t meant to hide pain behind a strained smile, wondering
what they are supposed to do with the pieces of life shattered and
scattered about.

Christmas is for the broken.

If you want to know my Jesus. This is my Jesus. This is why He came. He
came for you.:

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon Me,

Because the Lord has anointed Me

To preach good tidings to the poor;

He has sent Me to heal the brokenhearted,

To proclaim liberty to the captives,

And the opening of the prison to those who are bound;

To proclaim the acceptable year of the Lord,

And the day of vengeance of our God;

To comfort all who mourn,

To console those who mourn in Zion,

To give them beauty for ashes,

The oil of joy for mourning,

The garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness;

That they may be called trees of righteousness,

The planting of the Lord, that He may be glorified.”

And they shall rebuild the old ruins,

They shall raise up the former desolations,

And they shall repair the ruined cities,

The desolations of many generations.

From Isaiah 61

He sees your broken. He saw it before you were knit together in your
mother’s womb. He saw it before He left Heaven’s glory to make a journey to
the cross He bore to rescue you. He saw your ruins, your former
desolations, the ruined cities, the desolations of many generations. He
saw. And He came. To comfort all who mourn, to make beauty from your
ashes, to offer you one day the oil of joy in place of your mourning and a
garment of praise for the spirit of heaviness that cloaks you in this
season of grief. He saw. He sees. And He came. To heal your broken heart.
To set you free.

He saw. He sees. He came.

Originally posted on the Sufficient Grace Blog by Kelly Gerken in 2014

Sweet Eva: Miracles on Earth and in Heaven

May 10, 2023 by Kelly Gerken

Originally Posted on the Sufficient Grace Ministries Blog: 30 May 2018 10:50 PM

On this last day of Anencephaly Awareness month, we wanted to share the story of sweet Eva. SGM Comfort Doula Kelly Gerken and SGM Remembrance Photographers: Erin Foster (maternity) and Kristi Bodey, along with the teams from Life Connection and Purposeful Gift had the privilege of walking with this family through their time waiting to meet their beautiful baby girl. Eva is so loved. She defied many of the odds, living much longer than expected…a life filled with miracles…even though it was brief. She was able to donate organs for research, as described in her mother’s brave and beautiful words below.

Parents Katie and David were surrounded with the love and support of their family and friends, their support team, and covered in so many prayers…every step of the way. Sufficient Grace Ministries was honored to attend appointments with this family, helping with the planning process. One of my favorite moments with Eva and her family occurred during the last moments of her life. The song Good, Good Father was playing on a playlist. I sang along quietly as Eva took her last breaths. Miraculously, her color…which had been slightly purple due to low oxygen and blood flow…changed minutes after she was taken to heaven. She was restored to a typical rosy newborn color. No one could explain Eva’s miracle. But, her family knew it was just another miracle from their heavenly Father…a reassurance that she is perfect in heaven and that they would meet her again one day.

The beauty, courage, love, and faith Katie and David share are evident in their eyes…in the telling of their story. It was an honor to watch them walk this path with beauty in grace…the sweetest beauty…even in the broken.

Let me tell you about my daughter…by Katie Yankee

Let me tell you about my daughter…If I could tell you something about my daughter Eva I would tell you that she was a fighter. She fought the odds. She proved everyone wrong. She fought to give us almost 6 hours with her. If I could tell you something about my daughter Eva I would tell you that she was strong. Just when we thought she had taken her last breath, she took another.

If I could tell you something about my daughter Eva, I’d tell you she was strong-willed. She was sassy. She knew what she liked and what she didn’t like and she wasn’t afraid to let us know.

If I could tell you something about my daughter Eva, I’d tell you that she was beautiful. She had the most perfect little lips. Even amongst great pain, even amongst the ashes, she brought us beauty.

If I could tell you something about my daughter Eva, I’d tell you that she was a miracle. Her skin lightened just seconds after she had passed into Jesus’ arms, something no doctors could explain.If I could tell you something about my daughter Eva, I’d tell you that she was light in the midst of darkness. She showed us that there can be joy in the midst of great sorrow.

If I could tell you something about my daughter Eva, I’d tell you she was a hero. She donated 6 organs for research, to help improve the lives of others.Many people said that I did something special because I chose to give Eva life even when I knew she would die. But let me tell you something about my daughter… It was Eva who gave me life. It was Eva who taught me to treasure each moment, to protect the ones you love fiercely. She taught me to fight. She taught me to be brave. She taught me to live with no regrets. She showed me that there’s a strength in me… Not because I’ve done anything special, but because He died for me. That strength comes from Jesus.Let me tell you something about my Jesus.. He holds a piece of my heart in His hands and her name is Eva.

Don’t Cry for MeWritten by Kevin Park (Eva’s Grandpa) from the perspective of Eva Kathryn Yankee

Don’t cry for me Mommy, I am happy and blessed.. Jesus called me home and my soul is at rest.
Don’t cry for me Mommy, you and Daddy gave me life. Five hours and forty-two minutes was a miracle, and there is no strife.
Don’t cry for me Mommy, they said I would not breathe. But I breathed and I cried and I held Grandpa’s finger, and because you asked- Our Father let me linger!
Don’t cry for me Mommy, my body is perfect. My cry used to be hoarse, but now I sing with a big voice, of course.
Don’t cry for me Mommy, I am running in a field. My bare feet are squishy in deep heavenly clover, and then I see Jesus and He just called out to me, “Eva Kate, come on over!”
Don’t cry for me Mommy, I am sitting on Jesus’ lap. Everyone is belly laughing because Jesus just began to rap.
Don’t cry for me Mommy, Jesus is telling me a story. When I was in your tummy, He whispered into your ear. He said my name means life and He helped to take away your fears.
Don’t cry for me Daddy, daily ice cream here. Blizzards in heaven have more chocolate and whipped cream. I know yours are good Daddy, but ours are like a dream!
Don’t cry for me Daddy, I know you would like it here. The wine is so sweet and the deer are all running. The does are very fast and the bucks have racks that are stunning.
Don’t cry for me Grandmas and Grandpas, I know you held me tight. You loved me so hard and you helped me fight. Your prayers and your faith helped me see the light.
Don’t cry for me Kelly, you helped my mommy so much! Especially your love and dedication, your faith, your smiles, and your touch.
Don’t cry for me friends and family today, because although my life was not long, our God was glorified and Mommy and Daddy’s faith was so strong.
Don’t cry for me anyone when you think of me today, for I am with my Savior and friend Jesus who said I am a keeper and he asked me to stay. God the Father and the Holy Spirit, too, have given me the chance to laugh and play and do a heavenly dance. There is no reason to cry and no reason to mourn, for I was so blessed since the day I was born. My Mommy and Daddy are forever blessed for their commitment to life and our Savior- passed the test. My life is recorded in history today!

Eva Kathryn is my name and I came to say: My life gave my Mommy and my Daddy and family a chance to profess their faith and think about the eternal dance. Heaven is a place that you could not describe until you knew me and could see where I was going. So don’t cry for me today, because now you know what I am knowing. That our faith and our love of our God helps our minds to see the showing. The angels and the cherubim are dancing and singing and I am dancing and singing too, and my dress is glowing.I love you Mommy and Daddy. You are so awesome and your faith is so strong. But don’t cry for me- for I will see you again soon, I promise you it won’t be very long!

A Grace Rebel’s Mother’s Day Survival Guide for Grieving Hearts

May 4, 2023 by Kelly Gerken

Originally posted on The Beauty of Sufficient Grace Blog: 07 May 2014 05:09 AM
Kelly Gerken

I’ve said it many times before, that expectations may be listed right up there with money as the “root of all evil”. Expectations, like those we have on “special days” set aside to honor us…birthdays, Mother’s Day…or holidays that really weren’t ever meant to honor us, but we’ve somehow claimed with our expectations…like Christmas and Easter…set us up for disappointment, regret, and feelings of unworthiness and lackluster. No good comes from it. Expectations can rob the joy from any woman, on any day, but there is an extra measure of struggle for bereaved mothers and for those battling infertility. An added sting to a wound already so deep and oozing with hurt.

Surely, I think mothers should be honored, and motherhood is a sacred gift. I’m grateful that I can be called mother by the boys I have with me on this earth, and grateful that I am called the mother of Faith, Grace, and Thomas in heaven. The interesting thing about Mother’s Day, is that while we are busy holding up our standard for what it means to be a mother, and to be adequately honored on our day, while comparing ourselves to one another and feeling all levels of discouragement and brokenness, the actual birth of Mother’s Day was a selfless one from an unmarried woman named Anna Jarvis, never able to bear her own children, and had just recently lost her mother (who herself was a bereaved parent). And, yet, she chose to honor those who are called Mother.

Inspirational. To the point where it almost makes me feel less rebellious of the day. Since my mother died, I’ve not been the biggest fan of celebrating. My heart swells with aching to be honest. Aching for what isn’t. But, Anna’s example, pierces my weary, battered heart with conviction. I know the desperate ache that drives a mother who lost her baby to feel agony, like salt in the wound when considering Mother’s Day, or when watching another woman enjoy what she is so longing for and unable to have. But, Anna, in her ache and in her need, honored the women who had what she longed for so desperately. I wonder if we could love one another with that kind of sacrificial love, as women. Our Lord certainly knows, we could use a bit of that.

My heart, while often warmed by the beauty of many women in my life, has also felt the chilly sting of the measuring stick held up by some, the envy, comparing, criticizing, sizing up, tearing down, that women can do. Oh, the ugly of that. Most recently, the sting has cut me to the core.What if we loved and honored others like Anna, and even more so, like Jesus? Laying down our lives…our needs, wants, desires, to honor and love someone else. What if we did that?And, if you’re still feeling rebellious about Mother’s Day…because I’ll admit I am, perhaps instead of allowing a day to steal every ounce of our fierceness, our beauty, our joy, we could choose instead to soak it in and embrace the day. It doesn’t even have to be about being a mother.

1. If you feel like running away, do it. Maybe plan a day trip with your husband and kids…or just your kids if you’re a single mama, or just your husband, if it’s just the two of you…or a friend if you are a single lady missing your mother or your baby. See a movie, have a picnic, eat at your favorite restaurant, go to the zoo. Get the Pete out…of anywhere that makes you feel like wallowing.

2. If you want to take a big long nap and say forget it. Go ahead.

3. Take some time to relax. Soak in a bath (with lavender essential oils if you want to really treat yourself!) Start reading that book you’ve been meaning to dig into. Sit on the back patio and sip lemonade.

4. Read a promise from scripture, one that reminds you that you are a dearly loved treasure. Just as you are. I like this one:
“I passed by you again and saw you were old enough to love and to be loved, so I offered Myself to you in marriage. I wrapped my garment over you to cover your nakedness. Then I gave you My divine promise to always be your Beloved, and I entered the sacred covenant of marriage with you. I wed you, and you became Mine. I bathed you with pure water and washed away the old blood from your skin, and then I anointed you with fragrant oils. I dressed you in an embroidered gown and put the finest leather sandals on your feet. I gave you the most luxurious linens and exquisite garments. I decorated you with the most expensive jewelry: bracelets for your wrists and a necklace for your neck, a nose ring, costly earrings, and a stunning crown for your head. I adorned you with everything a woman could wish for: gold and silver, the finest clothes of linen, silk, and embroidery. You dined on elegant meals made with fine flour, honey, and olive oil. You became a beautiful woman and carried yourself as a queen! You became famous among the nations for your extraordinary beauty—beauty that flourished only because I lavished My splendor on you.”
So said the eternal Lord.
~Ezekiel 16:8-14 The Voice

5. Pray a little. And, if you’re so broken and done you can’t muster words to pray, just sit with Jesus awhile. Just as you are.

6. Watch the sunrise, or sunset, or both.

7. Reflect on the gifts you’ve been given (And, I’m not just talking about the scrawled crayon signature on your Mother’s Day card, although that’s certainly allowed to make the list)…just anything that is a blessing in your life. I know it sounds cliché, but “counting our blessings” is a powerful weapon in completely changing our perspectives from weariness to hope. Gratefulness beats bitterness every time.

8. Eat something yummy.

9. Allow the luxury of a deep belly giggle if you can conjure one to the surface.

10. Thoroughly, unabashedly enjoy your people…your tribe. Whoever they may be.

11. Wear something pretty and put on lipstick. Or lay around in your favorite holey pair of yoga pants. Just be you.

12. Dance it out. Sing it out. Write it out. Paint it out. Play it out. Run it out. Do what you do.

13. Climb on the back of a motorcycle and feel the wind blowing your hair wild and free.

14. Reach out to someone else who is feeling down, or alone, or full of the missing. There is always a filling up in the pouring out. It’s just God’s Math.Just know, dear mama-hearted friend, that you are covered in love and grace. This day and every day. You never walk alone.

WWY – Sibling Grief

February 11, 2023 by Kelly Gerken

Walking With You was created to help support those who have lost a child. Together we share our stories, helpful information, scriptures, encouraging words, prayer requests, and more. Thank you to those of you who have joined us over the years, for courageously sharing your stories. If you haven’t joined us our private Walking With You Facebook support group, and would like to, you are more than welcome. This week, we are sharing about sibling grief and the effect our loss(es) had on our children. If you did not have children at the time of your loss, please share about your own experience and the added layer of difficulty of not having other living children. Next week, will share about subsequent pregnancies (after the loss).

Timothy was two years old when we were expecting Faith and Grace. His little life was turned upside down by my extreme illness and constant vomiting. Then there was a long hospital stay and little contact from me. Of course, he was doted on by his grandmas (my mom and Tim’s). So much so that when I finally returned from the hospital, I had to peel him off my mom. He was getting used to the “spoiling!”

When Faith and Grace passed away, I told him as simply as I could, in language he could understand. He has always been a very perceptive person and a deep thinker. I told him that Faith and Grace were very sick and too sick to stay on earth, that God took them to heaven to heal them. (Some experts caution parents to be careful about saying that the baby/child/loved one was “sick,” as children may then fear that they will die and go to heaven when they are sick. It is important to explain that the body of the child who is going to heaven has an illness or a difference in the way their body is made that can only be made well in heaven. They could not stay here with us. If children get concerned that when they get sick with a cold or flu, etc. it important to explain to them – that is a different type of sickness than the one that impacted their brother or sister. They will be safe and get well.) I shared with Timothy that God gave his siblings new bodies in heaven, bodies that were perfect and they would never be sick again. He seemed intrigued about the fact that they would have new eyes to see differently than we do.

In the weeks following their passing, Timothy drew pictures of his sisters (stick figures with really big heads!). He would sometimes give me a picture when he saw me crying – to “make me feel better.” He knew instinctively how much I missed them. I ran a home daycare at the time and during the early weeks of my grief, I was not working. For Timothy that meant no children filling our house with life. Lonely and sad, sometimes he would stand at the window and say, in the saddest little voice – “no kids coming today”.

Timothy loved to talk about his sisters and look at their pictures. He didn’t seem to notice their brokenness. That was so refreshing to me. Because I didn’t see their brokenness either. As time went on, others grew uncomfortable or tired of hearing about Faith and Grace. But he never did. We would talk about what heaven was like and what they would be doing in heaven. On their first (and subsequent birthdays), we would celebrate together (with my friend Ginny sometimes) with cookies and cupcakes – pink, of course for our little girls. He would blow out the candle. We would talk about them playing in heaven and Timothy decided they would be wearing Barbie pajamas! I loved his child-like faith, and I loved his openness in sharing about his sisters.

Sometimes he would even run to get their picture when a visitor came, making others uncomfortable. I loved his lack of inhibition. Truth be told, I think we could learn a little from the way children experience grief. They live their lives and let out their feelings as they happen, with unapologetic honesty.

With Thomas, Timothy had already experienced loss. So, he knew that pregnancy did not guarantee a baby. It broke my heart that he knew that at the tender age of four years. He prayed for this baby to stay. He prayed for a brother. A brother, he was given. But we soon found out that this baby would not stay either. We told him that Thomas’ body was very sick, and the doctors say he probably will not be able to stay. He will go to heaven when he is born. It was so confusing, because Thomas was still alive in my growing belly.

He shook his head and his little voice sounded strangled as he choked out the words.

“So, I won’t get to hold this baby either. He will not come home.”

We told him that we could pray for God to heal Thomas and let him stay – that God could do anything. But, sometimes healing does not always happen on earth, only in heaven. And we needed to trust Him to take care of us no matter what. I hugged him. He was heartbroken but trying to be tough. As a mother, it broke my heart that I could not protect him from this pain, and it broke my heart that I could not give him a healthy sibling that would “stay.”

When Thomas was born, it seemed like such a whirlwind. As long as I walk this earth, I will regret not bringing Timothy to meet his brother when he was alive – not letting him hold him. Tim (my husband) was in so much turmoil, and I didn’t want to add to it. I did not know if it would be more painful or confusing to Timothy to meet his brother. However, that decision caused Timothy great sorrow, and I’m so sorry for it.

Not meeting his brother and holding him was very hard for Timothy, and he talked about that for a long time. I did bring him, privately, to the funeral home, and he touched Thomas’ cheek. But, his skin felt different than a baby usually feels. The experience was not a comfort.

We talked often about Thomas and what he would do in heaven also, and we shared pictures. Timothy kept praying for a brother. We started traditions, like giving a shoebox filled with presents every Christmas to the Good Samaritan organization in memory of each child. Timothy enjoyed helping to choose the items that would be included in the box each year. In the early years, we bought Christmas ornaments to remember the babies. They are still part of our Christmas Tree, as every Christmas Tree should tell the story of its family. We had birthday celebrations – sometimes just Timothy and I – for many years. I read “Mommy, Please Don’t Cry” and “Someday Heaven” to him. We loved to talk about heaven. And those talks were a comfort to my heart as well as his.

In the fall of 2000, God answered Timothy’s prayers and blessed us with another pregnancy. Timothy spent the time praying that this baby would stay.

He would often ask me, “Mom, do you think this baby will stay?”

I could never say yes for sure. I would say that I hoped the baby would stay – and that I was praying, too. We almost lost James. There were complications in the first and second trimester. I don’t think I shared those with Timothy. His prayers for his brother to stay were so heart-wrenching. He was six years old by this time. So young to have faced such serious truths of life and death.

His brother, James, was born on May 3, 2001. And, this time, he came to the hospital. He held his brother, with a sigh of relief. James came home, Timothy doted on him lovingly (for the first couple years, at least!).

When my mom passed away in October 2006, Timothy walked the path of grief once more. This time, as a young man. My mom was sort of “his place” where he was always adored…loved…accepted, just how he is. She was his person, you know. He would talk to her when he didn’t feel he could talk to me (and yes, I wish he never felt that way…but, sadly he did, during those adolescent years).

His grief now is more like a man, and he doesn’t share it with me as much. But, I know that it was heart-breaking and life changing to say good-bye to his grandmother. And, I know all of the loss he has experienced has shaped his heart and his life. He had to learn very young what most of us don’t know until we are much older. At a very early age, he lost his invincibility and his innocence. Sometimes, we do still talk about what life would be like with all five children here in our little house, and what they would be doing now. Even years after I originally wrote this post, as he and his wife prepare to have their first baby, Timothy mentions them from time to time. They are part of our family, part of our story.

I worried, often, about the impact of experiencing so much loss at such a tender age, for our son. While there was heartbreak and grief, there were also beautiful gifts. God often works that way, creating beauty from the ashes of our sorrow. Our son grew up knowing the preciousness of life and of loving others. He values relationships and telling people how he feels, and understands emotions more deeply than most people, because of where he walked and some of the loss that he experienced at such a young age. If you are in this moment right now, struggling with telling your child that his baby brother or sister will not be able to live long on this earth and must go to heaven, please know, that with your love and support, they will get through this. They will be impacted, and maybe even heartbroken at times. But, there will also be hope and beauty woven into their story, because every life leaves an imprint in this world. Your entire family will be changed, because your baby lived, even if his/her life is brief.

We have always focused on the hope of heaven…that we will see our loved ones again someday. And there will be no more good-byes. No more tears. Bodies will not ever be sick or broken.

And I heard a loud voice from heaven saying, “Behold the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people. God Himself will be with them, and be their God. And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.” Then He who sat on the throne said, “Behold, I make all things new.” And He said to me, “Write, for these words are true and faithful.” ~ Revelation 21:3-4

I just want to encourage you to talk to your children. Include them as much as possible in the process. Share moments and make memories with them that include your babies in heaven. Realize that siblings are grieving as well. Be available to talk and listen. Answer their questions simply and age-appropriately. Shower them with love and reassurance. Keep their schedules stable and structured. Routine can be reassuring. Share comforting scripture about the promise of heaven. Pray with them and encourage them to pray. There are things, as I have shared, that I regret. It is difficult sometimes to make the best decisions in our own grief. Know that God’s grace can cover some of our stumbling efforts, and that we do the best we can in these difficult moments.

Recommended Resources for Sibling Grief

The Story of Hope: Helping Kids Express Feelings of Grief and Loss

Mommy Please Don’t Cry

Someday Heaven

Tear Soup

Someday We’ll Play in Heaven ~ Strannigan (Standard Publishing)

Walking With You – The Ripples Flow to Our Relationship

February 11, 2023 by Kelly Gerken

Walking With You was created to help support those who have lost a child. Together we share our stories, helpful information, scriptures, encouraging words, prayer requests, and more. Thank you to those of you who have joined us over the years, for courageously sharing your stories. If you haven’t joined us our private Walking With You Facebook support group, and would like to, you are more than welcome. This week, we are sharing the impact our loss(es) and how the waves of grief ripples flow to our relationship.

Tim and I were married very young and we had a two-year-old when we faced the loss of our twin daughters, Faith and Grace. I had endured a long and extremely difficult hospital stay that caused a great deal of stress and concern for my young husband. We were twenty-one years old at the time. Losing Faith and Grace was such a shock for us. We had prayed and hoped for a miracle. Quite honestly, I just didn’t think that our babies would be among those that didn’t make it. Maybe I was just young enough that I still thought I was invincible, and that covered my children as well. I don’t know what Tim thought at the time, and I was too absorbed in my own pain to ask. Just the same, we were shocked and devastated.

Some of the details are fuzzy for me, as time has marred the clarity of my memories. I do remember Tim missing me and worrying about us during the long hospital stay. It took all my strength to survive, so I didn’t feel the missing as much at the time.

He tried to make me laugh while wheeling my ridiculously large pregnant self to the specialist. I remember his smile when we found out we would have identical twin girls. And I remember the anguish on his face as the tears fell while he stood beside me while I held our baby girls and sang Amazing Grace. Once more, he tried to make me laugh and succeeded some hours after our daughters were born sleeping. He slept in the recovery room watching some random movie with me. I could never forget the ache of leaving the hospital with empty arms and a canyon of emptiness in my heart. Leaning on him for strength as we stood by their grave on that cold November day. The agony of sorrow when he went back to work. He held me often during those early days, as I cried.

Even while we were in the hospital, I knew that we were forever changed by the loss of our girls, that we had shared something that only the two of us could ever really understand. It separated us from the rest of the world and bound us more solidly as one flesh. I believe it drew us closer. He was quiet with his grief, having to remain strong. He needed to return to work right away to support our family and pay the mountain of medical bills.

There came a time when I knew my need to grieve openly and talk about the girls brought him pain, and I was grateful to share all my emotions and words with my friend, Ginny. I respected Tim’s need to protect himself and our family from the emotions in planning the memorial service, keeping it private. We didn’t want to add the family drama that often came with any event on both sides of our families to an already painful time. We weren’t prepared to have a funeral for our children. It seemed so unspeakable to us. And we both felt protective of our girls. It was important to me to respect his need to keep things private.

Months later, we began trying to have another baby, and I think Tim wanted to help ease the ache of emptiness for me, for both of us. I have often felt a great burden for the dads who grieve for their babies in a world that doesn’t allow them to express their feelings openly. They have to be strong. A father doesn’t just feel the weight of his own loss, but the pain he sees his wife enduring – a pain he can do nothing to fix. A pain he couldn’t protect her from. He couldn’t protect his family from this.

Finally, after many complications that left my body battling infection for about a year after the birth of Faith and Grace, we conceived Thomas. We felt relieved, apprehensive, and excited. Midway through the pregnancy, we sat in that room and heard the words “incompatible with life” in regards to our precious son. I looked over at Tim, and I saw the life drain out of him. It was as if the light went out and darkness filled his face. Hope left. I have never felt more darkness, myself.

I remember him convincing me to take the steps to leave the hospital. Next, facing “the choice.” He was quiet, but seemed relieved when I chose to continue the pregnancy. He supported that decision. As I watched him agonize over the fact that he was helpless to protect our family from walking this path again, I struggled with the burden of being “the one” who brought this pain on our family. I know that wasn’t really true. But, I felt that burden.

To this day, one of the hardest things, the thought that brings tears to my eyes each time I think of it, is the grief of Tim and Timothy; the fact that I couldn’t spare them of this pain. The sorrow it caused them to watch me carry our sweet Thomas, knowing we would have to say good-bye to him. The stress of that time was heavy on us. I wish I would have had the knowledge or support of those who had walked there, like so many of you. I did have the Lord, and He was enough. He carried me and poured out His grace on our family. But, sometimes, I think I could have done more to cherish that time.

I felt that my presence caused pain to my family. A reminder of impending sorrow. It may not have. They didn’t say that to me, but there was a distance. Mostly because of the stress of the situation. Tim was quiet and distant as the time grew near to meet our Thomas. The pain caused him to delve deep into a protective shell. I clung to the Lord for strength, and leaned on Ginny and Dinah, as he wrestled with what was happening within.

When Thomas was born, the pain was so great for Tim. I felt the joy of meeting Thomas, while Tim’s sorrow broke forth heavily. We leaned on each other once more in those early days. He respected that I needed to talk about and remember our children, and I respected that he often needed me to do that with someone other than him. After the initial days of grief, we talked little about the experience to each other.

This time when the desperate ache for a baby to fill my empty arms came, neither of us had the courage to say that we were ready to try for another baby. Fear of another loss was so strong. Tim was very protective of the threat of additional pain for our family. When we were surprised with James’ conception, it was a time of great trepidation and anticipation. I wanted to hold on to hope and joy, knowing that I would not get this chance again. I wanted to cherish every moment I was given with this precious baby. But, for Tim, all that we had endured had taken its toll, and the stress of watching me struggle through another pregnancy and the possibility of another loss was just too much. It was a very difficult time in our marriage.

God brought us through so many trials over the course of our marriage. He has healed our brokenness, renewed our love and strengthened our joy. We walk with Him and trust in Him together, now. But it was quite a journey to this place. There is so much about that time between us that needs to stay between us. But, I want to share a few things because I know that many of you struggle with the fact that men and women grieve differently.

Some of the main topics we are asked about are marriage concerns and grieving differently as a couple. Men and women are made differently (as you well know!). And we grieve differently. Every individual, actually, is unique in their grief. Your partner may be quiet, distant, angry, protective, or tearful. You may feel like talking about your babies, need to be close, may feel angry, tearful, or distant. You may not be feeling the same things at the same time. This can cause division and resentment when we do not understand that our spouse is still grieving, even if he/she is not grieving the same way we are.

Tim and I shared this sorrow, and this entire journey, but we rarely talk about it. We are able to talk about pieces of our story more now than we did years ago. He supports this ministry and all that we are doing. He is part of this ministry, and he helps make decisions, often reaching out in his own way to those who cross our path. We have always respected each other’s need to grieve differently and communicate that grief in different ways. It doesn’t mean that we did not offer love and support to each other. We did and we do. But, sometimes, I went to a friend to talk or share a memory that I thought may be painful for him. And we did not allow that to come between us.

It’s okay that he didn’t want to go to a special remembrance service years later. And it’s okay with him that I did need to go. I think it is important to recognize and free each other from expectations here. It will prevent being hurt when we feel that our expectations are not met. And it prevents resentment and division from forming between the two of us.

We are not some perfect example to be held up for display. Indeed, our path to the beauty we experience today was once covered in tattered ashes of brokenness. It is a messy journey, and we often didn’t “do it right.” We are truly bathed in God’s grace. I could write several statistics stating that there is no way Tim and I should still be married. We were married young, parents young, from divorced families (generations of divorced families actually), and we lost three of five of our children by the time we were twenty-three years old. And yet, here we are loving each other and the God that kept us through it all.

I do not say that as any great success on our part, but as a testimony to the greatness of the God we serve and the power of His grace that is always sufficient. We share a love today that is deeper and sweeter because of where we have walked. It is true that our God does “make all things beautiful in His time.”

Here are just a few words of wisdom we have gleaned:

1. Respect each other’s need to grieve differently. If at all possible, do not do things that may bring pain to your spouse. At the same time, do not deprive yourself of doing the things you feel you need to do to honor your baby your way. Find a way to honor your baby that also honors the feelings of your spouse.

2. Find time to laugh and do things that you enjoy together. Grieving is hard, heavy work. Find some time to keep it light.

3. Keep life as simple as you can. Try not to take on too much for your family schedule. Protect yourselves and each other from extra stress or things that may bring unneeded sorrow.

4. Find ways to honor the memory of your baby as a family.

5. Communicate with love and respect.

6. Take comfort in physical affection. Do not turn away from each other but turn toward each other.

7. Pray together and for each other. God is able to mend your broken hearts and keep your marriage. Guard your marriage and bathe it in prayer. You may feel too weak to pray sometimes. That’s okay. Saying, “God, help me…it hurts too much to even pray.” is still a prayer. It’s been a prayer of mine many times.

Two are better than one, Because they have a good reward for their labor. For if they fall, one will lift up his companion. But woe to him who is alone when he falls, For he has no one to help him up. Again, if two lie down together, they will keep warm; But how can one be warm alone? Though one may be overpowered by another, two can withstand him. And a threefold cord is not quickly broken. ~Ecclesiastes 4:8-12

Thank you again for joining us. Please let us know if we can support you in any way as you grieve the loss of your baby. I would be happy to send you a Dreams of You Memory Package and to pray for your needs. Also, it can help to share with someone who has walked this path. It is our desire to encourage you in your marriage…to pray for you…and offer any support we have to give. Next week, we will be sharing about how our other children faced their grief and ways to support them as they grieve their sibling. If you do not have children, we will also include facing another pregnancy after the loss.