Abortion and Miscarriage Grief

I've been seeing a lot of talk swirling around recently after Planned Parenthood shared a quote with an article that claims abortion is the same thing as miscarriage.

Grieving parents who've lost a baby through miscarriage or stillbirth are clearly and understandably upset because of the reality of the stark differences. One is a deliberate taking of life and the other is an unintentional loss of life. This is obviously different.

But as someone who has experienced both, I'm here to share my thoughts.

While the losses are undeniably different, the grief over the losses can be very much the same (I know this is not a popular statement) because each results in the loss of one's own child and all their lives would have held. Not everyone regrets their abortion, so I'm not talking about them. I'm referring to the millions of women (and men), who do regret their decision to end the life of their unborn baby.

In February 2009, I chose for a heartbeat to cease within my body at 6 weeks gestation, and a year later another heartbeat would cease within my body that wasn't my choice. A baby who grew big and strong until she was suddenly lost 2 days past her due date. Both hearts beat on in Eternity. Both hearts changed mine. The ceasing of one left me with regret while the ceasing of the other left me with peace. The difference being the surrender to God's will.

As alone as I feel at times in loving and missing Lily, I feel even more so about Luke. I wonder how could I expect others to miss him when I didn't even know him? How could I expect others to love him when I loved him too late?

I feel like a fraud and a phony, when I know others believe I have no reason or right to grieve. After all, it was a choice I made. Some of the same people that validate my grieving Lily believe my grieving Luke is invalid. There are the rare friends who honor and remember Luke alongside me as well.

Doesn't regret flow out of choices that we wish we could re-do? Why do we have grace for other forms of regret, but not for this?

Once post-abortive women and men come to understand the depth of the painful reality of their choice, the last thing they need is further condemnation piled on top of them. What they need is compassion, love, grace, and mercy. Just as Christ has given each and every one of us.

Would we rather women not regret their abortions? We should be grateful for the empowerment of the witness of those who have awakened to the truth of the wrong they have done. Who better to testify to the ravages of abortion than those who have been through it?

Our compassion should be fueled by taking into consideration the confusion created by abortion being sanctioned by the law and by much of society. After all, if it's legal, it must be right and good. Living in a nation that constantly bombards us with messages of "choice," "rights" and "look our for number one," why should we be shocked when people actually live by these all-pervasive messages?

When we deny women the right to grieve, we are saying that that child's life who was aborted didn't really matter. Does that life not deserve to be grieved and acknowledged? Do the sins of the parents wipe out the validity and sanctity of the aborted child?

We fight for life and say we value it, yet why don't we give room and grace to those who've lost a baby in any way? Why do we silence these women and men and want them to "move on" without pause? Why do we tell them they can have another baby as if that somehow makes it okay that this baby died?

Unashamedly I say that both my babies lives matter. I grieve the loss of both of them. I have two children and no lack of understanding from others will change that truth.

It was a gift the Lord gave me when He opened up my heart to love both Lily and Luke as much as I do. And because of how much I love them, I miss them with that same great measure. The grief, in turn, is also a gift, for even that points to the sanctity of their lives and each life, no matter how brief! The agony of regret and guilt adds another dimension to the complicated grief over Luke.

As I've processed my abortion experience and pain over the past almost 9 years, I've grown to have grace and compassion for 19-year-old me, who chose to have an abortion. At that age, I convinced myself that somehow this page in the story of my life could be erased, torn out. That's what the deceiver whispered in my ear. But, now I see so clearly. It was a lie. And I was in such a place of vulnerability and desperation that I was willing, eager even, to believe it.

I realize this could happen to anyone given the right, or shall I say wrong, circumstances. I pray you will remember the same next time you come across a woman who is grieving her child lost through abortion.

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When You Lose a Baby

When you lose a baby, you don't just lose an idea of a person or a potential possibility of a future.

You lose a very real would-have-been life and future, full of all the many small and large things that comprise a life.

You lose knowing what their hobbies and interests would be, the things that would make them laugh, what college they would have attended, who they would have married, who their children would have been... these things just scratch the surface.

The person who is lost before birth is the same person at the core of their being who would've been in 5, 10, 20, 50+ years. All that was needed was time, development, nurturing, and love.

Of course we as humans are shaped by our experiences too, yet a massive part of who we are is determined and crafted by our Creator before we are even born.

The way we will look as we age is already determined, our personalities, the things we will enjoy and prefer... all of these things are wrapped up in the tiny precious package that is a newborn baby.

When this precious life is lost, it's not just an idea that is lost, but the package that was ready to be opened, that suddenly never will be. The contents that were already there are somehow lost, leaving the family with an empty feeling of being somehow gipped and deprived. This package was in your lap ready to be finally opened after shaking it and longing to discover it for 9 months in eager anticipation, then suddenly death steals it back. That's a little bit of what losing a baby feels like.

It was a gift the Lord gave me when He opened up my heart to love Lily as much as I do. And because of how much I love her, I miss her with that same great measure. The grief, in turn, is also a gift, for even that points to the sanctity of her life and each life, no matter how brief. 💕

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Mother's Day 2017

As usual, Mother's Day was bittersweet for me. I am so deeply touched by those who think of me and reach out through text, message, email, with photos, etc. 💕💐

A couple sweet mamas named Stephanie and Sara sent me this for Mother's Day, "from Lily," with her named hand-lettered on it. The envelope was addressed to "Mom," which was so sweet to receive. 😌

I also received this Mother's Day card "from" Lily. 💕

My sweet friend Brittany took Lily along with her family to St. Augustine, Florida on Mother's Day. A bright spot on a hard day! 💛 🐬 🐟 🐠 🐢 

My friend Emily also thoughtfully wrote Lily's name in the sand on her family vacation at Hilton Head Island, South Carolina, in honor of Mother's Day. ❤️ 🌊 ☀️ 🐚 🐳

My friend Chloé in New Zealand thoughtfully sent me this on Mother's Day. 💕

Whilst shopping in downtown Clayton, North Carolina the day before Mother's Day, I treated myself to a couple things that reminded me of my girl. It was special to find these things in the small stores we went in.

My friend Shannon went to a Remembrance Service at her local hospital that was in honor of Mother's Day. She lit a candle and released a balloon in honor of her daughter, as well as Lily, which means a lot to me.

My sweet big brother, Joseph, and his wife, Kala, brought me these flowers on Mother's Day. 😌 💐

A couple days before Mother's Day, I went to a talent show for a local Christian school for boys with my sister-in-law (she has connections through her work). The boys came out during the show with fresh roses and asked all the mothers to stand to receive one. I hesitated briefly, feeling awkward, until Kala grabbed my arm to pull me up. It was so sweet that these young boys are learning how to value women, and also sweet to be remembered. But the sweetest part of all was how Kala knew I'd feel awkward, so she pulled me up to receive my rose.

Janelle sent me this Forget-Me-Not picture for Mother's Day.

Mother's Day was hard, but I am thankful to be Lily's mommy. And I am thankful to spend the day with my own mother. Here she is with all four of her kiddos on Mother's Day 2017 - Joseph and Adam (twins), mom, myself, and Emmaline. We love and treasure our mom. We are thankful for her, love the person God made her to be, and appreciate all she's done for us and continues to do for us. Some things I love about her: how she follows Jesus and seeks to live in light of the Truth in all spheres of life, her incredible interior design and gardening skills, how she loves her grandchildren on Earth and in Heaven, her sense of humor, her servant-heart, among a thousand other things. What a gift it is to celebrate Mother's Day, and every day, with her. Side note: I wore my Lily shirt and earrings and a necklace with her photo on it. :)

I really wanted to pamper my mom on Mother's Day, especially with how much she was missing her own mother...

My friend Tina gave me a lily Bible for Lily Kat's birthday in March this year. My mom loved it when I got it, so I got her one too... with a lily in honor of her granddaughter. And I got her white daisies in honor of her mother (my Bumma), whose favorite flowers were daisies. We had white ones at her Service last month, so I want to make it an annual tradition to get my mom white daisies in her mother's honor each year for Mother's Day.

Mother's Day marked one month since my grandmother's unexpected passing and we were missing her dearly. The tears were flowing freely, especially for my mom. 

It's tough to see my mother grieve the loss of her mother. I can't do anything to ease her pain. And I feel my own pain. Mom is 60-years-old but feels in many ways like a child without her mother. She feels lost and desperate at times to talk to the woman who has been there since the moment her heart started beating. How do you say goodbye to your mother? To the one whose love brought you to life. There are so many different kinds of grief in this world, and Lily has helped me to be much more aware and sensitive of that.

Everyone dies. Those who get as many years as my Bumma got are fortunate. But just because death at an old age is expected doesn't make it any less painful. When you love someone, you don't see their age. You see the very heart and soul of that person. Bumma had 85 amazing years on this Earth. I am thankful for the nearly 28 years I had her here. But I'll miss her the rest of my life.

This photo was taken with my mama and her mama on my 21st birthday in 2010, visiting "our tree friend." ❤️

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*You* Are Remembered This Mother's Day

Mother's Day can sting for many people for many different reasons. For some it is difficult to believe that it could be anything but happy.

I want to acknowledge mothers of all kinds - those who hold children in their hearts rather than their arms, "typical" mothers of biological children, birthmothers, foster mothers, spiritual mothers, adoptive mothers, single mothers, stepmothers, grandmothers, and pregnant mothers.

I also want to mention the women who never got to be mothers, though they longed to be.

I am thinking of the women who desire to be mothers, but because of many different reasons (such as infertility, failed adoption, singleness) they haven't become one yet.

I am thinking of those who are separated from their mothers by death and are fiercely missing them.

I am thinking of those who have broken relationships with either their mother or children.

I pray the God of all hope will fill each of you with peace, comfort, and joy on this day, whether it be completely happy or bittersweet. 💕💐

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Pieces of My Motherhood

Real heartbeat

Unique DNA

My Luke Shiloh

A new name

He gave me

"Mother"

Only 6 weeks

Too soon with Jesus

Missed all my life

Another heartbeat

Unique DNA

My Lily Katherine

Memories held dear

Pregnancy to birth

My first-born

40 glorious weeks

Sacred and sweet

Beautiful girl missed

A not-yet heartbeat

Unique DNA

My hoped-for baby

I pray more than weeks

But a lifetime to raise

His will be done

All my babies -

First child of my heart,

First-born,

Future first-to-raise -

Irreplaceable pieces of my motherhood

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Still Mothering Her

The only motherhood I've ever known is mothering a grave. A legacy. It makes me as a mom feel quite out of place, especially on Mother's Day.

I hold my daughter in my heart, rather than my arms.

I have no other living children on Earth with me to help ease the pain and ache. My motherhood is invisible to the world.

My "parenting decisions" are things like deciding what sort of headstone I wanted for Lily. Did I want it flat or upright? What did I want it to say? What words did I want permanently etched in stone? What special things should I take to the cemetery where she's buried when I go up to Virginia to visit soon?

I must imagine what my own child might be like. How she might look. Who she might have become in these past 7 years.

What is it even like to look at your child in their eyes? Blue eyes. That's what I truly believe she had. Blue eyes like her mama. She looked just like a mini-me.

My daily reality consists of loving a precious princess that I never got to know past 40 weeks 2 days. Instead of thinking what I can do for my daughter, I think of how I can honor her. I think of how I can be a mom to her, without her here. I pour out my heart to her on my blog. I share the same select photos of her over and over. I go to remembrance walks and candlelight ceremonies, release butterflies, eat all things red-velvet, plant a garden, take photos of lilies, make hospital comfort boxes.

How many different ways can I say, I miss her. I miss who she would have become. I miss who she might've been in the future. How many different ways can I say, this is hard. How many different ways can I say, I am thankful still. And the Lord is good, always.

Lily is still very much a part of my every day, which is demonstrated in all the ways I honor her. And with each person who remembers her with me. A friend remarked a few days ago on how special it is that so many people around the world remember Lily with me. And it truly is a HUGE gift. With each photo sent my way, it validates my motherhood. It silently speaks that Lily's life matters. With each gesture of remembrance, it's as if God is saying, "you are a mother, her mother, and you will mother her in Heaven in all the ways you didn't get to on Earth."

When I post photos of Lily's name around the world, or share my heart about her publicly, know that I am not dwelling on something sad or "not moving forward." I am moving forward. And my final destination is Heaven... where she is. She is ahead of me, in my future and in my forward. When we live across the country/world from those we care about, we miss them, right? We don't stop loving them, thinking of them, and wanting to see them. Instead we long for the time we will see them again... So it is with Lily. We have a long-distance mother-daughter relationship, so to speak. But the separation hurts for now. Even when we know we will see someone again, it hurts to be apart. She is not just "a thing that happened to me" in my past. SHE IS MY CHILD, whom I will always dearly love. And I am STILL A MOTHER. Her mother. My motherhood might look different than most, but it's mine, and it's real. ❤️ 

This photo and post was shared as a part of multiple projects for Mother's Day... the Mother Hearts Project, where we take a photo of our hand over our heart to signify how we carry our children in our hearts. Also, the Still Mothering project, where mothers without any living children got this t-shirt that says "mother" on it to share what our motherhood looks with the world, and to show that we are still mothers. And lastly, I'm sharing this as part of Motherhood Rewritten, where a "community of women who have lived Mother's Day outside what culture claims as the norm" share their stories. In the photo, I am wearing a necklace with Lily's photo on it, and am obviously holding her foot and handprint. #stillmothering #thisisstillmotherhood #wearestillmothers #MotherHeartsProject #MotherhoodRewritten #icarryherheartinmine

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To the Mother's with an Aching Heart, on Mother's Day

This is a beautiful video for Mother's Day. I appreciate the sweet friends who thought of me and sent this my way this week. ❤️

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"We Carry Them in Our Hearts" Mother's Day Film

About this film project: "Mother's Day can really sting. Here is a glimpse into the heart of a bereaved mother. This film "We Carry Them In Our Hearts" is a world-wide collaboration of women helping to shine a light on what it is like to experience and survive the unimaginable death of a baby or child of any age or gestation. If you are a bereaved mother, join the movement! Take a photo of yourself holding your hands over your heart and share it on your favorite social media website. Use the hashtags #BereavedMothersDay #MotherHeartsProject ❤️ "

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My 9th Mother's Day

The following is something I wrote and shared for the first time a couple years ago...

This year is my ninth Mother's Day as a mother, though honestly most probably wouldn't see me as one for all those years. I see it as my responsibility to explain why I was a mother all those years ago, because in doing so, I bring recognition to the existence of my child as well as to countless other mothers and children. 

On Mother's Day in 2009, I would have still been carrying my first child, whom I have named Luke Shiloh. I would have been around halfway through my pregnancy. Instead, his heart beat within me for just a few short weeks. He was so tiny, hidden from all eyes, and I couldn't even feel him yet when he flew to Heaven. 

In all honesty, the short flicker of his heart beat could have forever remained a secret kept from most everyone. It would have remained less complicated that way and would have kept the world from seeing what a wretched sinner I was. 

However, I am compelled to tell the world about the sweet heart, the first that will ever have beaten inside my womb, the heart that beat with a purpose, even when it appeared it was thwarted by the choice I made out of fear and selfishness. 

His brief existence gave me the title of mother, even when I didn't want it yet. No child, not Lily or any future baby, will ever be able to take that place of being the first heart to beat in my body besides my own. Luke Shiloh will always be my first child and I believe with my entire being that I will hold him and know him one day, on the same day I'll hold his little sister, Lily, and meet the Jesus who made a way for us all to be together again, where we will no longer remember the pain or darkness of this Earth, but will spend all Eternity worshipping at the feet of our Lord Jesus.

Though the enemy of my soul meant to thwart the purposes of God for both my child and my life and future, God in His graciousness didn't allow that to happen. No, He uses even our deepest sin and darkness to bring light to this world. He is our Rescuer and has a plan to redeem our souls and our lives for our good and His glory. 

Even though Luke's heart ceased to beat within me so early and it might appear his life had no meaning, I know that it does. Because of Luke, I chose life for Lily. I believe that the short time that Luke's heart beat will be used by God to allow the hearts of other children's hearts to beat much longer, meaning their mothers will choose life for them. 

I grieve not having more with Luke, not knowing with certainty his gender, face, or personality. Who would he be today? Yes, I will always regret my choice and can be sad with such thoughts, but I am so thankful for the story God is writing, and I am thankful that He has put His love within me for both my babies. 

I am thankful for Luke Shiloh, the first child of my heart and womb, and Lily Katherine, my first-born. Thank you both for making me a mother who gets the honor of that title. What a blessing to be chosen by God to be your forever mommy! 

Thank you to my dear friends and family who remember and recognize not only Lily, but Luke as well. I hope that in sharing my story others will see that once a heart beats within, you will never again *not* be a mother. Embrace the gift of motherhood! 

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Bereaved Mother's Day Butterfly Release 💕

Sunday was a beautiful day for a butterfly release!

Thank you to the North Carolina Chapter of the TEARS Foundation for hosting this special event for Bereaved Mother's Day. I had been wishing for some sort of event to gather with fellow bereaved families and mark the day in a special way for years. :)

My family who joined me for the butterfly release... Lily's uncles, auntie, grandmother, mommy, and cousin.

We released ours for Lily Katherine and my Aunt Rachel. Can you spot their names? :) We went around and shared who we were releasing the butterflies for and I told who we are, and who Lily and Rachel are. I shared that my grandmother, Rachel's mother, passed away just 3 weeks ago and I feel it is now my responsibility to always honor Rachel and never forget her. It felt like we were releasing the butterfly for Bumma too, since we shared a love of the little creatures.

We were so touched that they included the grandmothers by giving them their own butterfly.

The little packets that each butterfly came in, with a sweet saying on them. We could hear the butterflies fluttering around.

Harvest waving for cousin Lily and great-aunt Rachel!

About to release our butterflies.

They were Painted Lady butterflies, from the same company where I got mine for Lily's butterfly release a couple years ago!

The flowers that the butterflies were landing on.

With my friend, Ashley.

My butterfly necklace for the butterfly release. And I wore my Lily dress and earrings. :)

The weather was PERFECT! My ideal kind of day... lower 70s with the sun shining, white puffy clouds, and a gentle breeze.

Here is a video of me releasing my butterfly!

My sister-in-law Kala gave both my mom and I a daisy for the day. :)

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Disenfranchised Grief on Mother's Day

This is something I first shared last year leading up to Mother's Day...

Mother's Day is an extremely painful day as a mother without living children.

This year will be my NINTH year as a mother on Mother's Day. That is crazy. How does one mark such a day as a mother to children who live with God?

Mothers who have lost children to abortion and stillbirth are often not understood or their experiences and motherhood acknowledged, leaving them to walk through the loneliness and isolation of disenfranchised grief. This is especially true for those without any living children.

I consider my first Mother's Day as a mother to have been in 2009. I was at Virginia Beach that weekend and would have still been carrying Luke Shiloh. I would have been 19 weeks 3 days gestation, to be exact. Instead, Luke had been with the Lord since 6 weeks gestation. But that doesn't change that he was real and that he made me a mother, whether I wanted to be one yet or not. His heartbeat was real. His DNA was real and would never be repeated again.

The following year, in 2010, would have been my first Mother's Day with Lily Katherine here. She would have been 2 months old at that point. We spent the week at Massanutten and I was going to have a baby shower with Virginia friends and family. Only there was no need for a baby shower and no baby in my arms. She too was with the Lord and Luke.

The ache of Mother's Day gets more pronounced with each passing Spring. How do mothers like me mark such a day? When our love for our children is the same, yet those on the outside looking in can't see them. When we don't have people sending us flowers and gifts, taking us out to eat, or telling us "Happy Mother's Day." When our arms are empty, empty, empty, yet our love and desire to care for our children in tangible ways is just as alive and real as the mothers around us with their children in adorable outfits.

When the only proof of my motherhood is the love I carry, the echo of the memory of the two hearts that beat within, and the marks of motherhood underneath my shirt.

Mothers who have lost children to stillbirth, abortion, or miscarriage, know you are not alone. Your babies matter and are real. Your motherhood is valid and important. Do whatever you need to do to heal and get through Mother's Day... Whether that be staying home from church and avoiding the baby dedications that make you want to scream and run, staying home altogether, making a delicious meal, going for a hike and picnic, listening to beautiful music, getting together with other mothers with similar experiences, getting flowers in your child's honor, staying away from social media, among many other things.

Please feel free to share your child's name and story in the comments section, as well as any ideas for how to mark Mother's Day. 💕

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