Hi and welcome! I'm Lindsey, a Cajun girl living in Charleston, SC with my two adventurous preschoolers, newborn baby boy, & sweet husband. I'm a work-from-home-mom/business owner, just finished my Masters degree, am studying for the LSAT, and love to read. Jesus, Star Wars, Italy (although I've yet to visit, but am forever planning my evening in Roma), and traveling are amongst my favorite things, and you can find me writing about life, parenting, my hopes, dreams, and all things in between.
It’s been a week since the loss of sweet #3 was confirmed, and while this week has been the hardest of my life I am finally feeling the calming peace that can only be provided by the Lord. I’d like to say that I’ve handled this whole thing with grace, but that would be a complete lie. The first few days after learning this news were very dark…my whole body ached and the only thing I managed to do was cry.
So many questions swarmed my mind…
Why did this happen? Was it my fault? How could we try all year for this baby only for him/her to be taken away so soon? What was the point of this?!?!
I switched from sadness to anger often, and then something pretty amazing happened.
On Thursday (12/10) I pulled out a few blank canvases that I’d been saving for a rainy day. Arabella was sick with a virus that she caught from Gav over the weekend and slept all morning, while Gavin and I made hand and footprint art. I had just recently seen the most beautiful quote about miscarriage, and felt a sense of urgency to paint these words so that I could read them each and every day.
With each word, I felt myself start to heal.
Over and over, the thought of our child…that little beautiful face opening it’s eyes…only to see the face of Jesus.
What a breathtaking sight.
And it’s in this very distinct moment in my grieving process that I accepted the loss, and saw the beauty in this pain.
Another incredibly important decision that has helped me to start healing was naming this child. After a sweet friend of mine suggested that we choose a gender neutral name, we decided to do exactly that.
So, we will forever remember this child as Hayden Christmas.
Because this baby is not an it.
Or a number.
Or just a clump of cells.
This baby is a life.
It pains me to think that I won’t see Hayden until my time here on earth is over, but I am also incredibly thankful that I will meet him/her one day.
The grieving and healing process is unpredictable, and I’m still riding a hormonal rollercoaster. But I remain hopeful, and if I’ve learned anything recently it’s that hope is a dangerous, beautiful, and powerful thing.