~Shiloh~
My blog has sat very quiet the last few months, but that has not meant
my life has been quiet. Far from it actually. While the start was
filled with expectation and joy the last few weeks have been a mix of
sorrow and questions - yet through it all, my hope has rested sure on
the one thing that never changes - my God. Through every moment, every
emotion, I have experienced His presence in being the constant peace
in the midst of the changing circumstances in my life.
Three and a half weeks ago, Nathan and I found out that we had lost
our fourth baby. At the time I found out I was around eleven and a
half weeks along, but we discovered that our little baby's heart had
stopped around nine weeks. We were heartbroken.
All the hopes we had for this little one... all the curious
questions...Boy? Girl? Blue eyes? Brown? Our first with curls like
mommy?...Our little pumpkin baby who was due at the end of October.
Was this really happening? My body didn't seem to think so, after all
it was still clinging to the hope of a life within...surely it was
just a bad dream. But there it was written on the ultrasound
technician's face even though I didn't get the official news until
thirty minutes later from one of my midwives. "It appears you have
indeed miscarried." I knew before she said the words. I knew that
whole awful drive home, but hearing the words? It was so final.
The last few weeks have been full. We experienced more than the loss
of our child. I experienced extreme complications from the miscarriage
- perhaps someday I'll have courage enough to write about all that
transpired here...it is quite personal and very traumatic - and I am
still recovering from those complications that left my body weak and
my mind a mess of distrust and disbelief and anger. But more than the
ugliness of that experience, the last few weeks have been full of
sweetness amidst sorrow, full of love, full of hope. My family
surrounded me - even my Grandma was able to fly in from Minnesota to
support me for a week. These weeks have been full of a community of
women who championed around me to support me with prayer, with hugs,
with tears cried with me, mutual stories of loss shared with me, and
meals sent each night. Oh, the food! What a blessing that I have not
had to think of making dinner for my family in weeks on top of my
emotional and physical recovery. If you are one of those dear ones who
has blessed our family in such an amazing way, thank you. Thank you,
thank you!
God has made His sovereignty known throughout this entire process. His
nearness has been the sweetness in the midst of my sorrow and the hope
I have each morning even though the reality of the situation wants to
send me into a spiral of despair. His comfort has been displayed
through the laughter of my children around me, the hugs of dear
friends, and seeing the depth of my husband's love for me in new ways.
I was fortunate to see and keep the baby that we lost after I
miscarried. God's handiwork is amazing and life is a miracle! This was
my baby in the same way that each of my other children were my babies.
The only difference is my boys live today - this one didn't have the
chance outside of my womb.
Today, my husband and I buried our little Shiloh. My body shook with
sobs as I watched my husband dig a hole in the ground. "No father
should have to do this", I kept thinking to myself. When the work was
complete I stood near him. We prayed together as I held the box we had
painted together to house our little baby. Our hearts poured out to
our own Daddy - all of our hurt, our broken dreams, our trust that He
would help us make sense of this someday in His time. Praising Him for
His goodness to us even in this deepest moment of grief. I dropped
soft earth on the little box and slowly watched it disappear from my
sight. It was so hard to say goodbye. It is so hard to say goodbye. Am
I still dreaming? Can I wake up now?
My husband held me as I cried a while more and then, peace.
That's what Shiloh means. Peace. Even in this horrible thing...peace
that passes understanding. My eyes won't stay locked on this sorrow,
but on Him. The One who now holds my little one. The One who is
holding me. The One who fills me with peace as I look to Him to meet
me in every moment, in every wave of emotion that comes my way.
You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he
trusts in you. ~ Isaiah 26:3
my life has been quiet. Far from it actually. While the start was
filled with expectation and joy the last few weeks have been a mix of
sorrow and questions - yet through it all, my hope has rested sure on
the one thing that never changes - my God. Through every moment, every
emotion, I have experienced His presence in being the constant peace
in the midst of the changing circumstances in my life.
Three and a half weeks ago, Nathan and I found out that we had lost
our fourth baby. At the time I found out I was around eleven and a
half weeks along, but we discovered that our little baby's heart had
stopped around nine weeks. We were heartbroken.
All the hopes we had for this little one... all the curious
questions...Boy? Girl? Blue eyes? Brown? Our first with curls like
mommy?...Our little pumpkin baby who was due at the end of October.
Was this really happening? My body didn't seem to think so, after all
it was still clinging to the hope of a life within...surely it was
just a bad dream. But there it was written on the ultrasound
technician's face even though I didn't get the official news until
thirty minutes later from one of my midwives. "It appears you have
indeed miscarried." I knew before she said the words. I knew that
whole awful drive home, but hearing the words? It was so final.
The last few weeks have been full. We experienced more than the loss
of our child. I experienced extreme complications from the miscarriage
- perhaps someday I'll have courage enough to write about all that
transpired here...it is quite personal and very traumatic - and I am
still recovering from those complications that left my body weak and
my mind a mess of distrust and disbelief and anger. But more than the
ugliness of that experience, the last few weeks have been full of
sweetness amidst sorrow, full of love, full of hope. My family
surrounded me - even my Grandma was able to fly in from Minnesota to
support me for a week. These weeks have been full of a community of
women who championed around me to support me with prayer, with hugs,
with tears cried with me, mutual stories of loss shared with me, and
meals sent each night. Oh, the food! What a blessing that I have not
had to think of making dinner for my family in weeks on top of my
emotional and physical recovery. If you are one of those dear ones who
has blessed our family in such an amazing way, thank you. Thank you,
thank you!
God has made His sovereignty known throughout this entire process. His
nearness has been the sweetness in the midst of my sorrow and the hope
I have each morning even though the reality of the situation wants to
send me into a spiral of despair. His comfort has been displayed
through the laughter of my children around me, the hugs of dear
friends, and seeing the depth of my husband's love for me in new ways.
I was fortunate to see and keep the baby that we lost after I
miscarried. God's handiwork is amazing and life is a miracle! This was
my baby in the same way that each of my other children were my babies.
The only difference is my boys live today - this one didn't have the
chance outside of my womb.
Today, my husband and I buried our little Shiloh. My body shook with
sobs as I watched my husband dig a hole in the ground. "No father
should have to do this", I kept thinking to myself. When the work was
complete I stood near him. We prayed together as I held the box we had
painted together to house our little baby. Our hearts poured out to
our own Daddy - all of our hurt, our broken dreams, our trust that He
would help us make sense of this someday in His time. Praising Him for
His goodness to us even in this deepest moment of grief. I dropped
soft earth on the little box and slowly watched it disappear from my
sight. It was so hard to say goodbye. It is so hard to say goodbye. Am
I still dreaming? Can I wake up now?
My husband held me as I cried a while more and then, peace.
That's what Shiloh means. Peace. Even in this horrible thing...peace
that passes understanding. My eyes won't stay locked on this sorrow,
but on Him. The One who now holds my little one. The One who is
holding me. The One who fills me with peace as I look to Him to meet
me in every moment, in every wave of emotion that comes my way.
You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he
trusts in you. ~ Isaiah 26:3
Thank you for sharing your story! Wish I were there to give you a big hug! Sending love to you and your family!
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