Sunday, November 21, 2010


I have been asked-
If you could have chosen for Jonasen to be a singleton so that you would not know the pain of losing a child, would you?

It's an easy question. One that I can answer without skipping a beat.

Jonasen grew with his brother. My heart grew for Jonasen and his brother. For them, I am thankful.

It is an odd thing to say that I am thankful, so I feel the need to clarify. I am not thankful that I never was able to see the color of their eyes, soothe their cries while holding them to my breast, laugh at them as my heart burst with pride... because those are things I will never have.

But early on in this journey, I made some conscious decisions. I decided that I would thank God for what I do have, because for twenty minutes on that fall night, the doctor had told me what I didn't have. He told me that I had lost them both. But he was wrong, and for that I am thankful.

I am thankful that Andrew and E have made me pause. I can see the beauty around me, and I know there is a God. And I know He has my children. Prior to being their mother, life went fast. They have allowed me to slow, to remember, and to be thankful.

For every second, every day, every moment that their heart beat in me was a miracle. I am saddened that for some they didn't even have that- though they dreamed of it still.

Driving home from church today, I was quiet. Thinking of all that I am so thankful for- my sweet angels included- when I thought of him. Wondered how he was. It had been years.

I remember hearing about it. A man had lost his wife and son. She had died in childbirth. I remember being at a loss. A complete and utter loss. I spent two days thinking about him non-stop and finally grabbed a pen, looked in the phone book, found his name and penned a card. I felt I had to let him know, that I was thinking of him, praying. Though my words seemed so small, I had to do something. I signed the return address, "A Stranger Who Cares".

Two days later, my phone rang. The voice on the other end was one I did not recognize. When he said his name though, my heart stopped. For I had just written his name on an envelope. After stating his name, he said, "You were wrong. You are not a stranger." As we spoke, I learned that he lived next door to a friend growing up. Suddenly I pictured a young blond boy with a head full of curls. I remembered.

He spoke, and I listened. Tears streamed down my face as he spoke of his wife. She was so excited. It was their first child and she was beautiful. Pregnancy suited her and she glowed when she entered the room. He remembered how she looked that morning, the look on her face. She was concerned. She could not use the bathroom and so late in pregnancy, she found it odd.

They went to the hospital and it was there that they learned. She was sick. Something was terribly wrong and there was rushing and efforts made. He stayed with her still. And then they told her. The baby was gone. He told me of the tear that fell from her eyes. He knew she'd be going too. She could not let her baby go alone. And she did.

I found it hard to breathe. The way he described- it was the ultimate love story. He spoke of how he imagined them together. He never did see his son. He could have, but figured he should stay with his mother, in the place that had been a safe haven for him for those days, months, and moments when he kicked, and grew and listened to their voices, felt their love. They were buried together.

And though his world had suddenly changed more than anything I could imagine, he spoke so highly of his wife's love for their son. In that moment, he did not focus on his grief, he focused on her love. He was so proud. He was so thankful. For she was grace, she was beauty, she was an amazing mother.

So this week, as I reflect and think about all that is good in the world. I think not of loss and sorrow- but what can be left in spite of it. I think of strength, of healing, of grace. I hope that it finds you this season.

And I hope that despite your sorrow, you can look to those heavens, know there is love- know they are safe- and know they are there- just a whisper away.

Thank you Andrew.
Thank you E.

You have opened my eyes to a grace that is given so freely that sometimes I feel that it overflows to those around me. You have made me a member of a community where I have met the most amazing and inspiring people. You have changed my life.

For the Better.

And for that, I am thankful.


  1. So heartbreakingly beautiful Laura. I am glad that you reached out to the man who had lost his wife and his son. I'm sure your card meant a lot to him and his words describing his wife's love for their son are very touching.

    I also could never wish for J to have been a single baby. xo

  2. Speechless Laura.

  3. I'm so with you on not wishing for Sophie to be a singleton. Like you, Brandon taught me how to pause, see the beauty around me, and enjoy every single moment I have with my loved ones. Experiencing both of them during my pregnancy was a gift in itself, a time in my life that I would never trade...
    Thank you for sharing this beautiful post. For sharing yourself to others.

  4. I am thankful for you and your amazing words! I can't say anything else....

  5. Always beautiful when you post! I love reading and this was a great post!! Thank you for helping me to keep things in perspective and to remember to be grateful!

  6. What a heartbreaking story and yet somehow reminded me of hope. I would like to spend the week reflecting on all that is good in the world too.

  7. Oh my gosh, tears!! My heart goes out to this man. I can feel his love for his wife and child thru your words. It just grips at my heart.

  8. Always beautiful when you post! I love reading and this was a great post!! Thank you for helping me to keep things in perspective and to remember to be grateful!


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