the *m* word

I'm going to be honest from the get go. I can't believe I'm writing this.

I feel exposed, vulnerable, and so fearful. but here goes nothing.

On January 2nd, 2016 Derek and I found out we were pregnant.

It was the most thrilling moment of our lives. I pretended that a gift had been left way under the Christmas tree that I had forgotten to give him. He opened, and inside was the positive pregnancy test. We both looked at each other like OHMYGOSH is this actually happening? It was beautiful, simple, innocent, and sadly, fleeting. 

On July 18th, 2016 Derek and I found out we were pregnant... 

This one felt a little different; I'll get there soon. 

But, before I get any further, I need to tell you what you're going to read.

You are going to read our story.
You are going to read about the most terrible 8 month of our lives.
You are going to read about the highs, the lows, the beautiful and the ugly. 

[You are going to read about miscarriage...or as I like to call it: "M!$&@^^!@#*" because if we are honest hearing those words out loud is like yelling ^#%#$@ in the most quiet room packed with people... It's awkward, uncomfortable, and painful.]

You are going to read about how we are doing (mentally...emotionally...all the ways...)
You are going to read about how I have been walking with Jesus on very shaky ground.
You are going to read about this unshakeable message & love I have for all women.
You are going to read about how to be with (not help) families who've had miscarriages. 

Why am I writing this, you ask?

Here are a few reasons...

1. Writing is healing for me (and LORD knows I need healing). 

2. I know there are thousands of women out there who need hope and healing.

3. I am convinced that I cannot keep silent, because:
4. "The LORD is righteous is all his ways and faithful in all he does"(Psalm 145:17), EVEN WHEN LIFE SUCKS....

So, if you don't mind, take this journey with me.
Take this journey with me as I share our story, in a very raw and humbling way.

If you are reading this, and you haven't experienced a miscarriage thank you for taking the time to read. Thank you for taking a glance inside this mama's head and heart. I pray that your heart may be stirred and moved to compassion and grief and forever changed.

If you are a mama, who lost their baby, or struggles with infertility...I am sorry for your pain. I am sorry to say but reading this might hurt a little (because you and I know the pain will never go away). It might hurt because there is no amount of time and "fix" that will ever make you forget that baby (or babies, or absence of baby). The details might take you back to a place you never wanted to go again. But, I hope the pain and the truth that you read will only aid you in your healing.
Keep reading mama.

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So, on January 2nd, 2016, Derek and I found out we were pregnant.

On February 22nd, 2016, Derek and I found out that our baby's heart was not beating (that's the softest way I can muster to say it).
to save you from trying to guess, we were just shy of 10 weeks along.

It was a Saturday afternoon and I was at work at Starbucks. It was a busy day as usual, one of those days that wouldn't really be ideal to have an emergency.
I stopped for a second (in one of those moments that felt like everything around me muted and stopped), I felt something *down there* (sorry not sorry) and I knew in the pit of my stomach something wasn't right (a woman's intuition is sickening).

So I asked my shift supervisor if I could go on a break and I grabbed my phone and went to the bathroom, to find that the pit in my stomach was accurate.
The last thing you on Earth you want to see. I will never see blood the same. The verse, "The life of every creature is its blood..." (Leviticus 17:11), became so very real to me in that moment.

I went out to my car. I couldn't swallow. I couldn't cry. I couldn't breath.
I called Derek and told him what happened. I then called my friend, who helped me to get ahold of the doctor on-call, whom presumed to tell me that blood can be "normal" and not to worry.... I think *he* needs to retire (forgive me).

So I finished working, went home, and cried.
I cried the whole day.
I cried all night long.
The "normal" blood kept coming and I cried all day and night because I knew it wasn't normal.

I knew we lost our baby.

Saturday happened.
Sunday happened (I think...I don't really remember).
Friends prayed. Family prayed. I couldn't pray. It was too late. I knew what happened.
I repeat,  *I could not pray* (God forgives)

Then Monday came.

I called my doctor first thing, and she told me to come in.
Derek and I walked through that hallways (which felt like the walk of shame) into the world's most ugly and depressing room, the ultrasound room.

The lady was cold and stiff and she turned on that screen to tell us what I already knew.
"I am not finding a fetal heartbeat..."
In my head I was screaming BUT IT WAS JUST THERE WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO IT (because we just had an ultrasound at 6 weeks; I was naive)...

But i knew.
And we cried some more.
And then some more.
And I got dressed as I was still bleeding out what I now knew what not "normal" and walked to the doctors office...

She walked in with a face that will forever be ingrained in my head.
It was a face that said, "Im sorry/poor you/what you thought was right/its over/its done/this sucks,"  and she "confirmed" that the baby was dead (they would never use that word).

I don't remember much after that but I can tell you a little of what was in my head; it went a little like:
"What is wrong with me?"
"Why does my body suck?"
"Why couldn't I keep my baby alive?"
"I am so broken!"
"How will I ever get over this?"
"I am never getting my hopes up again!"

The days ahead were LIVING HELL. no one. I repeat, no one (including my doctor) told me how *bad* it was going to be to pass a miscarriage on your own at home.
I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy...

I have never in my life experienced the kind of pain that I did that Wednesday night when I couldn't breath or walk or talk as this baby left my body.

There was no better way to face that the face that my baby had died than feeling like I myself was actually dying...

And then it was over.
I mean the physical pain was over.
The emotional and spiritual pain had just begun.

There were little snippets of light in what was the darkest hours of my life. Our friends and family sent us flowers, cards, movies, and oreos. They cried with us and sat with us. I know they would've done anything, but there was nothing they could do. I just needed to be alone.

I couldn't imagine going through this again. I was so afraid to "try" again to have a baby... I literally didn't think I would make it out alive if I had to do it.
[side note: I know there are so many mamas reading this who've had multiple miscarriages. you are stronger than i can even fathom. i truly love you in so many ways.]


But June came along.

On July 18th, 2016, Derek and I found out we were pregnant.

I cant even count all of the tears that have been shed since that day.
I have cried every day for the past 12 weeks. every day. every single day.

I'm not telling you that because you should feel bad for me.
I am telling you that because while there was a new baby in me, I was and still am grieving my first baby.

With our first baby I had no fears, no worries, and no questions.
With our second baby I have every fear, every worry, and every question.

So, how are we?

We are a statistic.
They tell you that 15-20% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage, but thats just a number...
UNTIL you are one of them.
We are one of them.
We are a statistic.

After the miscarriage was over, and I came out of hiding back into reality, I didn't know how to act.
I was so lonely. I was so ashamed. I was so hurt. I was so disappointed.
I have this broken relationship with my body that I never thought possible. Some days I hate it [my body], some days I am proud of it. Some days it fails me. Some days it saves me.

How are we? We are OKAY.

We are just okay, and I am glad to be there.
The pain is real and seeing those ultrasounds again (for announcement pictures) hurt so deeply.
The wounds are open and raw and real.
I still cry almost every day.
I cant even write this without weeping.
Its just so real.

And, while we will never get over it, we are healing...


Oh, and what about Jesus?

I couldn't get much further in this blog without talking about the most fundamental component to this situation, that being God.

My relationship with Jesus these past 8 months have been like starting all over.

I thought I knew this God... (ya know, the one we worship every Sunday?)
I thought I knew what the Bible said about hardship and suffering.
I thought I knew all the theology about God's goodness, faithfulness, and mercy.
I thought I knew what I would say to someone in this situation (*repeat* I thought).
I went to SEMINARY, HELLO... I was *prepared* for this.

I can laugh now because the suffering I knew was for the birds.

I crashed and burned. hard. and as cheesy as it sounds, it was right there, in the mire, that I saw Jesus in a new and very real way.

For the first time (okay not the first, but the first REAL time) in my life I asked the questions;
"How can God be good and sovereign and still let this baby die?! How is it that he knew?! Did he make it happen?! How does a sovereign God and a broken world collide so harshly?! Is God even trustworthy?!"

For the first time (the actual first time) in my life I said these things;
"God Im pissed at you! I am broken and sad and I wonder if you even care! You are the Creator of life and I don't think I can trust you again!"

So you might be thinking that I'm going to tell you that God answered me and gave me insight...

Guess what?
I DON'T HAVE ANY ANSWERS...(okay maybe a few, but thats not the point).

The point is, I didn't get the answers I wanted.
I don't get to "make sense" of this (because sin and death make no sense).
I'll never be able to explain it away using God...

and for the love of everything in this world "NOT EVERYTHING HAPPENS FOR A REASON!!!"
(so please stop people; that is NOT the Christian answer to suffering).

Before you think I've fallen off the deep end, listen up.
I have learned that what happened with our baby SUCKED for Derek and I BUT it absolutely CRUSHED the heart of God.
I have learned that evil and pain break God's heart and he mourns with us.
I have learned that God's promises to be near, to never leave or forsake me, to walk with me in the valley is what I needed more than ANYTHING.
All of my life I thought that in suffering I would need something to make sense, "a really good theology of suffering," but really all I needed was a God who was bound to be through blood and friendship and never once left my side.

He gave me exactly what I needed. Himself.

When we suffer, our theology is called into question. (mine was)
I could have thrown out my theology with the rest of this "life" I had dreamed up for us...

But thats the thing.
Theology is only good if it makes sense in suffering (and by good I mean Jesus-centered, aka Christian).

If what we believe about Jesus doesn't "work" when we are at the bottom, then screw it, and throw it out.
I would (and still would) have given anything to know why my baby died. I mean ANYTHING.

But truly, I know that *reason* won't heal this heart.

A God who made himself broken, torn, shaken, distraught, and destroyed by the wrong and evil by bearing the most shameful, humiliating, and disgraceful cross, THATS WHAT HEALS A HEART.

and that's the kind of God you want when you are suffering.

his name is Jesus.


Women...listen:

The top two emotions I felt after our miscarriage was ALONE and ASHAMED.

These are LIES....LIES...LIES. (big fat, satan-sized lies)

We have to raise awareness about miscarriages, mamas.

Too many women are crying alone on their couches and faking smiles in the grocery stores.
I cannot bare to cry alone anymore and I cannot bare to suck it up either.

If you are scared, alone, and ashamed, it is guaranteed there are hundreds (thousands, really) around you feeling the exact same way and they need you and your story!

So, I encourgae you to talk to people about it.
If it hurts, that okay, because it has to hurt to heal.

I love you with a love I didn't know existed. I never in a million years thought this would be my life or that I would be a "statistic," but I am and so are you.

I know your fears.
I know how it feels to see someone on facebook announce they are due when yours was supposed to.
I know how it feels when your parents keep talking about be grandparents..
I know how it feels to go to the bathroom, without hesitation, every time, afraid of seeing blood.
I know how it feels when someone asks you "Whats new?" and it takes every fiber not to cry.
I know how it feels when people are you talk bad about parenting and you would give anything to be a mom.

I know how it feels... and so do so many others.

I will not be okay with hundreds of women around me walking around alone and shamed.
Will you?



SIDE NOTE: To the women (or men) who ask, "So when are you going to have a baby?"

I had angry words at first, but then I thought about how you don't know.
you don't know how bad it hurts when someone asks you that.
you don't know how we wish we could tell you.
you don't know how many people already asked us that today.
you don't know we've been trying for what seems like forever.
you don't know that we just lost a baby a month ago.
you don't know that you actually trigger more fear and shame.
you just don't know...

So, I'll let you in on what we wish you would know.

If your'e going to ask that dreaded question, "when are you going to have a baby?"
FOR THE LOVE please be willing to listen...

The chances are that when you ask a woman that question, they have an answer, but you don't actually want to hear it (i mean if we are going to sob all over you).
They probably would love nothing more than to tell you about how they want babies so badly, but they have been trying for awhile or they lost one a few months ago...

If you ask, LISTEN.
If you ask, pull up a chair.
If you ask, look into her eyes,
If you ask, don't ask in public, and be willing to hear what she says.

You have no idea what that would do to a hurting woman...

--> But seriously, if we can, let's stop asking that question.

to the rest of you

If you know someone (you probably know me) who has had a miscarriage, had a stillbirth, or struggles with infertility, there is nothing you can DO to help them (me, we, us, her).

The greatest thing you can do is sit with us and mourn.
Don't speak (unless its right).
Don't give advice.
Don't quote any cheesy verses (unless its right).
Don't look to the future.
Don't look to the past.
Don't reminisce.

Just sit.
Cry.
Hold me.
Pray over me.
Make me food.
Watch a movie with me.
BE WITH ME (or don't if thats what I need).

I read this book in January (little did I know how much I would need it, but God is gracious like that).
Its called, Lament for a Son, and this is my all time, hands down, favorite line ever on suffering.

...please: don't say it's not really so bad. Because it is. Death is awful, demonic.  If you think your task as comforter is to tell me that really, all things considered, it's not so bad, you do not sit with me in my grief but place yourself off in the distance from me.  Over there, you are of no help. What I need to hear from you is that you recognize how painful it is.  I need to hear from you that you are with me in my desperation.  To comfort me, you have to come close.  Come sit beside me on my mourning bench.

To wrap it up...

Thank you for following this journey to the end. There is so much more I could say and want to say, and I will say them soon, but this is sufficient for now.


The baby that is growing in my is NOTHING short of a miracle.
[stay tuned for a coming blog. it'll blow your mind]

There is not a day that goes by that I am not afraid.
I am afraid of posting this blog.
I am afraid of the way I have been forced into vulnerability in a way I never asked for.
I am afraid for the child in me now.

I didn't choose this lot for my life, but I will take it. 


At the end of the day, there is a 13 week baby inside me, one that I am so undeserving to love and care for.

And if and when we get to meet this baby (and our first one) we will share of God's mysterious faithfulness, because guys, he is so worth it (i promise).

Please pray for our baby, and all the mamas you know who are carrying one.

with all my heart,
Kourt

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PS-
God laid this blog on my heart and gave me the words to say, but I am a work in progress.
I am learning, mourning, healing and rejoicing.

If you are not a Christian, then a lot of what I said about Jesus will sounds crazy and nonsensical, and you are right. If Jesus wasn't real, then you would be right.
But he is real and he has given me light in the darkness, joy in the mourning, and comfort to the crazy.

The world leaves us with empty explanations of evil and pain, and Jesus doesn't offer explanations, but rather offers Himself, the one who took on all evil and pain.

You turned my wailing into dancing;
you removed my sackcloth and clothed me with joy,
that my heart may sing your praises and not be silent.
Lord my God, I will praise you forever.