In April 2016, my oldest boy, Michael was born! My world was turned upside down in the best way. As he grew, so did the questions: have more children, not have more children, when is the time right? Then, all of a sudden, it was 2020 and my husband and I decided it was time. In September, I found out I was expecting baby number two and we were beyond excited. As the time grew closer to our first official appointment, I was feeling all the signs and symptoms of pregnancy. 

October 8, 2020. The doctor started the ultrasound and instantly, my breathing stopped, my heart started racing, and the tears started forming… no baby, no heartbeat fluttering, nothing. I was experiencing a Molar Pregnancy. A molar pregnancy is a rare complication of pregnancy. It involves unusual growth of cells. These cells typically become the organ that feeds a growing fetus. I had a complete molar pregnancy where the placental tissue swells and appears to form fluid-filled cysts, but there is no fetus. Never before this day had I heard of a molar pregnancy. Never did I think I would be the one in four, but here I was. So naturally, I decided to mentally, emotionally, and physically focus on running a half marathon. I wasn’t ready to process, I wasn’t ready to accept it, and at the time, I didn’t know that was my state of mind.

As I started my running journey, I soon found out that Jenn was pregnant with baby number three. And then came the mix of emotions. Happy that we had another little one on the way, jealous that my plans for baby number two didn’t work out the way I wanted, and now it’s time for me to try again. So, the journey to get pregnant again started. July 2021, we found out, baby number two (redo) was on the way, and they would arrive in March 2022. So, here we were, two sisters, pregnant with our babies who would be roughly 5 months apart.

October 11, 2021. Miles was born sleeping. I was 19 weeks pregnant, and my sister has now just experienced the worst thing a parent should ever have to experience. So, I did what I knew best to do. I took care of Noah and Harper so that Jenn and Gerald could process. I embraced my role as big sister, caretaker, fixer. I kept the excitement of my little one in so that I could be there to emotionally support (and grieve) the loss of my nephew. I also started downplaying the loss I experienced in 2020… there wasn’t a baby to grieve over, I was only a few weeks in, my loss was not as big a loss as Miles…

March 3, 2022. Jakobi was born. Prior to his arrival, I felt the Holy Spirit prompt me to ask Jenn if she would like to be in the room for Jakobi’s birth. It was not an easy ask, and I knew it would not be an easy answer for her. But I also knew, with as close as we are, she would be mad at me if I didn’t ask, so for me, it was “worth the risk”. She said yes and was with us through every phase of the day. From the time we arrived at the hospital until the time Jakobi arrived, she was there. She took breaks, silently cried in the hallways, but she didn’t leave, and she didn’t let her own grief stop her from supporting me and the new little one on the way. To this day, I am amazed by the strength and support she displayed… It was one of the highest forms of love I’d ever experienced. 

Jakobi was delivered. I was the first to hold him and Jenn was the second. My husband and I talked about this prior to Jakobi’s birth. I just knew that was a moment she needed. In fact, when Harper was born in 2019, she was the baby I needed. Not because I had experienced a loss, but more so because she confirmed my desire to have more children. Harper and I have an unmatched bond and I knew in those first moments that Jenn and Jakobi would also have an unmatched bond.

October 2022, our family decided to go away and grieve the one-year anniversary of Miles. It was those moments away that our grief started to turn into purpose. It’s when the talk about having a greater mission started and it’s when dad started his book. October 2022 was the start of the newest ministry we never thought we’d enter. This is when the talk of Miles’ Mission started, and the journey quickly took off from there.

The spring of 2023 brought a new sense of purpose to our family. We found ourselves coming out of the darkness of grief and into the light of “we can do this”. I too was turning a corner. Jakobi just turned one, my job as the director of a childcare campus was gearing up for summer camp, where we would host an additional 200 children with our already 325 enrolled, and my husband and I were finally starting to settle in as parents of two very active boys.

May 2023. I found out I was pregnant. This was NOT the plan. All my other pregnancies were planned. How did we let this happen? We’re already sleep deprived, my work is busier than ever, do we even have enough room for another one? All the thoughts and calculations started spinning. So naturally, my husband calmed me down and helped me to settle into the mentality of “we can do this”. I made my doctor’s appointment and only told a few people, simply because they would know that an unexpected doctor’s appointment was not my norm. A few days after I scheduled the appointment, I started bleeding. I knew that was something that occasionally happens early on in pregnancy, but I’d never had this with any of my other pregnancies. So, I called my doctor’s office and asked for advice. They said that if the bleeding continues over the next 24 hours, to come in and get checked out. Well, the bleeding continued, so I headed to the doctor’s office. I had to go alone because my husband was working and no one else even knew I had taken a pregnancy test, let alone that it was positive. As I laid on the table, my emotions flew. It wasn’t my regular office, instead a branch of my regular office. I was alone. I was just getting excited about having another baby. And for some reason, I just knew it was a girl. 

The appointment finally started. And as soon as the picture came on the screen, the images of October 2020 seemed to be on a loop of repeat. The sac was empty. I had certainly miscarried once again. The doctor and I finished up and as I left the office, the emotions hit as soon as I sat in the van to drive home. I couldn’t call my husband because he was at work, and he can’t answer during certain times of day. So, I called my mom. I called to announce both the pregnancy and the loss. I cried, I processed, and then I went back to work. I let my team know and they told me to go home. I am thankful they did because the team player in me didn’t want to let them down, just like how my body had once again, let me down. 

The next few weeks were kind of a blur. I once again started downplaying my loss… there wasn’t a baby to grieve over, I was only a few weeks in, my loss was not as big a loss as Miles… And then my sister, my strong, brave sister, called me. She grieved for my loss with me. She reminded me that her journey is her journey, and my journey is my journey. Her loss was my loss, and my loss was her loss. Up until then, I did not process that I truly did experience a loss. I lost the hope of a new baby to love on, the hope of my two boys having another sibling, the hope of watching a little one grow into an older one, the loss of being able to love another child unconditionally. 

This time, instead of suppressing my grief by focusing on other things, I took hold of it and allowed myself the time I needed. How did I do that? I started with a trip to Hobby Lobby. During my grieving stage of Miles, Jenn and I started learning about how every month has a flower that represents it. I decided I was going to have “forever living flowers” in my room, to represent my forever babies in heaven. I gather pots, the October (Merigold) and May (Lily of the Valley) flowers, along with some blue Forget Me Nots, because that’s my favorite color. I made my flower arrangement, bought a shelf, bought a few frames, and I named my babies. For the first time, I gave them a name. It took me that long to name my babies. Some may say, “you didn’t have anything to name”. To which I would say, “you have your opinion and I have mine”. To me, the babies I lost, the hope I lost, the experiences I had, deserve a name. 

This is my story. This is where my story can help another momma through her own journey. This is where I start to heal, this is how I help other women know, it’s okay to not be okay and to grieve the loss you’ve experienced. This is where I put the words, “we can do this” into action.

My forever babies, Namoi Rayne (October 2020) and Loveie Joy (May 2023).