Scripture is in bold. 1 As a deer pants for flowing streams, so pants my soul for you, O God.  2 My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When shall I come and appear before God?  The psalmist is in a spiritual drought, crying out to God. 3 My tears have been my food day and night, while they say to me all the day long, "Where is your God?"  His tears mock him; his sorrow... Continue Reading →

It has been said that joy and pain are capable of coexisting. But I think it should also be said that while experiencing joy with the pain of loss, there is often also a third emotion of guilt. Guilt over the fact that even though they aren’t here, you are enjoying something. Guilt that even... Continue Reading →

I wake up. Stretch. Glance over at my dog. She’s curled up in a ball that makes her look even more tiny than she is. I pick her up and she growls just a bit. How dare I disturb the princess! But as I nestle her in my arms she curls up and closes her... Continue Reading →

Fidgeting with my necklace again. I really ought to stop. I'd hate to tarnish it. They say the best way to care for your jewelry is to keep it clean, which means to not touch it much I guess. And since this is my special Mother's Day necklace, I'd hate to ruin it. Right? I... Continue Reading →

Even after so many months, so many prayers, so many tears, there are still some things that weigh heavy on my heart. Things I don't understand or can't quite move past. In the past couple of weeks, God has graciously lifted two of those burdens off of my hurting heart. Was it worth it? I asked... Continue Reading →

There is a photo hanging in our hallway. It's of my husband and I on my birthday, two days before one of the happiest days of our lives. Two days before we found out that I was pregnant. And a few short weeks before we knew any level of grief. Sitting in that picture, I... Continue Reading →

That phrase probably doesn't make sense, but I've come to say it and think it so often that it seems perfectly natural to me. It was made up during a conversation with my mom. I don't even remember the specifics of the conversation, or how it got started; I just remember talking about the things... Continue Reading →

There are a lot of definitions of "Empty Arms Syndrome". My definition is this: Empty Arms Syndrome is the feeling you feel when instead of bringing home a healthy baby from the hospital, you're bringing home a pamphlet about what to do if you're struggling with miscarriages. Instead of getting up at night to nurse... Continue Reading →