Don’t rank losses. My husband and I were recently asked to co-facilitate at a grief support group called Grief Share. We are joining another couple from our church who have been facilitating groups for several years. Grief Share is for anyone who has lost a loved one. I will be sharing some of the encouragements from this support group. During the meeting we remind those attending of our discussion guidelines and one of them is “don’t rank losses”. This one rang so true in my heart. Often I have discounted my pregnancy losses because they were all in the first trimester. I discounted them because there are so many precious mamas who have had still births or babies who only lived hours or days or weeks or months. I have discounted them because I have living children but so many precious mamas do not have living children or they have not been able to get pregnant. My list of reasons can go on but another thing I realized is that I don’t give myself the same grace I extend to others. When a mama cannot get pregnant, or loses a baby at any stage my heart totally breaks for them and I am not ranking there loss at all. So, hearing this reminder in the meeting “don’t rank losses” was a balm to my heart and a precious reminder. Ladies, we are all mothers, even if we have never been pregnant. The love and longing and desire for children that God put in our hearts makes us mothers. We are in this together, no judgement, no ranking, supporting one another in the heart break we have each lived. When I ponder all this it brings to my this bible verse: “…weep with those who weep.” (Romans 12:15). Everyone’s grief is different, comparison does not have a place. As we love and support one another, we will weep with those who weep. Praying for you mamas,

So many people want to know how they can support someone dear to them who has lost a baby. There are so many things you should NOT do such as avoiding that person or avoiding the subject. Be at peace, you do not have to have any answers, you do not have to try to fix anything, you simply need to love them. Loving them can be shown in different ways but one of the most loving things you can do is “just show up”. Show up in their lives, be available to listen, sit with them in the pain, stay close to them and ask about their baby.

And after days, months and even years pass by, remember their heavenly baby with them. There is not a lot you need to say, showing up speaks volumes reminding them they are not alone and they are loved and their baby will never be forgotten. Thank you to all the dear friends in my life who showed up and loved me.

“Wave of Light”: Three things to dwell on during the candlelight hour

Each year on October 15th I have lit my candle at 7pm and sparked a light in my heart. A simple candle on my table that represents the bright light of Grayson’s life. His life, though short, has left an everlasting impact on my life. His life brought joy, sadness, anger, compassion, trust, understanding, peace, and most of all love. This year I want my hour to be full of purpose. I have decided to have three specific things I am hoping to put my mind and heart on for the 60 minutes of candlelight. I hope through focused dwelling during this time will help me to be quicker to think on these things throughout my daily activities.

Dear Loss Mamas,

In honor of all loss mamas & of Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Month I would like to give this gift print "I love to hear your name.....". A personalized 5x7 digital file you can print at any local photo lab. I know how you all love to hear your child's name spoken. So how does it work? If you would allow me to add your email to my mailing list I will email your personalized file. All I need from you is your email address & your child's name. If you want more than 1 name on your print that is fine, please give me all the names. If you would like this gift you can email me at hello@abeautifulremembrance.com.

Love & Prayers,

Lisa ❤

How can I really enjoy my living children when one of my children is no longer with me? This is a question that seems to torment so many loss moms. There is so much heartbreak in mom’s hearts trying to carry on with life after a loss and what that looks like with their living children. Some moms fear that if they enjoy their living children it will discount the life of the little one they lost. I want to encourage you, this is not so. Your child will never be forgotten and you play a big part in keeping their memory alive, especially with your living children. I realize some moms are hurting so much they feel depressed and not able to parent the way they would under normal circumstances. I want to encourage you too, all your children are a gift even if they were only with you a short time. Parenting your living children and enjoying them is part of the healing process for you and it does not mean you are forgetting your heavenly children.

Lexi understands the roller coaster of emotions of losing a baby and parenting living children. She describes Grayson (her son who only lived 12 hours) as woven into the fabric of their family and life and he remains a very real part of their family even though he is no longer with them. Here is a snippet of Lexi as a Mom this Fall season as she enjoys her girls and includes Grayson in it all. I pray this will be an encouragement to you.

It's that time of year again.... but then again, isn’t it always that time… with every change of season, with every holiday, milestone, occasion, and celebration there are new trials that a bereaved parent must walk through. These occasions glorify happy, whole families and can magnify what is missing in yours. As we approach August and the start of school, I prepare my heart for a slew of “first day of school” photos. Grayson would be nearing age four at this point, so the start of the school year is having more sting than it used to. The first two years, I don’t think I even noticed it. But last year, as I saw my friends’ children the same age having their “first day of preschool” photos my heart shook. It was a new wave of things I was missing. Picking out a backpack and thermos, talking through how to make new friends and be kind to everyone, these teaching moments and conversations all passed me by as I saw others carry them out with joy and love. My heart ached to hold Grayson.

I knew last year, as I do this year, that I have two beautiful daughters that I do get to hold, and look forward to doing those things. Last year I scooped up Aurelia and just cherished her. But I knew she couldn’t fulfill the ache in my heart. I know this year as I scroll through the photos that no matter how full my arms are with my living children, the ache of losing Grayson can be comforted by God alone.

My name is Lexi and I am a proud mama to three babes. Grayson, Aurelia, and Aurora. My son, my firstborn Grayson is not here with me… he is held by God in perfect form in heaven. I rejoice in this reality daily; I also mourn each moment that I do not carry him myself. Grayson was born November 2015. After we delivered him, the medical staff discovered a serious heart defect. He was airlifted to LA for surgery. After two procedures through the night, Grayson died. His heart wasn’t strong enough. Our hearts were shattered. In an instant… my world was gone. I couldn’t believe what had happened, not 24 hours earlier he was kicking in my belly, and now he lay lifeless.

I had to have an emergency c-section, so I couldn’t be transported. It was days before I got to see and hold his still and lifeless body. As I anticipated that moment, I was so unsure. I had a million questions for God. Why would he allow me to carry this precious boy only to take him hours after birth? Why is death required of such an “innocent” life? Was this a consequence of something I had done? Am I meant to be a mother?

My heart’s desire in owning this little shop A Beautiful Remembrance is to bring some comfort to hurting mamas (& their families). Even if you have not visited my shop before I would love to pray for you. I know that some days are so hard to get through that it feels like too much to bear. I know that some days you feel like you can hardly function. I know that some days you act “as if” you are doing fine but you are dying inside. I know somedays you are simply numb. I know some days you are angry and can’t make sense of anything. When you are having those days can I pray for you? I really mean it. Please reach out to me through Instagram or Facebook or send me an e-mail. I would love to pray for you. You don’t have to give me details but you can if you want to. You can just say “Lisa, can you please pray for me today?” or you can pour your heart out if you want to.

How do you throw a birthday party for a dead person? Seems like a morbid question, but nonetheless, it is the question that has been forefront in my mind over the last few weeks. My daughter’s birthday is coming up on May 17, but because she was stillborn, that day is also her official death day. No one tells you that there is no category for such things in your brain; it’s very difficult to process and cope with the fact that the only significant date you have for your daughter is fraught with the worst memories imaginable. I want to celebrate her with our friends and family, but how do you celebrate someone that most of them never knew or even glimpsed? I want to have a birthday party, but it won’t necessarily be a happy one. How do you invite people to such an event?

This past Sunday was Easter, and I have always loved celebrating this holiday! Growing up, we went to the Sunrise Service in our brand new Easter dresses, and we would have the most wonderful, uplifting, happy service celebrating the Resurrection of Jesus. After church, my family would make a huge Easter lunch and we would have a family egg hunt at my grandma’s house. It always felt like the happiest day of the year, even better than Christmas! I have heard countless Easter sermons, and many of them have focused on the truth of the Resurrection. Did Jesus really rise from the dead? How can we be sure? How can we answer the people who say it’s not true? Since the Resurrection is true, how can we live differently? In the past, these sermons would cause me to turn inward, asking myself if I truly believed in the Resurrection and if I had doubts about its validity. If I felt like I had any doubts, I would pray for God to give me stronger faith and help me to firmly believe in His Word.

Since the death of my daughter, Easter has become so much more beautiful to me. Easter is the holiday that gives me hope about my daughter’s existence and new life. Easter is everything to me! Now when I hear those sermons, and the preacher asks, “Do you really believe this?”, I can answer a resounding YES! That question is no longer cerebral, something I can mull over and contemplate the rest of the week. That question is personal; it is the question that decides how you will deal with grief. When you have faced death head-on, the truth of the Resurrection is the only question that matters. If the Resurrection didn’t happen, and Jesus didn’t defeat death, then we have no hope at all. There is no reason to believe I will see my daughter again, and ultimately, there is no reason to keep living.

Today, I got the news that a friend had lost her baby at birth. Even though it’s been almost four years since losing Hope, and even though I have heard of so many sweet babies passing away, my heart breaks anew each time I hear those words. Every time, my brain scrambles for the words to pray, and my soul aches with the pain I know the family is experiencing. I try to pray for comfort for them, but I know that they can’t and won’t be comforted for months (if not years). I try to pray for God to hold them, but I know that their faith is being tested like never before. I know that He is with them, but they may not feel His presence in the midst of such great pain. I pray for the mother as she has to tell her other children that the baby has passed away; having to walk your living children through grief is so difficult when all you want to do is hide and process your own sorrow. I pray for the father as he has to make funeral arrangements and decide between cremation and burial; no parent ever dreams that they will be making that choice for their child.

Grief is such a tricky thing. It’s always in the back of my mind, which is fine because that means that Hope, Jonah, and January are always in my mind too. But sometimes, unexpected moments can trigger grief to come roaring back to the surface. Those moments catch me off-guard because they usually come with no warning. This past Saturday, I was scrolling through my Facebook feed, when I saw several cute videos of a dance recital: a perfectly normal, adorable dance recital with several 3 year old girls in fluffy tutus and big bows. Now, I have seen many videos of children dancing or performing in the years since Hope died, so why was this one special? These little girls were from my hometown, and I knew that they were born right around the same time as Hope. I remember crying when I saw their birth announcements, wishing that Hope could be alive like them. So to see them all together, dancing and twirling for their proud parents, absolutely broke my heart in two.

Lately, I have seen many women posting pictures of their postpartum bellies to help break the stigma of not having a perfectly flat tummy after pregnancy. I love seeing all the real life pictures, and I love that we are trying to normalize postpartum bodies. I have deeply struggled with loving my new body because of diastasis recti and lots of baggy skin on my stomach. When I carry a baby, my stomach looks like I have swallowed a watermelon; this is not an exaggeration (I have pictures to prove it!). And my body did that three times, so you can imagine the disaster that is my abdominal wall. When I look at myself, I wish I could see a flat stomach, or even a bellybutton for that matter! I constantly compare my body to women around me who seem to bounce right back to a perfect, bikini-ready stomach. It’s a constant struggle, and it’s one that I wish would disappear.

I have to be honest with y’all – I’m not a huge fan of New Year’s Resolutions. I can’t really pinpoint why they do not appeal to me, but I think that going through loss and suffering has made me wary of things that promise happiness, fulfillment, etc. I know firsthand that even if you make all the right choices and fulfill all your goals, something can change in the blink of an eye. Life is not a math problem where if you insert the correct quantities, you are automatically guaranteed a good result. So for me, I don’t see January 1st as a magic day that ushers in a new me. I see it as a normal day, another day where I have to lean on and cling to Christ.

Having said all that, I don’t think it wrong or silly to have goals and want to make changes in your life. It can be very beneficial! But ultimately, we are all human. We will all fail because none of us are perfect. And when that happens

For grieving parents, the holidays can be an excruciating time of year. Everywhere they look, they are reminded of what should have been. They see families getting pictures with Santa and desperately wish their baby was sitting on Santa’s lap, wondering who in the world this crazy guy with the beard is. They buy presents for family and friends and grieve over the presents they would have bought for their baby. They receive Christmas card after Christmas card from what seems like perfect families full of happy, healthy children while they wonder if they should include their dead baby’s name on their card; they desperately want their baby to be remembered but also don’t want to deal with the backlash of people who might think they are being morbid. Many families feel like they have to check out of the Christmas festivities altogether in order to survive, and understandably so. However, I would like to suggest that Christmas is actually meant for people who are suffering and grieving. When you understand the true meaning of Christmas, it suddenly becomes a time of healing and hope instead of a season of pain and isolation.

After my daughter passed away, I clung to books as a way to process and understand what had happened to me. Reading about other people’s journeys through grief gave me hope that one day I would be able to find happiness again and be able to live without the cloud of grief enveloping me every moment of every day. Here are my top picks for books that bring comfort, hope, and truth to grieving parents.

Psalm 127:3 states, “Children are a gift from the Lord; they are a reward from Him.” Growing up, I heard this verse all the time. It’s usually painted on nursery walls, quoted in sermons about the importance of being pro-life, and used to encourage Christians to be open to as many children as the Lord wants to give them. All of those things are good and have their place in our churches. However, somehow as I grew up, I began to believe that this verse and others like it meant that if you were a faithful follower of Christ, you would have no problem having children. I thought that if a family had several kids that they were very close to God because God was obviously blessing them. So when my daughter died in my womb, my first thought was, “Why did God take away my blessing? What did I do wrong?”

On November 22nd, 1991, at 8:20 PM, Marshall and Susan Shelley welcomed a baby boy into the world. At 8:22 – two minutes later – he died. The nurse asked, “Do you have a name for the baby?” Susan answered, “Toby. It’s short for a Biblical name, Tobaiah, which means, ‘God is good.’” When her husband Marshall told the story at a Wheaton College Alumni meeting, he summed up his talk, “Life is hard, and God is good.”

How did Marshall and Susan Shelley – seeing their son’s life end after only two minutes – find the spiritual resources to testify to God’s unwavering goodness? They did not measure God’s goodness in earthly circumstances and comforts, but in the eternal riches of kindness that has been provided for them in Jesus Christ.

One of the good things that has come from the depth of our suffering is that we were led to adoption. Adoption was one of those things that I supported, and I would even tell people that I wanted to adopt in the future. But I wasn’t seriously looking into it, and I always thought of it as something that would come after we were done having biological children. It was an afterthought at best. However, after experiencing a stillbirth and a miscarriage back to back, adoption seemed like the only way I would get another child since my body was so broken. My husband and I prayed hard and sought God’s will, and it seemed like God was telling us to pursue adoption full-force. Several of our friends and families did not agree; they thought we should wait at least a year after Hope’s death before making such a huge decision. There is wisdom in waiting, but there are many reasons that I’m glad we pursued adoption so soon after loss.

“He’s here, Lauren! He’s here!” My midwife lifted Sammy into the air to show me that my baby was alive. As he was placed on my belly, I stared with awe and wonder at this little life that my body had successfully brought into the world. The nurses were rubbing him, coaxing him to cry and take big gulps of air. But something was wrong; Sammy would cry but would make little grunting noises as he tried to breathe. The NICU was paged for a consult. I laid on the bed, praying and hoping that he would begin to breathe better so I could keep him with me. The NICU team arrived and put CPAP on him, but his oxygen level was not improving. They tried one last ditch effort: skin-to-skin with me. I held him for one beautiful minute, but nothing was working, so they told me to kiss him goodbye. He was quickly rolled away to the NICU, and as I watched my baby leave, the tears began to pour down my face. I had finally reached the moment I had waited so long for, only to have my baby taken away again.