How Great The Pain of Searing Loss

What a month this has been. How quickly a change in life and a sense of normalcy has also followed.

Just before all of this happened, I had an appointment with my therapist. February and March always seem to be hard months for me. Every year I admit I'm struggling, but don't understand why. Lack of sunlight? Winter blues? Lack of exercise during the cold months? Maybe. But my counsellor was quick to remind me that April is just around the corner, and grief isn't an unusual response for me this time of year. Year after year it always feels a bit surprising. I'm not thinking of Brooklyn any more than usual, but my body is responding in a way that is anticipating the sadness to come. "The body remembers what the mind forgets" - Martha Manning.

The past month my emotions have been very up and down, as I'm sure many people can relate to. The uncertainty in this time leaves me feeling a lack of security. I'm such a planner. I like knowing what is around the corner and being prepared for it. That just isn't realistic these days, and so I've struggled with that at times. On the other hand, all of the forced time at home has made me slow down and appreciate things I was too busy to be noticing. Aubrey and Aveline have such a sweet friendship and I have seen that flourish in really cool ways this past month, even though it doesn't come without moments of arguing... Our 4th baby Sullivan was born September 2018 and he is 18 months old now, in a really fun stage of exploring and displaying his personality. Being our last, we have really been taking in all of the "lasts of the firsts" with him. Not rushing to be places all the time has made this stage especially sweet. Derek has been working from home in our basement office, and I've been able to help him plan youth programming in ways I'm normally unable to. We've had some great conversations and have been able to connect. Despite the lack of control and the chaos in the world around us, there have been some really big blessings during this time.

Right now it's 2:34pm on April 4th. When I think back 6 years ago, I had been in labour for over 12 hours with Brooklyn already. Things were picking up and getting more intense, and just 3 hours from now we would find out that our sweet girl had gone to be with the Lord. I would still labour and deliver her lifeless body, into a world that would feel even more broken than before.

I wrote a post on April 21 about the stages of grief. A friend just posted recently on how collectively, the whole world is grieving right now and it reminded me of these stages and how I've felt each one of them at some point this past month.

It's so true. We are all grieving right now. For some of us, it's the loss of baby showers, wedding celebrations, trips planned to see loved ones. For others is loss of employment, loss of loved ones and friends. For a lot of people it's losing their sense of self. Trying to understand who they are without their usual routines, social outings, workplaces etc. COVID-19 has taken a lot of things from so many of us.

When we're going through hard (read... very hard) times, it can be easy to think we are alone in our feelings and hardships. Right now, everyone is suffering a loss in some way, shape or form. It can be overwhelming, feel impossible to come through when there is no end in sight,  It can also be easy to become self focused right now. Trust me, I'm there. While it's important to feel all the feelings and not push against them, I'd like to offer it's important to push against the grain, and be a light in these dark times.

We were so blessed in our time of greatest darkness to have others offering us light. This came in the form of meals (totally my love language...), time spent at our house with us, prayer, encouragement, people speaking Brooklyn's name when it felt like everyone was forgetting her. 6 years later and we still have people offering light to us on this weekend that feels dark and heavy. People texting us saying they're remembering her, cards being sent, etc.

While we're collectively grieving as a society, yes we need to take time to process, feel and care for our own families. And I agree it's not a time to overextend ourselves. But we also need to remember that these times are dark for everyone. If we're all caring for our own and not reaching out (from a distance), how will the world ever see light again?

As we remember our sweet daughter who would be SIX this year, it comes with mixed emotions. I pray that her life and her loss continue to point people to Jesus, to help others going through similar loss and to push us to offer light to other people during hardship.

Climbing out of the Trenches

A little while ago, I realized that between July 2013 and September 2017, my body had just one month where it wasn't nourishing or growing a human being. And boy was it feeling the effects...

I haven't written in a very long time. A few people have asked if I will again. I have always wanted to keep writing but to be honest, every time I went to write I would get scared of the vulnerability it would take to be real. As I scrolled through old photos tonight, it felt like it was time to write.

I'm very sensitive to the fact that it has been a privilege and a blessing to grow three humans, and nurse two of them. I know there are many women who long for the opportunities to experience these things. But in the winter of 2016, I realized just how tired and weary I had become.

I knew I hadn't given myself the proper space to grieve. We got pregnant with Aubrey so quickly, and then I was busy learning how to be a mom. Then 8 months later we got pregnant with Aveline, and this time I was learning how to be a mom to two. I was learning how to manage the different needs of two people who at times needed me equally. It felt overwhelming. I didn't realize how the beautiful chaos of raising children would bring to light so many internal struggles I had.

My days with two kids 17m apart felt very long. The routines felt never ending. My patience and energy felt thin. I started to feel overwhelmed with all of the things I had once longed for. Then came the guilt - "I should feel so thankful for all of this, after losing a child." "Why can't I just speak calmly and remember they're still learning too?" "Why can't I just be more like _______'s mom. They seem to have it altogether."

I remember a specific day standing in my kitchen thinking "this is what it feels like to have a mental break down. I can't handle this anymore. The girls would be better off with another mom who had the patience for them." Thankfully, I was able to recognize what thought patterns like those mean. And after talking with some people I trust who struggled post-partum, I decided it was absolutely necessary to get help.

Through this journey has come so much self-discovery. I've worked through a lot of the grief over losing Brooklyn and all of the guilt I didn't realize I was holding onto, as well as some personal issues that have been weighing me down for a very long time.

We can try to push grief, anger, sadness, etc. so far down, but eventually it will get to a point where it starts overflowing like a boiling pot. That's the point I was at in my life. There were too many things I had pushed down, trying to just keep pressing forward in life. But eventually my heart and my mind weren't able to manage simple every day tasks because they were so busy trying to process things I kept pushing away.

I am no where near the end of this journey, but some very positive things have come from realizing I can't do everything with my own strength. I'm learning what it means to rely on Jesus and praying through moments when I would have lost my temper before. I'm learning what it means to ask other people for help (this is a very hard one for me...) I'm learning what it means to set healthy relational boundaries. I'm learning what it means to ask for forgiveness from my children when I do lose my temper. And most of all, I'm learning how to be genuinely gracious with myself, and not hold onto guilt, because it's not actually mine to hold anyway. I'm not perfect at any of the above things. I still fail every day. But that's the beauty of grace.

Through lots of work and discussion with my therapist, I can now say with full confidence (and full belief) that there was nothing more in my power I could have done to save Brooklyn's life. This was one of the biggest realizations I had in therapy. I was holding on to thoughts like "if I had pushed more for an ultrasound", "If I had just told my midwife I was really concerned", etc. When in reality, I did those things and more. There was nothing more in my power I could have done. I am very much at peace with that now.

I am at a place where I can think of Brooklyn and actually feel joy sometimes. I know that may sound crazy, but now when I think about her, I'm able to remember the feelings I had of anticipation and joy when I was expecting her, and not JUST the feelings of deep sadness and longing. I will say I still have days and moments where my heart so longs for her to be here. I think that's part of living in this broken world. My heart longs for her because it isn't right to be without her. When Aubrey asks about Brooklyn, or says that her big sister is in Heaven with God, instead of crying tears of sadness, I'm now able to have tears of joy. When Aveline points to the canvas photo of Brooklyn outside of her bedroom, I feel excited to tell her about her big sister when she can start to understand a little bit more like Aubs does.

Reading this over, I realized my thoughts are so scattered. I just want to give hope to some parents who have experienced a loss or think they will forever feel like they're wandering aimlessly through life. Really I want to give anyone hope who has experienced loss or life hasn't panned out the way they had hoped. I didn't think it was possible to feel genuine joy again. I had come to the conclusion that joy just wasn't in my cards, and all I needed to do was to complete the tasks of life and keep pushing through.

Sometimes those big feelings of loss are really hard to deal with. But when we give them the time and space they deserve, that's when true transformation happens. If we let God bring us through the fire, he can use the heat to create beautiful beautiful masterpieces.

As Daniel Tiger says, "It's okay to feel sad sometimes. Little by little, you'll feel better again."

A Time To Taste

In 2014, when we lost Brooklyn, a dear friend who is all too familiar with loss, gave me one of the best presents I have ever received - a book called "Tear Soup". It was written by a nurse who has worked with bereaved patients for many years. She actually included patients in the writing and brainstorming. It's written like a children's book, but tells the story of a woman named "Grandy" who has suffered a great loss in her life. The author compares making a home made pot of soup, to how we grieve after loss.

At the end of the book Grandy's grandson Chester asks her if she's done making her "Tear Soup" yet. She replies: "Well, I don't think you actually ever finish. The hard work of making this batch of soup is almost done though. I'll put the rest in the freezer and will pull it out from time to time to have a little taste" (Schwiebert, 2013).

I've recently been pulling out my pot of soup quite often. The grey January days we've had certainly haven't helped. Lack of exercise and sunlight does not bode well for my mood. I know this about myself and even though I always know it's coming, somehow Janauary rolls around and I always feel like I'm in a funk. I've been thinking about Brooklyn and my labour and delivery with her often. Both obvious things and random things seem to be triggers for me lately.

Derek and I have been watching "How To Get Away With Murder". I don't want to give any spoilers, so if you haven't watched - SKIP THIS PART!!!! but the season finale of season two hit me hard. Derek was sitting on the other couch and asked if I was okay. When I didn't answer, he knew I wasn't and came to sit beside me while I "ugly cried" for a long long time. It was the first time in a while that I had cried like that.  This episode brought me right back to being in labour in the ultrasound room, while they were trying to find her heartbeat. The words Annalise (the mother) was saying, her reaction to holding her dead child, her husband's reaction to finding out their baby had died - all of it was just too similar to our story. The social worker we talked to a few days after Brooklyn died told me that 50 years down the road, I will still be able to put myself right back in that ultrasound room, and I really do believe her. My memory of those moments/hours/days is still as clear as if it happened yesterday. 

As time goes on, I'm learning to just sit with my feelings, instead of run from them. This is definitely a work in progress for me. When you've spent most of your life running from negative feelings/circumstances instead of dealing with them head on, sitting and feeling these emotions is really scary. Timothy Keller talks about how important it is to walk through the fire when these situations come, and how God actually uses the fire to produce beautiful things - assuming we actually take the time to sit and feel the heat.

For people to heal, there needs to be space for them to grieve the way they need to. In Western culture, we are encouraged to briefly grieve and then move on - of course continuing to be productive members of society. Often times when people discuss their missed loved ones, they are accused of not having "moved on" or seeking attention. But what if remembering is exactly what our hearts need? What if openly talking about how much we miss our loved ones, or how sad we are about the loss of what could be, is actually helping others deal with their grief too? Knowing someone else is feeling, thinking, grieving similar ways to you is such a freeing feeling.

"Grandy" says: "Then comes one of the hardest parts of making tear soup, it's when you decide it may be okay to eat something instead of soup all the time. (Schwiebert, 2013.)" Isn't she so wise... but how sweet it is to pull out that soup from time to time and have a little taste. It makes me feel like Brooklyn is close. It helps me to feel like God is near - because who better to know how it feels to lose your firstborn child than Him? It's even what makes me feel close to Derek.

"I've learned that grief, like a pot of soup, changes the longer it simmers and the more things you put into it. I've learned that sometimes people say unkind things, but they really don't mean to hurt you. And most importantly, I've learned that there is something down deep within all of us ready to help us survive the things we think we can't survive. (Schwiebert, 2013.)


Schwiebert, Pat. Tear Soup: A Recipe for Healing after Loss. Portland, Or.: Grief Watch, 2013. Print.

A Thrill of Hope...

Life with a 22m old and 5m old is busy to say the very least. While I still think of Brooklyn often, my mind is no longer consumed with thoughts of her. But Christmas time always seems to be different.

I have felt especially tired and worn down lately. I really couldn't pin point why (other than this season being busier than normal), and then I realized how often she has come to my mind recently. For some reason, everything about Christmas makes me think of her. This year it started when I decorated our tree. I kept having flashbacks to decorating our tree the Christmas I was pregnant with her. I remember it so clearly. The Sound of Music live musical (with Carrie Underwood!!) was on TV (back when we still had cable...), I was sipping on hot chocolate and had a belly in between me and the tree, making it a bit harder to manoeuvre around the tree.

That Christmas was especially full of hope for me. I've wanted to be a mom for as long as I can remember. I was so excited and kept thinking about how the following year, we'd have an 8 month old baby in our arms. It felt surreal. But as I decorated our tree, I kept feeling our baby girl move inside of me, almost as if she was full of anticipation too.

And then the excitement, anticipation, joy - all of it was gone.

Christmas 2014 was one of the darkest places I have ever been in. To say I was "weary" would be an understatement. That year, we didn't even get a tree. I did very minimal decorating, and found it very difficult to bring myself to do any of our Christmas traditions. Our arms were empty, and even though my belly was full, I just wanted my biggest girl to be with us.

The one hope I was able to hold onto, was my faith. As much as it had been tested and as many times as I questioned God and his Sovereignty, I knew with certainty that He sent His only son to die for my sins. More importantly to me, He sent His only Son so that my daughter did not have to die, but could have eternal life with Him.

The past two years, we sponsored a family through CCAS with a child Brooklyn's age. This year, our new church does a toy drive, so we bought a toy for a child Brooklyn's age. Things like this help heal my heart. I so look forward to the day when Aubrey and Aveline can pick out the toy themselves.

"A thrill of Hope, the weary world rejoices!" On a quiet night, a baby was born in a stable, with no medical intervention or equipment, to a mother and father who were very unprepared for Him. He is the ultimate provider of hope and restoration.

Please remember that Christmas isn't a joyful season for everybody. Many people are grieving, some people struggling to put food on their table, pay their hydro bill, don't know how they will provide their children with presents, or simply don't have any family members or close friends to spend Christmas with. Please be kind. Please slow down and don't let the busyness of this season weigh on you. If you're blessed enough to have children, please enjoy each and every moment you have with them this season and try not to take their life for granted. Unplug if you need to. If that helps you to be intentional with the people around you this season. Be kind. Help someone at the grocery store, do a random act of kindness, drop off some baking at your local hospital.

If you are someone who is struggling in this season, know that it's okay to celebrate as much or as little as you need to. Be gentle on yourself, and do what you need to in order to survive listening to "it's the most wonderful time of the year" and other lyrics that can be equally as annoying when you don't feel that way.

"For yonder breaks, a new and glorious morn!"

Hold Them Close

The other night as I was nursing Aveline before bed, I decided to intentionally connect with her instead of mindlessly scrolling through the internet like I normally do. While I looked down at her sweet face, I got a flashback to holding Brooklyn in the hospital. All of our girls look very similar, but Brooklyn and Aveline are especially alike.  Sometimes it makes me happy to know that seeing Aveline grow up is probably what it would be like to watch Brooklyn grow up, and other times it makes my heart physically ache for Brooklyn.

After I delivered Brooklyn, we spent 24hrs in the hospital with her. She was born at 1:20pm, and for some reason, I just felt like I needed to be with her until 1:20pm the next day. If I didn't get a lifetime with her, I needed to have a full day. It ended up being more like 2:30pm, because this would be the hardest thing I had ever done. The moments leading up to leaving her at the hospital, I held her in the bed, and intentionally studied her face. I kissed her a lot. Still today, I can feel exactly what my lips felt like on her cold face. I hope that feeling never goes away.

I realized a couple of weeks ago that as of October 5th, Brooklyn would have been 2.5 years old. Some days it feels like a life time ago that we had her, and others it feels like just yesterday. We have lived quite a lot of life in those 2.5 years including moving, a job change for Derek, and adding two more sweet girls to our family. So much has changed, but still, missing Brooklyn has remained a constant.

In the beginning days of losing her, people were so supportive and loved on us to help us through the unimaginable. But as the months went on, I felt a lot of pressure to "move on" with life. On top of the intense grief and longing for my daughter, I had lots of feelings of guilt for not being able to just move past this loss. Many days I would just pray for the grief to pass. Not wanting to fully sit and soak in the intensity of the feelings. I longed for life to be normal again. But after a while, I realized that life would never be the same. And that I was forever changed by this great loss. The loss of the daughter I carried and held, but would never take home. A daughter I would miss out on all of the "firsts" with. A daughter I would never see grow up into a beautiful strong woman.

If you were around at all when Aubrey was young, you know just how much I struggled. Aubrey was a baby who cried a lot and wanted to be held all the time. On top of that, I was so scared of losing her too, that I carried lots of fear with me. As you can imagine, this created quite a mixture of chaos in the first few months of her life. Eventually this stage passed, and we moved on to different challenges as she is quite a busy girl. I must mention that we love her dearly, and this type A personality is learning to embrace Aubrey for who God created her to be. I'm learning to let go of trying to make her fit into the mould I've created for her, and instead create space for her to be the wonderful little firecracker that she is. This is much easier said than done some days.

When we were expecting Aveline, I just assumed that she would have a similar personality to Aubs. I pictured having a 17m old and a newborn that would cry a lot and want to be held all the time. Aveline is such an easy going, sweet girl. She is so smiley, and loves to just look around and take in everything this world has to offer. I'm also much more comfortable this time around, and the fear and anxiety I carried in the beginning of Aubrey's life is much less. I find myself actually being able to enjoy her and my arms longing for snuggles instead of wanting to put her down at the first chance I get.

When you have a child who dies, you realize that our children are not promised to us for any length of time. As hard and terrible as it is to think of, there are no guarantees that we will outlive our children. Obviously this is not something to dwell on, but understanding this has made me want to be more intentional with my kids. It's so easy to get caught up in checking my phone constantly and not giving my kids one on one attention, or being short and impatient with Aubrey because I just don't feel like I have the energy to talk things through with her. I need to remember to make the days count. 

Now that Avy is interacting more with people and the world around her, it has been so cool to see her relationship with Aubs. She lights up when she sees Aubrey or hears her voice. I can't wait to continue to see this special sister friendship grow. I'm sure there will be arguments along the way (as there are with sisters), but I want to teach these girls just how blessed they are to have a forever friend. Someone who they can count on to love them always.

I consider all three of my girls such a blessing to me. All of them have taught me so much about myself, this world, and even about who God is. But I am especially thankful that Aveline's sweet personality has brought me to a place where holding my kids feels more like a joy and less like a burden.

Aubrey has started calling me "mom" a lot now (totally makes my mama heart ache), and Aveline is growing so fast and so not a little tiny newborn anymore. 

Hold them close. They're only little for so long.

A Third Little Miracle

Eight weeks ago today, we were blessed with the safe arrival of our third daughter - Aveline Quinn.

July 17th was my set induction date. That morning at 6:30am, I called the hospital to see if we could come in. With Aubrey, I called in the morning and they weren't ready for me. I kind of just expected it would be the same way, and left my vacuuming for the morning. To my surprise, they told me to have a shower and some breakfast, and head in to the hospital. My floors would remain dirty until we got home from the hospital...

By the time they got the IV fluids and oxytocin, it was 10am. With Aubrey, I was stuck in bed on the monitors the entire time, but this time they let me walk around the hospital until I was in active labour. This made things so much better and less painful in the beginning for me!

Active labour didn't start until around 12:30pm. This was the point where I was struggling to talk through contractions, and walking was getting harder. Contractions were coming every 2 minutes.

At 1:15pm, my OB broke my water to try to get things moving faster. She checked me and I was only 4cm dilated. This was discouraging as I was already 3cm dilated the Thursday before when she checked me in clinic. Around 3:15pm, things were getting really intense. I had decided to not go in with a plan for the epidural. I had gotten it during my previous two labours, but wanted to try to go without. At 3:15, I decided to see if they would check me again. I told myself that if I was 7cm or more, I would keep going without the epidural. Unfortunately I was still 4cm. My cervix had thinned and softened but I was still 4cm. I asked for the epidural.

I'm glad that I did, because I didn't fully dilate until 2:10am on the 18th...

Backing up a bit - by 11:40pm I was 8cm and came to the conclusion that Aveline wasn't coming until the next day.

Derek and I spent the evening trying to narrow down baby names, as we still hadn't decided on a name for this lady. This was so very different than with Brooklyn and Aubrey who were named shortly after the anatomy scan when we found out they were girls.

Around 12:20am, I started feeling a bit of pressure, but not enough to push. At 2:10am, the nurse came in to empty my bladder with the catheter and said "do you feel any pressure, because your baby's head is RIGHT here. She has lots of hair!" She quickly called for the OB to come, and my midwife quickly got into her scrubs too. This baby was coming fast.

I hadn't been pushing very long and the nurse said "your baby is right here, a few more pushes and she will be out." "Do you promise?" I said. I didn't believe her and thought she was just trying to encourage me. With Brooklyn and Aubrey, I pushed for 20 minutes. I thought given my track record, it would be the same this time around. Avy had other plans... They told me to stop pushing, and I heard a loud "pop" (sorry for the graphic description), and Avy came out. She literally pushed herself out the rest of the way.

The induction took quite a while but once Avy, decided she was coming, she came very quickly.

8 minutes after the nurse saw her head, out sweet Aveline Quinn was in my arms.

When Aubrey was born, her cord was too short for her to go right on my chest. This time, Aveline was able to come right on me after they let me pull her up as she was coming into the world.

I will never ever forget that moment. The first thing I said to her was "You look like Aubrey!" And then I cried. A lot.

The whole labour and birth process this time around was so relaxed compared to the previous two. I felt so much less anxious, and felt nothing but joy when she was born. I felt a little disconnected when Aubrey came out (for many reasons), and will always feel guilty for that. This time, no guilty - just joy. I can't say enough how great this third labour experience was for me. The delivery I have always wanted.

Much to our surprise, she was a whopping 7lbs 11oz and 20inches long at just 37+4! I don't want to know how big she would have been at 40+ weeks... She was also the exact same weight and height as me when I was born! And it seems we make very consistently size babies at 7lbs 12oz, 7lbs 9oz and 7lbs 11oz.

So far Aveline has been such an easy going baby. We are so thankful for that because she entered an already very busy household!

When Avy was 3 weeks old, we spent 4 days in the hospital as she was diagnosed with a viral infection. This was a really scary time for our family, and brought up a lot of emotions for me. When you've lost a child before, and another one gets very sick, it's very scary. Scary for any parent, I'm sure, but it forced me to go through some emotions I hadn't in a while.

I continue to think of Brooklyn often. It's hard because there are many times I think about her, or want to talk about her. Sometimes I feel like if I do bring her up, other people will think I'm dwelling on the past or haven't dealt with things. The truth is, talking about her helps me process and heal.

When we sing songs about Heaven in church, I always get a little teary-eyed (sometimes I even full out cry.) Heaven was always going to be such an amazing place, but somehow has been made even sweeter knowing I have a little girl who is there to show me around. I often picture what that reunion will be like. Will she look like a baby still or a big girl? Will I recognize her? Will she recognize me? Will she call me "mama" or "mommy" or "mom" (Aubrey has just started doing this and it hurts my heart to be mom and not mommy!!!). So many questions, and while I don't want to rush it, I so look forward to that day.

Two babies under 18 months has kept me very busy. But it's not as chaotic as I envisioned. I'm actually quite proud of myself for the little routines we've established to make our household run smoother. And I'm so very thankful for the amazing husband I have, who has picked up where I have fallen short. Especially with Aubrey. Since I'm nursing Avy, often times Aubrey gets my leftover attention. There's a lot of guilt that comes with that, but her and Derek have become even closer than they were before, and it makes my heart so happy to see their relationship.

Avy fits into our family so very well, and I really can't remember our lives without her. I so look forward to watching her grow into her own little person, and especially watching her and Aubrey grow up together.

Undeserving

This past weekend, I spoke at a women’s retreat called Soaked in Truth. It was my first weekend away from Aubs, and although I was speaking and came home exhausted, I felt refreshed and renewed. It was wonderful to be a part of a weekend where women came together, and were honest in their life struggles. No sugar-coating, no bible-thumping, just real authentic women saying “sometimes, life sucks, and you need to walk through the fire.”

This week, I have been feeling convicted about living authentically and what that looks like. I thought I was doing a good job at being real with the struggles motherhood has brought me, but when I scrolled through my Instagram account, I realized that things look pretty great from the outside.

Don’t get me wrong, things are pretty great in my life. I love being a mama. It’s the only thing (besides being a wife) I’ve consistently wanted to be for as long as I can remember. But I think as mothers, sometimes we struggle with sharing just how hard being a mom can be. Day after day, trying to raise little people to become adults who will make a difference in this world, love the Lord, and not screw them up. Not to mention the food/milk splatter, time outs, and trying to stay consistent with discipline in between.

Tonight I was having a particularly hard night. I was trying to vacuum before Aubrey’s bath time, and Aubrey was not being cooperative. Running away and getting into trouble every chance she got. I had to stop what I was doing, and redirect every 30 seconds. Now that I’m typing it out, it seems really silly. There are many parents who are dealing with things much more difficult than having their vacuuming interrupted. But this particular time ended in me losing my patience with Aubrey, and resulted in her crying because of me (both because I had run out of patience, and because she wasn’t getting her way). After the fact, I was so sad that I couldn’t even handle vacuuming and watching one child. My mind started swirling with thoughts like “how am I going to handle this in 4 weeks time
when there is a newborn, a toddler, and still things to do around the house?” “Am I a terrible mom for losing my patience?”

And then the guilt set in. I know it’s normal for moms to lose their patience, but this particular time, I felt especially guilty.

After putting Aubrey to bed, I just kept thinking about how undeserving of her I am. Why was I given the privilege of raising her, and loving her, when there are so many people who seem so much more deserving than me?

Then I thought about my weekend away. Part of my talk was on trusting God. And trusting Him, means He knows what He’s doing. I shared with the women how our children are a gift, no matter how much or little time we have with them.

Aubrey is my gift. I don’t deserve her, but God trusts me with her. This reality is very daunting, and also so incredibly gracious of Him.

A little while after she fell asleep, I went upstairs to put her blanket on her that she had kicked off. I touched her back, and felt so strongly that I needed to pray over her. If you know me at all, prayer is not my strength or something that comes naturally to me, so this was a pretty big deal for me. I prayed that God would protect her, and that He would give me the tools I need to be the best mama to her.

I hope and pray that as moms, we can lift each other up and encourage each other as we do the hardest job we will ever do. I pray that that we will be authentic in our struggles, and that we remember our children are gifts.