It's been 6 months since I've written.  All my eloquent memories have been penned already.  Everything I have left to say is ugly, unspeakable.  I began to share our news of a new pregnancy in January, but before we had the chance the dirt of a shallow grave was beneath my fingernails.  We lost another baby.  Around 10 weeks, this time in horrific fashion.  Rather than running to the hospital we laid this little one to rest beside Amelia's tree.  We barely whispered a prayer before we turned to go inside. I despise how jaded I've become.  I tell myself it's strength.  Independence.  Tough as nails!  But I am really just numb from life's punches.


We told very few people about our loss earlier this year.  At this point I just feel pathetic.  I have 5 children.  FIVE! But only 1 shares a bed with me on stormy nights.  I can't explain it to my friends.  I can't justify trying again... just one more time... for another little one. What are they supposed to say when they look at me?  Do they even understand how empty my arms feel?  Do they know that I'm not as broken as I seem?  Surely they think I'm stupid.

I want to tell them about the doctors I've seen, the tests I've had, the sins I've confessed.  I want them to know we TRY really hard.  We do everything right.  But I fear only my desperation is heard.  They just see my broken heart.

I imagine the bleeding woman described in the book of Mark felt like this.  For 12 years she was plagued by an unexplained condition.  She was lonely.  Misunderstood.  Separated.  She saw the doctors.  She tried the treatments.  She did everything right.  But it didn't work.  She had faith, but it didn't work.  This woman felt so pathetic, so ashamed that she couldn't even ask the healer she believed in for help.  Instead she brushed his cloak as he walked by.  She was healed before he even turned around.  He didn't reveal to her the reason for her suffering.  He didn't prescribe something to mask her pain.  He didn't explain her condition so she'd have a clear understanding.  He simply healed her.  By faith. And told her to suffer no more.

I want to tell my friends every detail of why we have lost so many babies, but the truth is I don't understand it one bit.  I want to have an answer.  A guarantee that when (please God, WHEN!) we are blessed with another pregnancy I will feel safe.  But that's not Jesus.  His answer is the simplest.  Faith.  Grace for our sins and faith for our souls.  The bleeding woman had faith while she was still bleeding.  I have faith while the dirt of grave sites is still fresh under my nails.  I have faith that Jesus holds Amelia and faith that some day, hopefully soon, I will hold a baby again.

Amelia Grace