A year to the date today, I was sitting in a training for work at Region 13, learning, laughing, and planning with fellow colleagues. Our facilitator had just given us a break and I needed to make good use of it. A few snacks from the vending machine then to the ladies’ room.

About a week and half prior I had been feeling differently. I suspected maybe I should take a pregnancy test. So I did. And at the result of a positive—David and I and the girls rejoiced at learning that we would soon be a family of 5.

At training, in the restroom, our positive result flashed before my eyes. I felt stripped of joy. Jolted. Like the wind was knocked out of me. I freaked out at what I saw in that bathroom stall. I gave myself a little time & then I pulled myself together; I washed my hands & wiped my face. I talked myself out of what the worst could be. I stepped outside and immediately called the nurse line at my OBGYN. She ran through a list of possibilities and asked if I could make it to the office for lab work. I told her I’d have to figure it out with the training I was at, but that I’d try to come as soon as I was released. I went back to the door & I froze. I froze. My hand couldn’t make it to even open the door. Luckily, I had a few friends inside the training who I was able to text and have them to ask our facilitator to come in the hall. When she came out, my request was hardly audible through my tears. I managed to tell her what was going on & she advised I should really consider leaving the training altogether and take care of myself. I called David. I called my Pastor friend. I called my girlfriend. And I pulled myself together enough to make it to the parking lot and drive myself to the doctor’s office for lab work.

Hope. Kindness. True heart. Hope. Hope. Faith. Hope. Sincerity. Love. Friendship. These ring loudly over the memory of heartache of that season. These ring emblematic of the ones who surrounded my broken heart. These were what I needed to help me through the results of a declining level of hCG that was confirmed over the next 2 days—when the words “indicative of a miscarriage” pierced through the phone. These were what I needed to make it through a PD day at work where relaying my story time and time again to my team brought tears in office after office—resulting in my having to leave work early. To the sweet coworkers who were there for me during that time in the most genuine and unique of ways—I can’t even begin to say thank you. In the coming days I would share with my mom and sister, then family and friends as we were ready.

David and I grieved. He stayed home from work with me. We held each other. I cried. He held me. We both realized a feeling so many of our friends and family members had felt. Pregnancy loss. It’s one thing to pray with someone in it, but it’s another to walk through it yourself. We had lost a dear gift. It was hard. But we had each other. And we had the faith, the hope, & the love of the Father surrounding us through it all in His love for us and in our community.

October is National Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Month. In October 2018 the Lord had laid a deep empathy on my heart for women who had walked and continue to walk thru this. I remember praying for this population more than ever.. Not knowing a year later I’d benefit from the very prayers I prayed. For my friends who have walked this path, believe me when I say, I feel your pain. And for my friends who are in this season now, please know that there is promise for you waiting ahead. Stay the course. Be encouraged. Grieve and feel the feelings, but hold onto hope, too. Know that God’s plans are higher than those of what we can design for ourselves.

Two months later David and I found ourselves pregnant again with our Lauren. Babies born after a loss are called “Rainbow Babies.” She was my hardest pregnancy for sure, but we can chalk that up to quarantine. She’s the purest little symbol of hope and promise for our family. I love her harder because of the loss we faced. When I want to complain about the breastfeeding and the diapers and the midnight playtimes—I remember what it felt like to walk through losing her little brother or sister who is in heaven now. Trading in my mourning for dancing. My sorrow for joy.

Stay tuned this weekend for Lauren’s sweet birth story Vlog I plan to share here. I’m in love with my little family and our story.