What was it like?

"Just look into the camera when you're ready."  
I had been over the dialog a thousand times in my head. I knew what I held in my heart to say. Suddenly all of the words blurred together and it was as though my mouth couldn't work. Which, if you know me, is completely unlike me!  
Inwardly, I prayed.  
'God, speak what needs to be spoken. Help. I can't do this with so much swirling around my mind.' 
Thoughts spun around hurtful events that had taken place over the last couple of weeks. It was a certain attack from the enemy. Pain as I was desperately seeking words for pain. 
Here I sat, perhaps one of the most important events of my lifetime, unable to release the message in me. I searched for answers as I stared into the fibers of the carpeting. 


"I'm having trouble putting this into words." 
"Just tell us what it was like losing your babies." 

What was it like? My heart palpitated. Flashes of gore replayed through my mind. Physical pain, emotional pain, and confusion passed through my heart, remembering those fateful moments when I knew another child had died and was leaving my body. I saw Niklas in my arms, lifeless and still. I remembered the silence. the stillness of the birthing room. Visuals of the dim-lit birthing bed waiting for me. No life in that room, only death. Suddenly, the emotions flooded my heart... and words began spilling through tears. 
What was it like? It was like being shredded in a way I'd never been ripped apart before. It was like torture. Being forced to participate in confirming a life ended that you wanted to continue. Pain. Physical, emotional, and spiritual pain and confusion. I wanted no drugs. I wanted to feel every ounce of physical pain. I needed something to push against in the middle of my emotional pain.   
Tears continued. I stared intensely into the camera lens. I wanted to crawl into it, cover up, curl into a ball and hide from the world for just a second.

I worried that they wouldn't be able to capture the words through my blubbering, and yet a part of me didn't care. I needed to say whatever it was that ended up being said. 

1 in 4 women experience pregnancy loss and stillbirth. The tears streaming down my face weren't just for me... they were for my sisters and brothers forced to walk this road in their lives too. They were for my dear friends who sat in the next room who were sharing their stories.  They were for every person on the planet who has been forced to say goodbye to their sweet child before they could say hello. Planned or unplanned, early loss or full-term... it makes no difference. Pain is pain... loss is loss... and your grief is your grief. If you know me well, you know that I feel deeply. Likely I feel more deeply than the average person. The stories of the hurting ache my heart and light a fire to continue to create and put to words pain for those who are not bent this way. The song, Before We Said Hello, I pray, opens a door for us all to heal and begin an open conversation as we traverse a path that non of us would have chosen and none of us want to be on.  

I thank God for the gift of dear friends and family who come to communicate and share their losses with the world for the benefit of others.

I thank God for a sister that has walked closely with me through this entire journey. She has loved me in my darkest hours. She is that person who takes me for a pedicure to ease the difficulty I face during this time of my life and allows me just to sit silently.

I am grateful for a daughter who sobs with me and gets the sorrow of the moment.

I am grateful for my precious husband... my best friend... who knows me, understands my deep feeling heart- and loves it. I am thankful He is the one God chose for me to walk these roads with.


I am most grateful for a God who never fails. Who loves me regardless of my pain, questions and failings. He is my greatest treasure and highest dream.