2014 was the best, and worst, year of my life. And it was by far the longest.

I became a wife that year.

I also became a mother.

A mother whose baby was born in Heaven. A mother who wasn’t really a mother. I had no baby to hold, only empty arms and an empty belly, but I’d LOVED. I knew my mother’s heart had come alive and was at a loss now. All there was to do was wait.

Wait until I got pregnant again.

Wait until the loss didn’t feel so raw anymore.

Wait until I found joy again.

Wait until my arms and heart were full.

Every month felt like an eternity. Every time Aunt Flow came, so did the tears. There were such long nights, face wet with tears, just praying, praying for the waiting to be over, waiting for the baby my heart was longing for.

That was the beginning of months of anger, disappointment, feeling lost, and losing my joy. God felt so far away, like He wasn’t even there. It was the first time in my life I’d really understood the phrase, “My prayers felt like they were hitting the ceiling.” Crying happened all the time, driving in the car, at my desk at work, at night in bed. The pain was always just on the edge of my vision and every bad day and every hard thing felt like it was directly related to this. I miss my baby. I was deep in the pit and I felt like I had just crawled out when another pregnancy test confirmed that I was pregnant for the second time. And on February 28^th my fears came true-we lost this pregnancy, too.

This time I knew I couldn’t go back to that pit, to that darkness. I immediately started making plans, writing things on my calendar. “If I had a baby right now, I wouldn’t be able to do this or that,” I told myself as I penciled things in, as I looked up flights and vacation packages.

But it eventually caught up with me. You can’t outrun grief.

“Though He slay me, I will hope in Him.” Job 13:15

A few months later, after something I had planned to do in the midst of a ton of other things on my to do list just didn’t work out, I just burst. The tears came, hot and fast, as I walked out to my car, berating myself the entire time. Then suddenly in the security of my car, the words just started flowing. Angry words. Accusing words. All directed towards God.  “Why God? Why can’t You just let one tiny thing work out for me? Why?” I couldn’t believe how I was acting but at the time I really needed this honest outpouring with God. After months of trying to be okay, this ball of anger and hurt finally tumbled forth.

I had always believed that I would get married and have a baby-simple as that. That day in the car, I surrendered my desire to have a child to the Lord. I pleaded for His peace. Gone were my harsh accusations and questions of His character. In my soul, I knew He was asking me one simple question, “Will you still serve me?” I knew what He was asking. Would I still serve Him if I never became a mother?

Crying, I realized that I would. After being angry for so long and feeling so far from God, I was flooded with His peace and for the first time in almost a year I felt hopeful. I felt light. Maybe not quite happy yet but there was definite joy returning to my soul.

“I prayed for this child, and the Lord has granted me what I asked of Him. So now I give Him to the Lord. For his whole life he will be given over to the Lord.” 1 Samuel 1:27-28

Little did I know that day in the car that I was already pregnant with my son. Chase was born in February 2016. God had already granted me the desire of my heart. Every day during my pregnancy I thanked God for being able to have another day with this little one. My son has been an answer to prayer and I do well to remember this-every day. In November we dedicated him before our church and family and I found myself thinking of all of those months of sadness. This is not a journey that ends with “God gave me what I wanted” but rather a journey that has led me to an even greater appreciation for God. This kiddo is a daily reminder to me of God’s goodness, His character and grace, and that He does hear the cry of our heart and has a plan for our lives. It is a reminder that even in the deepest pit He is still worthy of praise.

*I just want to say that if you, too, are in the place of grief right now, whether it be through loss or infertility, I am truly sorry. There were so many times I read blog posts like this and envied the person that had crossed over to the other side-from empty arms to full ones, from grief to hope. My mother’s heart within me was wounded and I praise God every day that He has healed it. I pray He will heals your as well, friend. In the meantime, during the “going through” of it all, I pray His peace is Yours in such a special way. xoxo, Jen