Here’s the deal. This post should be happening weeks from now, overflowing with joy and eager anticipation. 

This news should be shared slowly and intentionally with our friends and family, resulting in laughter and hugs, not in one blanket blog post. 

This isn't anything like the announcement I had planned for our third pregnancy.

We’re once again petitioning God to let our baby stay, and we’re asking for your prayers.

Last week I had an early ultrasound to determine the cause of some concerning symptoms. Fortunately, the ultrasound showed that everything about my body is progressing as expected. However, they were unable to find baby's heartbeat.

Technically, baby is still slightly too small (because of how early we are in the pregnancy) for them to be able to officially diagnose a miscarriage. As a result, I’m going in for another ultrasound tomorrow morning.

We’re praying that baby’s heartbeat will be found tomorrow, but we’re not walking in with blinders on. We spent half of my pregnancy with Norah in and out of doctors' offices receiving one piece of bad news after the other. It only took a couple of those heartbreaking appointments for us to learn how to read the unspoken expectations of the staff in the room.

There is still hope that tomorrow’s ultrasound will show that beautiful flicker of life, but based on the behavior of the staff at my last appointment, the likelihood of that happening is slim. 

So here we are. Currently wading through the same grey life or death area that we found ourselves in with Norah, and while familiar, the reignited trauma is physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausting.

So, we pray.

Death has changed my relationship with prayer. Praying and begging God for the life of my child for months, to then watch her die and subsequently be blindsided by my mother’s terminal cancer diagnosis and death left me angry, hurt, and confused for a very long time. 

Kristen Hernandez, a fellow loss-mama and co-host of the Through the Lens Podcast (a fantastic podcast that has gospel-driven conversations about life after loss) explained this so well when she described this as feeling “being burned by God”. (Their episode “When Healing Doesn’t Come” inspired me to write this post)

If I’m being totally honest, praying for help or healing has become incredibly difficult to embrace. While I fully believe in God's ability to do the impossible, I'm also keenly aware that His will may not include answering my prayers exactly how I want Him to.

In her book, Holding Onto Hope, Nancy Guthrie talks about her unique approach to prayer, an approach that has helped me to regain my spiritual footing after loss:

"Instead of praying, pleading, and fighting with God to provide healing and tacking on a tiny 'if it's your will' at the end, what if instead we ask God to please accomplish HIS will? What if instead we were to say, "Lord, would you give me a willing heart to embrace YOUR plan, and YOUR purpose. Would you mold me into a vessel that you can use to accomplish what you have in mind." And then, perhaps, we can add a tiny PS that says "if that includes healing, we will be grateful"

Holly Colonna, co-host of Through the Lens describes why this posture of prayer can be such a relief to those in the grief community: "This posture of prayer protects our hearts from testing God."

It guides us to pray for His will to be done, for our provision, and for whatever healing May look like in light of his will.

Friends, we’re asking that you pray for our family to be held in love tomorrow. Pray for our little number 3. Pray that we have the strength to walk whatever journey appears before us.

We're sharing this news much earlier than the conventional 12 week mark and understand that many families may choose to approach a similar situation differently. Friends, that’s absolutely okay. We’re doing what makes sense for our family and we ask that you respect our decision. 

This child has been loved and prayed over since before we knew they existed. The past few years have taught us to embrace the moments we have together, because life in this broken world can be cut painfully short. Not only do we want to celebrate the life of this child while they are with us, we know how much easier it is for us to navigate difficulty when we 1: don’t need to tell the same story over and over and 2: have the love and support of our community carrying us through. 

I’m not going to hide our struggle in the name of a societal ‘should’. Thanks to therapy, I know exactly how pretending to be okay impacts my mental health, and voluntarily stepping into that when I have the capacity to do otherwise feels like choosing to set fire to my own house while I still plan on living there. Even more than that, I know that so many of you have similar experiences, and regardless of how you chose to navigate your own experience, I want you to know that you’re not alone.

I believe God can and does answer prayers. I believe there’s a chance we could hear the heartbeat.

But I also know that sometimes the way God chooses to answer our prayers may feel like silence.

I’ve sat in that silence.
Even there, His breath moves.
Even there, He is still Good.

Our hope looks to heaven and rests in Jesus, because friends, this world will always be broken. 

Give us grace over these next few days. Tomorrow’s results will first be shared within our closest circles and then we’ll update everyone as we’re able in the following days. 

XOXO