Sam's 1st haircut

It's not a dramatic one, but below you can see the baby mullet and fine, whispy above-the-ear wings that were forming:

And tonight after a quick bathtub trim:

Much cleaner!👶🏼✂️➡️👦🏼

On Miscarriage

Disclaimer: This post is about, well, miscarriage, which we experienced on September 24 when we lost our 3rd baby.  It's also about doubts and deep grief and deep hope and Jesus.  So, if any of those things aren't your gig, then you should probably skip this one. A reminder that this blog is a platform for sharing updates from our family (and lots of photos of cute brothers!) but also, mostly, a place for me to collect memories of our beautiful and joy-filled life.  This includes walking through dark and hard things, like losing a baby, and how Jesus has met us in that.

Also, if we are close and this is the first time you're hearing about our miscarriage, please know that I'm sorry for you to hear this way.  It is a really awkward and terrible thing to have to call someone up and tell them the news of your miscarriage, so after doing that a few times, we stopped.  I hope you'll forgive me for not being able to share it more personally.

Last, every family is unique, and therefore each experience with loss is unique.  These are just some thoughts based on my experience.

Having a miscarriage is so surreal.  One minute, you have this most wonderful secret, that you're going to have another person joining your family!  Then, suddenly, it's gone.  And no one ever even knew it was there.  The experts say that losing a pregnancy can amount to deep grief comparable to that of losing a spouse, no matter how early the pregnancy loss occurred.  We knew for 6 whole, wonderful days that we would be expecting a 3rd child in our family.  And, let's be clear, at the first positive pregnancy test, that's what it was to me - a child - because it was wanted and hoped for and prayed for.

When the bleeding, and then the pain, started on the 7th day, I immediately blamed myself.  But, wait!  I'm a nurse!  And I'm married to an OB!  We know that a miscarriage is almost never the mama's fault.  And yet, maybe if I just hadn't worked out so hard or walked/jogged so long, or if I hadn't had that extra cup of coffee last week, or lifted so many patients on my shift at the hospital the day before... Even the word "miscarry" itself suggests that something was not handled right.  The pregnancy wasn't carried well. "Mis-" bad or wrong, "-carried."  For days, I walked around full of dread and shame that I had killed our baby, and that even though he would never say it, I was so afraid that Stuart also thought this, though I knew that he knew better, too.

I had worked a full shift at the hospital the day before, and my mom just happened to stay an extra night with us (after keeping the boys) because my dad was out of town and she didn't have to work the next day.  So, in His amazing providence, God put my very own mama at my home early on the morning that my miscarriage started.  Even in those first few moments of knowing what was happening when I first woke up, I felt so ashamed and alone.  But you can't hide grief from your own mama.  She sat with me that morning and let me talk about it and cry, and then she helped me take care of my boys all day.  Looking back, I love that we spent that day at the Museum of Life and Science.  Stuart and I used to go on dates there before we were married, and it has become one of our favorite places to take the boys, so it's fitting to me that the Lord had me walk through those exhibits, loving on my first two boys as my third child slipped away.  It will always be a super special place of comfort to me (a science museum... I know, odd).

The next morning, I talked to our midwife, Meg, and she gave me lots of good practical advice - medical stuff to watch out for, of course, but also good heart advice like to really accept and walk through the grief, to talk about it, especially because of the shame and guilt I was feeling (which is so, so common, she reassured me), to not be afraid of making others uncomfortable in talking about it because our culture doesn't handle talking about it very well, and to not use humor to diffuse the awkwardness when telling people about it or as a coping mechanism this time (she knows us well).  She said humor makes light of the situation, and the death of my child is never something that I can make light of.

That afternoon during nap time, I called my best friend Casey, and I told her the awful story and she let me talk and we cried, even while she was on a beach vacation with her own son and husband and in-laws.  Her tears, somehow, were the beginning of healing for me.

Something that surprised me was how out of control my emotions felt for those first several days.  I would cry all day and not be able to give a specific reason, and then suddenly I would have peace and feel such deep love and admiration for Stuart or James and Sam.  It felt like the mood swings that come postpartum, and I remember telling Stuart that I was feeling a little crazy and it was scaring me, and then he told me that I was experiencing a postpartum time of sorts, and that it's hard and it sucks, but it's normal and okay.

Speaking of Stuart, he and I each grieved this loss differently, and we decided on the very first day that we both needed to be okay with that.  I think beginning that conversation early opened our hearts up wide to one another to offer grace so that we can each grieve the way that we need to (this is still an act of grace that plays out almost every day, usually when I mention one of several streams of thought that I'm still working through, and Stuart is patient and kind and full love love to allow me to).

We spent most of the first week of our miscarriage actually traveling to visit family in Arkansas.  48 hours after the loss began, we packed our little family and most of our house up in our minivan and drove 8 hours to Nashville, where we stayed with our dear friends, Chris and Jill Merrick.  Oh, God knew what He was doing.  Jill was 10 weeks pregnant at the time, and I had to show up at her house late, in the cold rain, with my two cranky toddlers and tired husband and tell her that I had lost a baby.  She and Chris wrapped us up completely in their love, pointing us to Christ and His cross and how utterly and deeply He cares for us and carries us.  Our time with them was absolutely balm to my spirit.  The next day we headed on to AR, and I spent that week in this weird place of joy in seeing our family and loving on our people in far away places, and secretly grieving the loss of a little one that I already loved more than myself.  Stuart's mama, Ann, and my sister-in-law Beth, were both so tender and kind to care for me that week, and I will never forget the comfort I found in our conversations.

After those first days, the pain moved on, the pregnancy was gone, the hormones leveled out.  And my mind cleared up a little, which is when it got hard.  Why would God take my child from me?  "He gives and He takes away; blessed be His Name" (Job 1:21).  Really??  No!  I cannot call Him blessed.  That's where I was for awhile.  In hindsight, I am grateful for a God who calls me His child and lets me beat against His chest in anger.  Because I was angry (and still am sometimes).  And that's okay.  He is teaching me and reminding me that I can't see or know or understand it all.  That the truth in Psalm 116:15 - "Precious in the sight of the Lord is the homecoming of His Saints" - applies to all that He has chosen... not only to older folks who have had a long, full life, but also to tiny babies that never once breathed the air on this Earth.  Though, it's much easier to accept when we think of that truth in light of a long, full life.  But then, what is a full life, really?  Isn't the fullness of life made complete after death?  In eternity?  How much sweeter is that eternity for a soul who never experienced acts of sin or pain or sadness.  But on this side of eternity, this mama still longs for the chance to have held and nursed and trained up and nurtured that soul.

And here are some thoughts that are going to make you uncomfortable...

What if my baby was not a chosen child of the King?  I am grateful for the Presbyterian tradition of Covenant theology that Stuart and I have been a part of for these last 10 years.  Though not guaranteed, we see throughout the history of God's kingdom that He tends to work his salvation plan through families.  All of Israel, God's chosen people, came from Abraham's seed.  But, let's be clear (here's the uncomfortable part): the Scriptures never promise that babies go to Heaven.  God, in His good wisdom and mercy, rescues those whom He chooses.  And my baby, from the very moment of conception, needed a Rescuer.  Scripture is clear on that (Psalm 51:5).  I can hope, but I will never know until I meet Him face to face myself, where my baby is for eternity.  I can only hope he is in the arms of Jesus, though he may not be and nowhere am I promised that.  This is one big, hard, ugly thing that I continue to struggle with.  I can never know for sure what happened to my baby or where he is - and that makes me feel sometimes as if he's lost, like I was just out at the grocery store with my child, and suddenly he's gone, nowhere to be found... and he's just never found.  And it's forever. It leaves me feeling terrified and empty.  You can pray for me.

I decided to name the baby we lost:  Nehemiah (in my mind it was a boy, well, pretty much because that's all I can imagine, having only had boys so far).  His name means "God's comfort" or "consolation" - the Jesus Storybook Bible says Nehemiah means "God wipes away the tears," and though this miscarriage has been the worst, most terrible, hardest thing with the deepest grief I have ever personally walked through, my God has also carried me every day through it.  He does wipe away my tears, even as they continue to come at the most unexpected times.  I think about this baby every day.  If I seem fine and normal, it's probably because I mostly am at this point, but don't be fooled into thinking that this little one isn't always, always on my mind.  He will always be my third child, and having other babies in the future won't replace the loss that I experienced when he slipped away.

So, if you are still reading, please don't be afraid to ask how we are doing - next week, next year or next decade.  From what I have been told, the grief doesn't ever go away, but it does get easier to manage.  And don't shy away from other women or families in your lives that have suffered a loss through miscarriage (or other types of pregnancy/infant loss).  It is devastating, no matter at what point the child is lost.  And it is isolating and lonely and scary.  Our culture does not do a good job talking about losing a baby.  It's super awkward and terrible, and no one knows what to say.  That's okay.  Just say "Gosh, this sucks for you."  Because it does, and just having that acknowledged brings comfort.

WV trip

A few weeks ago, my parents and I took the little boys up to visit my grandparents in West Virginia.  Our time in the car and the overall trip went really smoothly - probably our best roadtrip yet.  I might have to give some (a lot) of that credit to P\paw, who rode in the back with the boys.  They were happy the entire time!

Roadtrip meal stop at Cracker Barrel (#tradition)



WV turnpike in the fall



Gas prices in Ripley!



Sam with sweet Coco pup at Mamma Parsons'



James driving the "tractor" with P\paw supervising



Cousins on the tractor



Samuel crawling through the grass...?









Pappa Parsons fixing the tractor



Walking practice with Mema





Cousins on the real tractor












Mema Acree doesn't like to have her picture taken, so this is the photo I have of her ;)



Bath time at Mema Acree's



Cousin photo shoot



Mamma Parsons before church





Almost home... We missed Stuart and couldn't wait to get home to see him!



We're headed back to WV for Thanksgiving... hopefully that trip will go just as smoothly!

Painting...

It has totally been James' gig lately.  He starts innocently enough with his brush sweetly dabbing the paint on his paper/pumpkin/project medium... But soon enough he is painting up his arm and all over his face.  He loves it.  I try hard to let it go and just bathe him afterward!