Tag: miscarriage

Our great news

You may have read a part of our story about our miscarriage. I shared my perspective, and my wife shared hers.

To be honest with you, it’s been painful. Questions like, “Is this your only child?” hurt. Surely they don’t mean anything by their questions, but they sure feels loaded with accusations.

“You should have more.”

“If you really valued children…”

Then there were the more pointed ones that cut deep. The things you should never say to a woman.

I’ve shared our story countless times. It felt raw, because it was. It felt painful, because it was. It felt unfinished, because it was.

And just at the moment where we were resigning ourselves to believing that our chance to have another biological child was complete, we got some pretty exciting news.

We are pregnant!

Screen Shot 2013-04-29 at 7.19.41 PM

Which is unbelievably exciting! I can’t tell you how much we’ve waited for this time.

But we’re battling our fears, even now. We’re in to the 2nd trimester (due October 11), but knowing how the last pregnancy ended, we know it could happen again. We know that we could lose this pregnancy like the last one. And we desperately don’t want to experience that again.

My wife and I have prayed more during this season than we ever have in our lives. It’s caused us to lean in to God and trust Him, because we honestly don’t know what else to do.

In fact, there’s nothing else we can do. It’s completely in God’s hands. Completely. There’s no medical procedure we can do, no precautions we can take, and no safety measures we can put in place. We’re doing everything we can…but it’s not enough.

Life is in God’s hands. We know that. We’ve always known it. But now, that truth feels palpable. Every time I look at my wife’s belly, I’m reminded that God is the author of life. He’s the one that knits us together (Psalm 139:13), and nothing happens outside of His plan.

We covet your prayers. More than anything, we’d beg you to plead to God on our behalf: preserve this young baby’s life.

If you’ll commit to praying, I’d love for you to leave a comment below. That would mean a lot to me and my wife.



18 things you should never say to a woman

My wife and I have struggled with infertility. We brought you into our journey HERE and HERE.

When God brings you through pain and suffering and confusion, you’re marked forever. You’re not the same person. You don’t process life the same. You don’t grieve the same. You don’t celebrate the same. You don’t see other people the same way.

Experiencing a miscarriage has caused me to treat women, and couples, differently. I’m more cautious when talking with them about children. I think before I speak about pregnancy. I don’t bring up the idea of children with couples that don’t have any, unless they bring it up first. There are certain questions I don’t ask and statements I don’t make. There are jokes that I refuse to say, or laugh at. Ever.


image credit: Matt Gruber, creationSwap

I’ve found that there are certain questions you should never ask a woman, whether she has 4 children or none. Whether she’s pregnant or single. Young or old.

How did I learn you should never ask these?

My wife and I have been asked (or heard others being asked) each of these. In church. At Starbucks. At the grocery store. Over the phone. Or in an email. And there’s something inside of me that burns with anger when we’re asked. I know that most of the time, these questions are harmless.

But they’re hurtful. They bring up past pain and suffering. They bring up current pain and suffering. They remind us that we may never, ever give birth again.

If you want to walk through life with people in a way that builds healthy relationships, take note…and never say these things.

Things you should never say to a woman

Have you thought about having kids?

When are you going to start your family?

By the time we were your age, we had __ kids already!

You know it only gets harder to have kids the older you get, right?

What’s wrong with you, that you guys haven’t had kids yet?

You’ll never know what real parenting is until you have more than one.

Are you just not ready for another child?

Are you just being selfish? Why don’t you want children?

You guys would make great parents.

It’s about time you guys had a baby. The clock’s ticking!

To people specifically dealing with infertility

I know exactly what you’re going through…

We had 3 miscarriages before we had…

You can always adopt.

At least you have one child already.

Did you know that there are doctors out there that can fix you?

When are you going to try to have another kid?

Having one miscarriage doesn’t mean you’re done. Just keep trying!

Well, at least you’ve got each other.

Have you ever been asked hurtful questions about your children/pregnancy?



Pain hurts: a reflection on our miscarriage

I originally posted this 2 years ago. My wife and I are coming up on the 2-year mark for this portion of our stories, but with the massive changes in our lives recently (I’m now on staff at Long Hollow), I wanted to share this again. Just so you know, this was, and is, a painful part of our story.


It wasn’t just a miscarriage. It didn’t feel like we were “losing a pregnancy.” It felt like we were losing a baby.

Those are the words I’ve uttered countless times to countless people. As the news eked in through little spurts of information from multiple ultrasounds and blood tests, what we feared became a reality. “It’s not a viable pregnancy” didn’t make the pain or reality disappear. It didn’t make the baby growing inside my wife any less of a human.

Earlier this year, my wife experienced the most pain we’ve experienced in our marriage. My wife processed it out loud on my blog HERE.

Though the pain wasn’t as visceral for me, it was no less real. Through the process, I learned some valuable lessons.

Lessons I learned through a miscarriage

Every life is a gift.

I value my own life, and especially the life of my won, so much more now. It’s so much more valuable.

Every life is miracle.

Seeing that this whole pregnancy/birthing process doesn’t just happen automatically has really helped me see how each and every birth is a great miracle.

Experiencing a miscarriage is a real loss.

Not that I didn’t understand this from a theological, academic standpoint. But going through it myself, experiencing that loss, has given me a greater understanding of how to minister to people who are experiencing this. We had talked about the difficulty of miscarriages in seminary. But it was all theory. And I know that someone doesn’t have to go through every difficulty before they can help someone else. But there’s a different weight, a different level of help, that you give once you’ve experienced the exact pain that another person is experiencing.

There’s no “getting over” this.

I dont’ think it’s possible to really “get over” this loss. You can move on. You can grow. But to think that you can “get over” this as if it never really happened is foolish. Anytime you experience significant pain, the answer in coping is learning how to deal with life differently, because life has been altered.

My wife and I are doing well. We’ve grown because of this. Grown in ways we probably wouldn’t have otherwise.

We’ve still not had the joy of getting pregnant again. Maybe God will see fit for us to head back down that path. But maybe not.

Regardless, we’re trusting Him.

*photo credit Creation Swap user: Joe Cavazos



Thoughts on love and loss

I originally posted this 2 years ago. My wife and I are coming up on the 2-year mark for this portion of our stories, but with the massive changes in our lives recently (I’m now on staff at Long Hollow), I wanted to share this again. Just so you know, this was, and is, a painful part of our story.


This is a guest post from my wife, Laura.  We had a miscarriage earlier this year, and here are her thoughts moving forward.  You can follow her on Facebook HERE, and the company she (and my wife and sister-in-law) created HERE.
image by Reggie Tiongco

I still remember the first time I saw our baby- all curled up on the monitor screen- the sweet profile of the head, nubs of arms and legs not quite developed.  It was love at first sight.  That was our baby.  The one we has waited so long for.  The one that made our Rex a big brother.

Looking back, the night we found out we were pregnant was such a bad time to take a pregnancy test. It was humorous really, Superbowl Sunday, people expected at our house any minute.  I’m not really sure what I was thinking.  With all of the negative test we had taken over those months, I knew whichever way the test went I would find it hard to be a good hostess. Maybe not knowing would have been just as hard.

I surely didn’t expect it to be positive. Oh, and the events following that night and it’s announcement.  I have often tried to make sense of the purpose of that short life growing inside of me.  It’s true, that through announcing our joy we were able have a heart-to-heart with loved ones- clear the air about where our relationship had been and where we all wanted it to be.  And while I wouldn’t trade that sweet moment in their living room for anything, our baby was alive then.

Where is the meaning in the death?

My mother-in-law once told me that what she remembers most about that day was me.  She said I looked so small and vulnerable on the bed in that big ultrasound room.  I tried to be strong in that moment- maybe just optimistic.  I’ve noticed that about myself- I’m always looking for a way to make things happen, even when I’m told they can’t.  I just kept trying to tell myself that maybe the ultrasound tech was wrong.  That once I saw my doctor she would be able to see whatever the tech couldn’t.  If I were honest though, I think I knew that the life was gone. I had that sinking feeling since the beginning of the pregnancy.  I prayed about it a lot, begging God to protect the life growing inside me.  I pushed down the worries, thinking that buying maternity clothes and picking out names would magically change what I suspected might happen.  As if we can DO anything to change what God has already written.  That is, anything but pray.

The rest of March came and went in a blur of emotions.  In some ways I feel like it flew by, in other ways it drug on and on.  For the most part I guess I knew I was okay, but I wondered if I had really come to terms with my situation or if I was running from dealing with it.  I guess both may be true.

It’s a funny thing about love and loss.  There is hardly a day that goes by that I don’t think about the baby on that monitor screen.  Not so much grieving the loss any more, these days I am mostly filled with questions:

Will I continue to have miscarriages or even be able to get pregnant again?  Will I ever meet my little one? Know if I had a he or a she? Will I ever feel that baby in my arms, the way I now do with my sweet niece?

I’m sure that asking ten different professionals would yield ten different answers.  And in a way, maybe the answers don’t really matter.

What matters is the journey through this time.

I surely cannot say that I am on the other end- but, I can say that the Lord is walking me through it.

And, while I don’t know all the ways He is working on me as a result of this experience, I know He is working.  There is unbelievable comfort in that.  He promises never to leave us or forsake us.  He promises to work good for those who love him- making us more like Himself with ever step.  Whatever the storm, whatever the situation, He is there and He is working.

There is no question in that.



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