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Confronting Grief

It was Easter Sunday and although we were a few minutes early, the church building was already feeling crowded. We squeezed into the sanctuary and made our way towards the family seating area in the corner. The main floor was quickly filling and my husband made a beeline for a row of available seats.

A few steps behind him, my gaze wasn’t on the empty seats but rather the row immediately in front of them. Perched on the theatre style seating were two matching car seats with a teeny tiny baby nestled in each one. Newborn twins.

My breath caught in my throat and I felt as if I’d been punched in the stomach.

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Nearer, my God, to Thee

Until I began maternity leave, I worked part-time as an admin assistant for my home church. Typing, filing, organizing, formatting, and editing, may sound like death by paperwork but I was in my element. I couldn’t have been happier. My favourite time of the day was first thing in the morning as I’d begin preparing for office hours. With fingers flying over keys and emails whizzing out of my inbox, I’d open up YouTube and let my little computer fill the air with worship songs.

The musical notes would soak deep into my womb and the boys would respond with leaps and flips. With a belly morphing and bouncing, the three of us spent daily time in joyful praise and adoration of the one who gives life. One of the songs in particular caught my attention and I would play it over and over again, the melody lifting high in praise, my heart soaring alongside:

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Finding Laughter Amidst the Grief

When it comes to picking out a gravestone, some cemeteries only allow for markers so as not to disturb the natural appearance of the landscape. A marker is a flat headstone, compared to upright headstones which are called monuments. The price of our 20×12 baby sized marker was more than the funeral and came complete with a granite base, name, date, a five word epitaph and three emblems.

I’m twenty-three years old, I should not have to know this. But I do.

Last week we finally went to pick out a marker for Landon’s grave. For eight months his little plot of earth has been marked by a plastic slip of paper with his name and the occasional flower or stuffed bear.

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The Twins’ Birth Story

It was Tuesday evening. I was 31 weeks pregnant (seven months) and had been on maternity leave for a week and a half. We had spent the week getting the boys room ready:  two cribs built, framed photos hanging on the wall, two carseats and a double stroller purchased and sitting in the living room.

Andreas and I were sitting on the couch, chowing through a bowl of noodles and watching an episode of Downton Abbey. But at that moment, not even Maggie Smith’s classic one-liners could chase away my growing sense of unease; a gnawing “mother’s instinct” that was threatening to build into an all out state of panic.

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6 Ways to Help a Family in Need

We were grieving the loss of our firstborn while spending all of our energy and time at the hospital with a preemie son. We were drained emotionally and physically. We needed help.

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