Asking “Why God?” after a Miscarriage

Asking Why God after a miscarriage. Christian. Sarah PhilpottWhy God?

Why?

Why!!!!!

How could You do this to me?

After a miscarriage, or any traumatic event, we instinctively immerse ourselves in this question, don’t we?

And then we find ourselves even more confused.  And full of guilt.

Is it okay for a Christian to question God?  To feel angry at Him?

There is one thing I want you to know dear heart– you are not alone.  Don’t be ashamed. You are not a weak Christian for these emotions.

I’m going to speak truth. This theological question is something most–if not all– of us ask.  And anger is something that has sprung from deep within most all our souls.

Grief causes us to question.  To search.  To dig deep in our faith.  To even…dare I say…doubt.

The asking can become an obsession that has no answers, can’t it?

Laura L. Mills extrapolates on this question in Mourning a Miscarriage on Today’s Christian Woman.  You might want to read Mill’s journey of understanding.

Can I give you a small bit of advice?

Take control of your life by changing the focus of your question.

One shift  that helped me weather many storms is to replace why with what now?  

Sweet lady, eventually you’ll find yourself at a place where instead of asking why you can ask what now..

I don’t know why I had two miscarriages.  I asked why for a long time.  But I don’t want to live a life living in what could have been.  I’m living in the what now.  I want to live life to cherish each day.  I want to use the pain I felt to help others whose heart’s ache.

And if not, He is Still Good. Daniel 3:1-24
And if not, He is Still Good. Daniel 3:1-24

I know that until I arrive in Heaven the why will not be answered.

Grief has taught me to question God and because of this, my faith increased.  But it wasn’t an overnight journey.

While your trudging through, don’t feel guilty if you need to shout, scream, and ugly cry at God for the next bit.  Dear heart, it’s how most of us begin. Eventually you’ll stop shouting at Him and start talking to Him and allow Him to comfort you.

And please know, if you want to speak to other women who are on the same journey as you we invite you to join our Loved Baby Christian Pregnancy Loss Support & Encouragement group.

We welcome anyone….even those questioning God.  What questions have you pondered?

Love and Blessings,

Sarah

 

 

 

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miscarriage, pregnancy loss, Sarah Philpott, 1 Samuel, Hannah

Hannah cried. She wept. Month after month. Year after year. Weeping. Sobbing. Tears spilled from her eyes. She couldn’t eat.  Her heart grieved.

The life-giving part of her body: her womb-was closed.

Elkanah, her husband didn’t understand her suffering. What’s the matter, Hannah? Why aren’t you eating?” (Samuel 1:8) He continually questioned why she was so sad and why she couldn’t eat. He didn’t understand the yearning that couldn’t be quenched.

A mother.

This is what Hannah wanted more than anything to be. Although her husband doted on her and loved her, his culture dictated that he must marry another woman so that he could have a family.

Hannah was unable to provide children, so he took an additional wife. Humiliating. Shame. Jealousy.

Then, as if her barrenness was not punishment enough, as if seeing her husband’s new wife give birth after birth to precious babies was not anguish enough, the new wife provoked Hannah. She relentlessly teased her.   But Peninnah made fun of Hannah because the Lord had closed her womb (1 Samuel 1:6).

Sweet, sweet Hannah-whose heart was already in such despair was now beyond tormented. Hannah was in deep anguish, crying bitterly as she prayed to the Lord (1 Samuel 1:10)

Hannah couldn’t eat; all she could do was lament her troubles to the Lord.

Psalms 13:12 tells us that hope deferred makes the heart sick, but a longing fulfilled is a tree of life. Hannah had a sick heart; her longing for a baby to cradle in her arms had not yet been fulfilled.

Psalms 13:12, Hope deferred, Sarah PhilpottHas your heart been sick?

Her story is like so many of ours. Those of us who have had miscarriages, late-term loss, or battled infertility can understand the longing of Hannah. Our hearts have ached, our lives have changed, and we find that others don’t quite understand the torment.

Sweet Hannah, who lived over 900 years before Christ, could probably sit with us and cry over a cup of tea as we recount our stories. I imagine we would have much in common with this female biblical great-who at one time was full of great anguish and sorrow.  

I cried, too. The disease of infertility was not my reason for sadness; I instead struggled with two miscarriages that occurred within three months of each other.

Miscarriage is common. At least 15% to 20% of all known pregnancies end in the loss of an unborn child before 20 weeks. Miscarriage is the number one pregnancy complication. Contrary to popular belief that a miscarriage is the effect of stress, heavy lifting, or something one controls such as caffeine consumption- a miscarriage is most often the effect of a chromosomal abnormality.  Over one million women in the United States have a miscarriage each year. Although it’s widespread, miscarriage is a life event often shrouded in secrecy, seeped in misinformation, and brings much sadness to a family.

Jenny, one of the many brave women who has shared her story with me, described a miscarriage as a life that was lost. Even though I never held those babies they were mine and I acknowledge them.

After my miscarriages I, like many other women, vacillated between periods of depression and anxiety.

Did you know that women are at an increased risk of these two psychological disorders after pregnancy loss?  I mourned the loss of two babies that I wanted to hold, embrace, and comfort. But I also felt guilty for mourning- as if I were  to blame for not being able to bring my child to term.

Confused and sad.  Have you been there?

You know what helped me?  Reading the account of Hannah in Samuel 1.   It  gave me permission to grieve.  It helped me stop feeling guilty for being sad.

The verses showed me that God recognizes this unmet longing for a child as a reason worthy of tears and anguish. Hannah’s despair is featured in the Bible. To me, this makes our sadness authenticated, makes it real, and gives us the ultimate permission to grieve.

It’s okay to be sad, and it’s okay to cry.  It’s also normal to cry out to God in bitterness.  

I invite you to turn in your Bible to Samuel 1.  Although I can’t take away the sadness, I do want to introduce you to a brave brave woman who felt the heartache and turned her anguish to God.

 

Loved Baby Journal:

Read Samuel 1. Underline the words in the chapter that describe how you feel. For example, 1 Samuel 1:10 says, “In her deep anguish” Do you feel anguish? Have you “poured out your soul to the Lord? (1 Samuel 1:13). Look back over the words you have underlined. Isn’t it remarkable how grief and sadness over an unborn child are universal feelings that transcend time?

Give yourself permission to pour out your soul to God. The priest, who watched Hannah cry, thought she was drunk she was so distraught. It’s okay to be distraught.  Grief must be grieved.

Re-read Samuel 1: 5. The bible says that Elkanah loved Hannah even though her womb was closed. God doesn’t love us any less if we don’t have children. Don’t love yourself less. Grieve over your lost child, but don’t feel as if you are not enough.  Invite your spouse or a trusted confidant to read Samuel 1 with you so they can better understand the thoughts that are permeating your mind. Mourn together.

Love and blessings,

Sarah

 

  I invite you to join the private, online support group  Loved Baby: Christian Miscarriage & Pregnancy Loss Support for Women.

Writing Through The Wreckage

Writing Through the Wreckage, Miscarriage, grief, pregnancy loss, Sarah Philpott, mourning

Mourning is an expression of sorrow. And sometimes our sorrows are so sacred that we don’t necessarily want to speak our inner thoughts.

And our sorrows stay put.  Simmering in our minds.

Simmering can be good.   A steaming pot of soup perched atop the stove.   Chopped carrots circling the diced potatoes.  Basil releasing its aromatic magic.

But simmering can also be bad.  Especially if words of negativity or sadness bubble within our souls.  Brewing.  Fermenting.

Do you ever let thoughts brew in your mind for too long?    Thoughts of shame or anger.  Thoughts of fear and disappointment.  Thoughts of sadness and longing.

Dear Soul, can I encourage you to do something?  To help release your pain.

Write through the wreckage.  Admit your pain.

Why write about grief?

Writing forces us to acknowledge truth. Even if that truth is painful. Writing gives us a place to process our internal dialogue. To make sense of the madness.  To grieve.

If you keep a closed pot simmering on the stove it eventually boils over.   The same is true for our thoughts.   If we repress our internal dialogue long enough we eventually erupt.

Can I tell you something?  Writing my stories of pregnancy loss was emotionally taxing.  It forced me to revisit painful memories that I would rather numb.  But writing my story- and owning my emotions- helped me move forward.

It gave me comfort to relocate my thoughts from my head to the paper.

It’s not just my miscarriages that I’ve written about, but tragic deaths of loved ones as well.  The paper was a safe place I could be vulnerable.  To speak the unspeakable.
This mere act of expressive writing is healthy for our souls.

The American Psychological Association has published research chronicling the healing power of writing.  In fact, expressive writing has been correlated with strengthening the immune system and mind.

So I am going to challenge you.  To help you mourn.  To help strengthen your mind.

I invite you to write through the wreckage. 

Unpack you mind and put the words down on paper.  It doesn’t have to be pretty.  It’s not a pretty story, is it?

So be raw.  Be honest.

But, your story also includes glimmers of humanity.  Remember the goodness that other people displayed.

The sorrow they showed.  The hugs they gave.  The  fact that you cradled a loved baby within your womb.

Write about the hope you have for a new day.  The day that you will greet your baby in Heaven.

Keep your words private or make them as public as you desire.  Share them with a confidant or tuck the papers into a secret place.

Don’t worry about grammar or spelling.  This is just your truth.

I warn you…you will write about things that are tough to admit.  Anger.  Jealousy. Bitterness. Fear. But you must acknowledge those emotions so that they don’t spew forth in an avalanche of rage or depression.

It might take you a few hours, a week, or even a year to finish writing your story.  You might not ever even finish.  Your paper will be tear-soaked.

Expect this challenge to be painful, but also expect it to help ease your mind.

If you want to discuss or share what you’ve written with other women, I urge you to join the private, online support group  Loved Baby: Christian Miscarriage & Pregnancy Loss Support for Women.

In this sisterhood, you can share with women who’ve walked and are walking the very same journey you have been forced to trod.  It’s helpful to connect with women in a safe community.

Would you like to read the stories of others?  Visit Don’t Talk About the Baby.

How can you write about your story? 

Use these prompts to get your mind focused.  You don’t have to write it all at one time.  Just write a bit at a time.  Perhaps, you are reading this and have faced a type of grief other than pregnancy loss.  Write through that trauma.  You won’t find the answer of why, but you will find out more about yourself and how you can find strength.

Prompts:

  • The day I found out I was pregnant I was so (happy, scared, surprised, angry) ______________.
  • I told _____________________.
  • The day my womb baby perished I felt so _________________.  I was ___________________.
  • Physically I felt ____________________.
  • Emotionally I felt ___________________.
  • I never expected pregnancy loss to be so __________________________.
  • My greatest internal struggle has been_______________________.
  • ____________________(person, activity, a book, a scripture) has helped me throughout this time of grief.

 

I know this is challenging Dear Soul, but writing will help you release some of the steam from the closed pot.  Suzie Eller writes a prayer in The Mended Heart that will help you work toward releasing the negative inner dialogue:

Dear Jesus, I have spent hours in my thoughts where I am angry, or I am the hero, or I tell someone what I should have said, or I put them in their place.  Today I recognize all of that as a trap of the enemy.  Today, with Your help, I shut the gate to the playground of unhealthy thoughts.  I put them down; when I start to pick them up again, remind me that they are a burden, and that You have more for me than this. 

Has writing ever helped you mend your heart?

Blessed are those who mourn; For they shall be comforted.  Mathew 5:4

Love,

Sarah

Live Free Thursday

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What Question Should We Stop Asking Couples?

What Question Should We Stop Asking Couples?

              So, when are you going to have a kid?

miscarriage, infertillity, pregnancy loss, Sarah Philpott

Do you want more kids?

Are you finished having kids? 

Why don’t you have any kids?

When we reach a certain age, these questions come directed at us with sniper-like speed, don’t they? They are asked by the sweetest, most well-meaning people ever: the little old lady who sits at the end of our church row, the older-widowed gentleman who is behind us in line at the grocery store, and the man at the party who doesn’t know a follow-up question to “what do you think of the weather.”

But, these questions are also asked in a taunting and teasing manner. You know the ones: “So, when you are you and Vanessa going to get that baby making started? Do you need me to tell you how it works?” ( wink, wink) says your husband’s business colleague in the middle of the company party.

Tisk, tsk, tsk. Neither Emily Post nor Amy Vanderbilt would approve of such banter as appropriate. I’m sure it is mentioned in their etiquette books between the chapters of “how to address a wedding invitation” and “how to fold a napkin.” To put it simply, “baby makin’ ain’t a topic for small-talk.”

IT’S JUST A SIMPLE QUESTION. WHY DO YOU HAVE TEARS IN YOUR EYES?

The reason questions related to procreation can be uncomfortable is because a large percentage of couples face the reality of infertility or pregnancy loss. For these couples, their heart’s desire and the timing of God fail to intersect at the same point. It can bring with it angst, sadness, and confusion. These couples have learned that creating a child isn’t as easy as making a dinner reservation, and they don’t necessarily want to share their personal details with the man standing behind them at the grocery line. It’s not that they want to keep this a secret; it’s just that they don’t really want to unleash real, raw emotions in the middle of Publix.

WHAT ARE WOMEN REALLY THINKING?

Let’s examine the thoughts of ten women when they are asked the innocuous question: “Are you going to have kids?” You can read how emotionally laden such a simple question might be:

???SO, WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO HAVE KIDS???

Woman THINKS
Woman SAYS
Oh, how I wish I could have more babies! But you know what- I didn’t choose to have that emergency hysterectomy that stole my uterus from my body.  
 No, I think we are finished.
We’ve been trying for two years & have lost four babies due to miscarriage. Yes, we want more babies, but it’s not working out.  
 We will see.
I check my temperature every day, my husband is on-call for when I ovulate, and I have seen 36 negative pregnancy tests. We would have a house-full if it weren’t for infertility. 
 We will see.  
I delivered a precious still-born child last year. I’m too afraid to start trying again. I’m not over that loss.

 

 We will see.
Yes, sir we do want kids. We have visited every fertility specialist on the east coast and right now I’m on my third round of IVF.  
 We will see.
Can you not see the dark circles under my eyes? I’ve been up all night for 13 months! I’m tired, I’m tired, I’m tired! My husband doesn’t help at all. I barely have time for a shower, much less time to make another baby.  
 We will see.
You are going to call me selfish if I tell you the truth. You are going to argue with me. But the truth of the matter is, my husband and I just don’t want children. I’m not less of a woman if I choose to be childless.  
 No, I don’t think so, but we will see.
We are researching adoption options. Just want to keep it quiet while my husband and I prayerfully consider the options.

 

 We will see.
I can’t just snap my fingers and get pregnant! We’ve been “trying” for a year. Nobody told me if might be hard. I’ve got an appointment with the doctor next week to find out the details of my husbands “sperm count.”

 

 We will see.
I’m eight-weeks now! But, waiting to announce until we tell my family. I’m so excited!!!
We will see.

As you can read, this simple question can trigger a variance of emotional responses for many women and couples.  Fertility issues are invisible burdens that many couples bear; we should acknowledge that possibility before asking such a personal inquiry.

I say, “Enough already!”

Questioning in the middle of the grocery store- not okay. Questioning over a cup of coffee during an intimate conversation- okay. Questioning in the middle of church “hand-shaking” time- not okay. Questioning in the middle of a private conversation at church-maybe okay.

We should definitely give grace and forgiveness to acquaintances whom inquire about such personal matters. Many have a motive of pure kindness and are not privy to inner struggles. Also, opening up to other people about struggles and fears can be extremely helpful; it is through conversation and vulnerability that we find out that others might have faced similar circumstances and might be able to offer us hope, wisdom, and kinship.

Those of us with fertility issues might also consider responding with the truth-  even if the question-asker is put in an awkward position.  Responding by saying, “Actually we do WANT children, but we have complications with fertility.  Do you mind praying for us?” Answering this way can be powerful, freeing, and makes a social statement that infertility and pregnancy loss are not topics of shame.

But as a society we should all stop using the question of children as small-talk. Only ask if you are prepared for a real answer and ready to provide a listening ear (or a slap in the face).  Likewise, let’s all  (men, I’m mainly talking to you) make a concerted effort to stop teasing people (mainly your fellow guy friends) about having or not having kids.

Readers, repeat after me, “I will stop teasing people about whether or not they have children. I will stop asking acquaintances if they want more or any children. Instead, I will ask about the weather or summer vacation plans.”

And we all say, “Amen”.

So, what’s your favorite small-talk question to ask someone? And, what’s your favorite way to answer the “Do you want to have kids?” question?

 

Blessings to you,

Sarah

 

FERTILITY FACTS:

http://www.cdc.gov/nchs/fastats/infertility.htm

Fertility problems are quite common. According the CDC, about 11% of women in the United States have difficulty getting pregnant or carrying a pregnancy to term.

Men are not immune: based on a 2002 survey by the CDC, 7.5% of all sexually experienced men younger than age 45 reported seeing a fertility doctor during their lifetime—this equals 3.3–4.7 million men. Of men who sought help, 18% were diagnosed with a male-related infertility problem, including sperm or semen problems (14%) and varicocele (6%).

           

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Choose Gratitude

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If I was to ever get a tattoo I would have the word cherish inked on my inner wrist as a constant reminder to be still.  Cherish is word that makes me stop and soak up the here and now.  It’s a word that reminds me to search for goodness.  

When my mind takes me down dark paths of anger, jealousy, or bitterness and I sense that my soul is about to get stuck in the quicksand of sad this one word brings me back to noticing the green of the grass and the blue of the skies.  It forces me to take my focus off the negative and instead search for the positive.

At times it can be challenging to find blessings to count. We don’t always have a choice as to where our anchor has been cast.

I don’t know where your anchor is sitting dear heart.  You might be here because you’ve just experienced a miscarriage or given birth to a stillborn child.  You might be having marital problems, found out your mom has cancer, or are living through the divorce of your parents.  Chances are you probably feel as if you are literally drowning in your sorrows.

You know what? Not a single one of us would have ever chosen any of the above circumstances as the place to set our anchors.  And yet here we are.  Tethered to the storm.  

But this “now” is the only place we have to live. The future and the past are completely out of our control so we must somehow navigate the tempest that whirls around.

Dear Soul… it’s okay to be scared of the storm.  To be mad at the storm.  To straight up hate the storm, cry out in anguish, and curse the swirl.

But we can’t just hunker down and pretend it doesn’t exist.  We must take action.  Search for blessings in order to protect your soul.  

Just think.

What happens when a hurricane approaches the shore?  That’s right.  People hustle to board their houses with lumbar so as to avoid severe internal damage.  They want to protect the structure.  Do the same with your heart.  Guard it fiercely from bitterness.

Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.  Proverbs 4:23

Can I challenge you?  Over the next week I want you to work on your mindset by cultivating a spirit of gratitude.

Each evening pause and review your day.  Search for three things to count as blessings.  Write them down.

2

These blessings might be small.  They might be insignificant.  They might be overpowered by the grief in your life, but still…write them down.

Anchor your soul in gratitude for what the Lord has done.  You might not be rescued from the storm, but you can look around for the beauty in the midst of the upheaval.

Grief isn’t something that easily passes.  The storm will linger and revisit you over and over.  Some moments will feel like a downpour and some moments will feel like a hurricane.

Hold tight dear friend; in the midst of the tempest choose to cherish.

It will help ease your soul and still your mind.

I’m on the other side of the storm now- drifting in calm waters but I still continue to seek out the beauty of the moment.

I know another storm will eventually hit.  Because that is life.  And I’ll still cry out and lament, but I’ll anchor my soul by searching for evidence of God’s goodness.  Will you?

My Gratitude Journal

What are you thankful for today?  

I’m honored to be a member of Suzie Eller’s #livefree community.

Live Free Thursday

 

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Where the Sad Girls Go, How To Love Someone Who is Depressed | Guest Blog by Jennifer Renee Watson

Where the Sad Girls Go, How to Love Someone Who Is Depressed

by Jennifer Renee Watson
It is a pleasure to introduce you to Jennifer- one of my kindred spirits.  I met this gorgeous minister’s wife, mother, and award-winning writer at a writers conference last February.  She politely invited me to sit beside her and we chatted up writing, lipstick, grief, and cheered each other on as we met with publishers and agents.  You are going to love her honesty.  On the Loved Baby Pregnancy Loss Support Group we’ve been talking an awful lot about depression after loss.  Read Jennifer’s take on supporting someone through the darkness. It’s one of those things people don’t like talking about in broad daylight.  Thanks Jennifer for taking the shame out of this affliction.
And if you want to join our Loved Baby community–please click on the above link to connect with other women who have experienced the death of their womb baby. And if you think you might be struggling with depression please visit the conclusion of the post.  I’ve collected some help-lines.  You don’t have to run alone.

 

The Lilypad“You don’t look pregnant anymore.”

I began to cry as we walk out of the doctor’s office.

“I’m so mad I could cuss.” I say, standing in the parking lot looking less pregnant.

“Do it.” My husband says, giving me permission.

“I can’t.”

“Then I’ll do it for you.”

And then he swears for me. I stand there in utter shock and then I double over laughing through the tears and say something snarky like, “You are going to split hell wide-open.”

We laugh through aching hearts and somehow I know that everything is going to be okay. We are going to be okay.

I think that is when I wrestled with my first encounter with real depression. Every fall it comes back and I wrestle trying to find words and look much like a Cymbalta commercial minus petting a cat and gazing out the widow.

I figured out where the sad girls go because at that broken moment, I was one of them.

I’m not sure if it’s connected to that time loss during multiple miscarriages, or just seasonal, but each year just as the leaves turn beautiful shades of orange and red and then finally let go giving way to winter. I become like the barren tree stripped of leaves and life, but it is still me, just the quieter version of me.

And in my head I go, that’s where the sad girls go.

Each year it becomes less of an issue, but I still go off–grid and have a hard time finding words. Even writing becomes difficult and I miss the more vibrant, spunky side of me. I stop making calls because I feel like I have nothing to say worth hearing.

The sad girls drift off inside of their head space and dream of brighter days. I feel so thankful that each year it becomes less of thing, but it’s still a thing. It’s real. But, I’m not sad. I feel hope rising to the surface of my heart because I know this will pass. It always does.

I’ve battled depression on and off for years and I remember thinking that my husband was strong enough to lift the dark cloud off of me. But, he couldn’t. Somewhere in my headspace, my winter months of darkness and bareness of joy, I wrestled with prayer and with God and stopped wrestling with others. My hands were up in surrender with the white flag raised, “God, If you can save me, throw me a lifeline. I’m desperate, I’ll take crumbs I don’t even need a full meal. I just need something.”

And God always came to my rescue. Sometimes it seemed like the sadness lasted for much too long, but it eventually left and my color returned. Laughter filled my lungs and a song spilled out from a renewed heart. When I couldn’t pray, I asked others to pray for me and had trusted friends to hold my hand on the journey. I never asked them to jump in my pit of despair with me, just maybe take me out for chips and salsa and give me a reason to change out of my yoga pants. And after the conversation became lighter and tears stopped, we would have a cake-date afterwards. Sometimes you just need to celebrate the small victories because if we can’t, our expectations might be a little too Hollywood, airbrushed fakeness, and not based on reality.

I’ve learned that letting others see my ugly and broken moments is receiving love when I’m the furthest thing from perfect. In the past, I wanted others to only see me when I was happy and living life to the fullest, but God has given me the truest friends and family that have been unwilling to leave my side at dark, broken moments. They love me just because, no strings-attached, no need to jump through hoops or fake anything. I just get to show up and that’s enough. Man, that’s nice. 

So, how do we love someone in depression crisis and soul funk?

  • Realize that it’s bigger than you. Ask really good questions about feelings and what they need from you.
  • Realize that if you are doing all the things that they “need” and it’s still not enough, take breaks for your heart and do whatever you can to not to go into crisis-mode with them. Someone has to be the strong one; Lord knows it doesn’t feel fair. But someone has to be the voice of reason and hear the voice of God if the other person’s judgment is murky.
  • If you feel yourself fighting so hard, fighting with your loved one as you walk on edge through the crappy minefield and look them in the eyes and say, “We are treating each other like the enemy when we are allies.” And join forces again. Keep reminding yourself that this is not who they are, but as they wrestle with change in their hearts, minds, hormones, and brain chemistry, everything is pretty much based on fear and a lie. The things that used to make them happy don’t anymore and they don’t even know why. That’s brutal.
  • Get help! You might need personal therapy, it’s so brave and should be celebrated, not an embarrassment. It doesn’t mean you are failing, it means you care enough to not give up. You need a friend that is sticking as close as a soul sister possibly can. Prayer journal, angry journal, or verbally barf on someone you can trust. Someone who can drop a truth-bomb like, “What is coming out of your mouth doesn’t line up with the Word.” Don’t let what you feel rule what you know to be true. Like, this too shall pass like a kidney stone with spikes the size of Texas, but it will pass. So, let me speak truth wrapped up in love and hold you while you cry. 
  • Figure out your default setting. For me shutting down emotionally is what I do. I’m working on it. When you feel yourself shutting down, ask yourself why. For me, my broken girl syndrome might emerge instead of the confident, godly woman that I have become. Anytime I felt backed into a corner, trapped, or embarrassed publicly, I would just check out and put up a wall to protect my heart. Or I would come out swinging. My default is flight, not fight. I hate conflict, but boundaries need to happen if someone is crossing lines and just expecting you to deal with it and be the nice one. Communicating is essential if you want to have something that lasts. Period. If you stop the lines of communication, you might as well stamp an expiration date on your healthy relationship.
  • When you love someone, you do whatever it takes to protect the one you love. A person in crisis no longer knows how to protect and cultivate your tender heart; they are focused on what they are feeling and what they need. So, it feels very personal and selfish. Try to focus on what you love about them, remember the better days and pray for better days to be restored.
  • Figure out their default setting. Harsh truth, anyone who is depressed doesn’t even know what their default setting is.So…there’s that. But, they do have a love language and things that fill up their tank.
  • Stop doing the same things. You need something to look forward to. Try to break away from your normal routine and do something fun.
  • Find a reason to hope and dream again, take your “wounded one” with you and live a little. No lists, agendas, or jumping through the hoops, just being together and chasing after joy and each other until hope returns.
  • Just because they are depressed doesn’t mean you have to be too. When I was going through my seasons of depression, I didn’t need my man, or friends, to join me and set up camp there. It was my depression and because I love them, I just needed them to understand, love me, and pray for me. Not push me or tell me I’m wrong for feeling that way. I never expected them to fix me, so it would be stupid for me to feel like I am the Junior Holy Spirit and able to fix someone else’s depression.

Guard your heart and mind and take your thoughts captive, it’s the only thing you are accountable for right now. I’m so grateful for a God that loves me just because I’m His and I’m enough for Him, even when I’m at my worst.

You are not alone. You might not feel Him, but God hasn’t left you.

“See, I have engraved you on the palms of My hands, Your walls are continually before Me.” (Is 49:16)

I get it, I know what it is like to wrestle with this and win. Don’t go through this alone; let someone walk you through this!

Much love and prayers,

Jennifer Renee

Jennifer

Jennifer is a self-professed girly-girl who is convinced that coloring your hair is addictive and has an undying affection for refined sugar and red lipstick. She is a mother of two miracle babies and an out-of-box minister’s wife. Visit her Blog for more inspiration and real-talk.

 

If You Think You Might Be Depressed:

The loss of a womb baby is a taboo, misunderstood topic and many women feel very alone in their grief.  Scholarly research tells us that women are at an increased risk for depression and anxiety after a loss- and it doesn’t matter the fetal age,  “A woman who has lost her child at 11 weeks may be as distraught as a woman who has lost her child at 20 weeks,” says Martha Diamond, PhD (Research in Nursing & Health).  My friend Cayci says- it was the hardest day of my life.

If you think you, or your loved one is battling depression I urge you to seek help.  Your Ob/Gyn will be the best point of contact.  Many, many women spiral unto this dark place after pregnancy loss.

Also visit the National Institute of Mental Healths Site.  They have a wealth of professional knowledge on Depression in Women including a downloadable PDF Brochure.

NIH explains that people with depression have different brain chemistry than those without the illness. It is nothing you have done and you don’t have to fight the battle on your own.  If you had strep throat would you go see your doctor?  If you were diagnosed with cancer would you seek a professional? Likewise, if you think you might be depressed you should also seek support.  There should be no shame.

What are the signs and symptoms of depression?

Different people have different symptoms. The NIH says wome symptoms of depression include:

  • Feeling sad or “empty”
  • Feeling hopeless, irritable, anxious, or guilty
  • Loss of interest in favorite activities
  • Feeling very tired
  • Not being able to concentrate or remember details
  • Not being able to sleep, or sleeping too much
  • Overeating, or not wanting to eat at all
  • Thoughts of suicide, suicide attempts
  • Aches or pains, headaches, cramps, or digestive problems

Love & Blessings,

Sarah

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Why I’m Not A Goat Farmer

    I usually write exclusively about grief and pregnancy loss on All-American Mom…but good grief.  Sometimes you just need a laugh.  Why I'm Not a Goat Farmer

We made it almost two months with our trio of goats, but today they were loaded into the back of a black pick-up truck and hauled away.

I consider myself a farm girl in the sense that I’m married to a full-time farmer. He’s a tractor-driving, overhaul- wearing, salt-of-the earth type man.

I like to ride around with him and enjoy the scenery.  I’m not opposed to hard work or getting muddy, but I’ve learned that I draw the line when it comes to goat manure.

I’m obviously not a full-fledged rural goddess.

Yep. That’s what my two-month stint as the proud owner of three goats taught me.

A kind neighbor man down the road gifted us the first two goats. And we acquired the third-goat- a one-eyed beauty I named Gypsy, after another neighbor learned we were running a goat sanctuary in our backyard.

We own a rather large farm, but I was determined that the goats should take up residence in our back yard.

“The kids would love it!” I exclaimed.

“They’d mow the grass with their teeth!” I coaxed.

My husband tried talking me out of the endeavor.

But I gave him a kiss and told him it would be just fine.

So, yeah. It is my fault the goats became our pets.

My husband built a fence.

My kids helped named them.

And we warmly welcomed Pickles, Brownie, and Gypsy to our backyard with a bucket of home-grown corn and a fresh bed of straw.

“Look Perry. Our kids have their first pets!” I gushed after we brought them home.

The goats climbed to the top of the swing-set fort.

They played in the water sprinklers with my kids.

We feed them ice-cream and peanut butter crackers.

I bragged about them on Instagram.

Goat

They were cute.

And my kids loved them.

But, have you ever heard the saying, “Don’t x#it where you eat.”

Well, the goats evidently invented that saying and it is their primary commandment for life.

You see, we’ve got about an acre of a backyard full of lush grass and vegetation.

We have a very small concrete patio. Yeah. The goats exclusively used the patio as their bathroom.

So every day I’d sweep. And I’d hose it down.

One day, while I was spraying the disaster, I realized I was wearing stilettos and cleaning up goat manure.

Those items don’t go together.

The goats quickly became a little less bucolic in my mind.

Then they started escaping their back-yard sanctuary. It appears we had chosen a highly independent breed.

People would come over for a visit and end up help us chasing goats around the yard.

Our kids’ babysitter even learned how to shepherd goats one night when she spied them out the window and feared they might not be able to swim.

It’s not that the grass was greener on the other side. It’s that the concrete perimeter around the pool deck was calling their name.

Have I mentioned they will only use concrete?

I sent my husband a scathing text message. I told him that he didn’t even need to try to fix the fence…we were finding a new home for those blasted goats.

So this week we wrangled the goats and took them to our front pasture to live out the rest of their days in the company of our llamas.

I told the kids we could still visit them, but that if they stayed in the backyard we would never be able to swim in the pool. They had a choice.

Turns out the pool trumped the goats.

Clearly we have strong allegiances to our pets.

Unfortunately, the llamas and goats didn’t coexist. It was a continuous game of chase.

llamas and goats

I think the goats also realized that the pasture was a concrete-free zone.

So they escaped.

And strolled into my front yard.

We have a stamped-concrete porch.

You get the drift.

Well, the goats almost lasted two-whole months on the farm, but this morning Pickles, Brownie, and Gypsy were locked in a cage and placed under the custody of the County Sheriff.

Goat Haul

He heard about their plight.

He says he came to rescue them. I say he came to arrest them for vandalism.

Whatever the case, the Sheriff is a real-deal goat farmer.

As for me…I’ve given up that title.

I’m a farm girl—but I do have limits.

Love & Blessings,

Sarah

 

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Why I No Longer Say, “Happy Memorial Day!”

Why I No Longer Say, “Happy Memorial Day!”

I’ve been guilty.

I’m a good patriotic southern girl with a firm respect for our military, but it didn’t hit me until last year that the words “Happy” and “Memorial Day” should never coexist in the same sentence.  

why I no longer say

I was at a family member’s BBQ.  A wonderfully kind and compassionate family member was gravely bothered. Someone had called her out for saying “Happy Memorial Day.” She was concerned she had offended someone.

I rolled my eyes. “Don’t worry about it. They are just being overly sensitive!” I assured her.

And I went back to watching my kids splish and splash in the blowup pool.

But I couldn’t brush the issue aside. And neither could my other family members. We debated and quickly realized the error of our collective ways.

For thirty-two years I  gorged on hamburgers, devoured home-made ice cream, and wake boarded and tubed all day long on the river. As a show of respect for the day my Dad always purchases a brand-new American flag to proudly display on our dock.

It is a day where we enjoy our freedoms. And let people know that we love America.

But I’d never really  paused to consider what Memorial Day is truly about.

The full gravity and solemnity of this day , the day set aside to honor the men and women who died in combat,  had somehow escaped my consciousness.

My Poppa was a WWII veteran. He lied about his age when he enlisted so that he could serve the great US of A. He was the youngest Sergeant General in the Army.

He never really wanted to talk about his time of combat. He once confided in me that still, at the age of 80, he’d wake up with nightmares. He was stationed on the European front. Normandy. The Rhine River. Concentration Camps. I can’t imagine the atrocities he witnessed.

My great-great grandfather was a WWI veteran. I have tattered postcards that he sent my great-grandmother while he was overseas. In one of them Grandpa Tite wrote that if it hadn’t been for a field of turnips he would have died of starvation. That’s right. He stole turnips from a farmer so that he could live. I can’t imagine the atrocities he witnessed.

A young combat veteran, who did time overseas in Iraq, recently approached me and told me how hard Memorial Day is for him. How immensely uncomfortable it makes him for people to thank him for his service. He’s home now with his family. But he lives with the vivid memories of his colleagues and superiors dying in combat. Dying to save him.

I can’t imagine the atrocities he witnessed and now can’t forget. “Don’t thank him,” he implores. Instead remember the fallen soldiers and their families.

He says, “Thanking a combat veteran on Memorial Day has always seemed awkward and somewhat hurtful.”

And then I see the images, floating around social media, of young widows- with clenched faces- lying on blankets atop the flower-covered graves of their husbands. Some of these women have babies in their laps- babies that will never see the face of the very father who died protecting all of our freedoms.

And just this morning I read brutally raw and honest commentary, published by the Chicago Tribune, titled I’m a veteran, and I hate ‘ Happy Memorial Day’. It’s powerful stuff. Read it.

I get it now. I’m sorry veterans and family members of the fallen.

I shouldn’t have ever said it.

I’ll say it all day long on the Fourth of July. I’ll thank you on Veterans Day. But today I’ll refrain from the word…because…

There is no “Happy” in “Memorial Day.”

It’s a day of TRIBUTE, REMEMBRANCE, & HONOR.

Memorial Day is a day where we should pause, pray, and give gratitude to the 1.3 million brave men and women who have died to protect the very freedoms that we are privileged to enjoy on this beautiful day.

So in addition to all the fun and revelry in which we partake….let’s stop and remember.

 

The National Moment of Remembrance Act

On Memorial Day, at 3PM EST, take a moment to stop.

It’s a time that is set-aside for us all to pause, reflect, and honor all the brave men and women who died in service.

 

 

 

 

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Pouring Blessings on a Baby: What One Inspiring Woman Did On Her Supposed to be Due Date

Once I spyed that pink line I typed in my information into Baby Center and boom…the day that would change my life appeared. I’ll never forget any of my four due dates…June 20th, November 9th, January 30th, and once again- June 20th.   My two mischievous children were both born as the hot sun rose in the middle of June.  But the two other “due dates”  go by with only a memory of what ‘should have been.’  But I’m comforted because I know that I have a new due date…when I meet these two kiddos in heaven!

But many women ask themselves, “What am I supposed to do on this day when I should have been spent giving birth or throwing a birthday party?”

Let me introduce you to watercolor artist  photographer, mother, and AMAZING woman Shalmai Keim.  Please read the story of her precious Silas Jude here.  It’s the story of her life-threatening  pregnancy.  I asked her to guest blog on All-American Mom blog because how she spent her time on Silas Jude’s due date pushes us to spend our due dates loving on others in spite of  sadness. 

I know you will be blessed as your read her words…..

Pouring Blessings on a Baby: What One Inspiring Woman Did On The Date that Should Have been Her Due Date

Blessing a baby on her due date.
Blessing a baby on her due date.

Today was a tough day. My heart is heavy and my eyes are swollen. Today was Silas’s due date.

If it had all gone to plan I would have three beautiful boys today.

Instead I mourn what would of been.

I had many moments today when I shut my eyes and I would see him. I would see myself holding him as a baby and what would be his toddler years. I would see his big eyes looking up at me and I would hear him say “I love you mom”.

Those little snips are so painful yet so sweet. It’s hard to know I will never hear him say those words here on earth.

I didn’t know how I was supposed to spend my day today. I didn’t know how I was supposed to feel or think. I braced my self for impact. After sitting on the bathroom floor (in tears) with my husband this morning it came to me. The Lord led me to the idea that I was to bless a baby boy born today.

I was to buy some cute baby boy stuff and take it to the hospital to bless a boy born today in honor of our Silas. I also got some thank you cards and special gifts to hand off to my nurses.

My plan was to just drop it off at the front desk. I didn’t want to go up stairs. But when I walked in there was no one there.

I paced the floor trying to find someone to help me but no one showed up. So I decided to head up and drop it off. I kind of remembered where to go.

The scent quickly brought back many memories. I walked up to the nurses station in the maternity ward and told them what I was hoping to do with the gift. As the words escaped my mouth, tears started to shed.

The nurse who I never met said “Keim”. She knew who I was. She said how different I looked from what she remembered. She called a nurse who had cared for me over and told her it was me. The nurse quickly hugged me. She was glad I was doing well and I just thanked her for all of her care.

I was crying like a baby this whole time. I said another thank you, left the cards and gift and said my goodbyes.

As I walk out of the elevator trying to put my self back together, I see my wonderful Dr. heading my direction. She asked what I was doing there, I explained, she hugged me, she held back the tears, and with words of encouragement she said to me, “You are so strong, what a great way to honor your son today.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Shalmai says of the above:

I wrote the story on my due date, March 27th, 2015. After I posted this I got contacted by the nurse and told me she gave the gift to a mother with a new baby boy. The mother left me a single yellow flower and a card. Later I found out that the mother was a single mom in not a super stable financial situation. So my husband and I felt like God led us this way to bless this new mom and her baby boy.

“This is the reason we do not give up. Our human body is wearing out. But our spirits are getting stronger every day. The little troubles we suffer now for a short time are making us ready for the great things God is going to give us forever. We do not look at the things that can be seen. We look at the things that cannot be seen. The things that can be seen will come to an end. But the things that cannot be seen will last forever.” – 2 Corinthians 4:16-18

 

  Isn’t her story brave? Isn’t it beautiful?  Isn’t it inspiring?

Maybe we can all follow her lead. I challenge you to bless another on the would-be-birthday of your child.

If going into a hospital is still a bit too difficult for you please consider these other ideas.

  • Donate to a child who is the same age as the one you lost.  Perhaps send a toy or book to a local school or church with a note asking the teacher to gift the item to a child in need. Read how one mom chose to honor her son- who would have been seven- here. 
  • Bless a living child by making a donation in your child’s honor to  Bethany Christian Services.  They are a leader in keeping families together through adoption and foster care.
  • Consider donating money to HopeMommies.org.  Their ministry  sends Hope Boxes to women who have experienced pregnancy loss.  You can even visit their website and have a box sent to a women you know who has recently experienced loss.
  • Help a woman facing an unplanned pregnancy by donating to a crisis-pregnancy center that helps provide women with options and long-term support.  One that I support is:
    Full Circle Women’s Services

Love & Blessings,

Sarah

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Being the Cheerleader While Your Best Friend Fights Infertility

I love to collect stories and highlight them on allamericanmom.net of how we can be a friend to others in affliction.  Meet my friend Leighann.  She hasn’t ever experienced pregnancy loss or infertility, but she did walk alongside as her best friend- Kathryn walked that walk and fought that opponent.  I think this is an important perspective for us to read.  This story shows us that friends feel shame when they can easily get pregnant and you can’t & that our friends truly grieve for us when we are down on our knees in the mud-pit of life.  Our friends are also our biggest cheerleaders. Thanks girls for sharing your story with us and showing us how to support, pray,  cheer, and accept that sometimes you’ve got to wait. And thanks also Leighann for filling my mouth full of cookies when I went through my miscarriages.

Being the Cheerleader While Your Best Friend Fights Infertility

being the cheerleader(1)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My best friend and I met 10 years ago at my sister’s basketball game. I asked if I could braid her beautiful blonde hair and the rest was history.

In the 10 years of knowing her, we fettuccine alfredoed a guy’s car, scourged bathroom wallpaper, survived bad relationships, ate unfortunate mounds of raw cookie dough, danced until we thought our toes would fall off, lived together in two cities, ran countless miles, almost got kicked out of intramural basketball games in college, survived a would-be human trafficking taxi ride, prank ordered every fast food chain drive-thru within a 30 mile radius, went on several road trips, and much much more.

We experienced life together – college, careers, engagements, new homes, and marriages.

You know what they say – first comes love, then comes marriage, then comes so and so with the baby carriage. I was the first to start pushing the baby carriage. When a positive pregnancy test confirmed my suspicions, she was the first person I called. She, in a panic, told her boss an elaborate story that landed me in a proverbial car wreck, and came straight over to be my person (for Grey’s Anatomy fans, I was Yang and she was Meredith).

Fast forward a little.

I had a one year old, and I was exhausted. My world centered around this little blonde headed, brown eyed boy, who kept my OCD on cartwheel mode. She and her husband were trying to get pregnant on their own without success, and I said “encouraging” things like, “Are you sure you want to have kids this soon? “ and “You should enjoy being married for a few more years” and “Go travel and take lots of pictures for me.”

More time elapsed.

I was reliving childhood memories at the zoo and aquarium and trick or treating and birthday parties with my two year old.

She was taking pills and getting shots from her husband.

One night I convinced her to go to a basketball game with me, but due to her strict hormone schedule, I had to agree to give her a shot. I sat in the middle of a girl’s locker room, watched her pull out enough drugs and needles to land us in jail, and mentally prepared myself for sticking a long needle in my best friend’s butt.

That situation, so common place to her after months of it on end, changed me.

It’s one thing to know what your friend is going through and pray for her and love her, it’s another thing to stick a needle in her.

More time passed.

My son turned three and a few months later I found out I was pregnant with my daughter. We weren’t trying to have another child. In fact, I was trying to figure out how to avoid pregnancy without being on birth control. I paced and prayed and prayed and paced, and then I called my best friend. I knew how much it would hurt her, but I also knew that she loved me and would put on a brave and happy face for me.

She wore that face well for 9 months.

She helped me tell my sister that I had a bun in my oven by placing a hot dog bun in her own oven. (You can imagine my sister’s confusion.)

She threw me an elaborate baby shower and bought me my first pandora bracelet with charms representing my children. She was there at the hospital when my daughter was born and again at home, binge watching my favorite shows right beside me while I breastfed.

Meanwhile, she was going through IUI procedures that were failing. I watched my friend start to crumble a little, in small amounts, every day.

And then I waged war. I had to fight for her when she couldn’t fight on her own. I became her cheerleader, the annoyingly cheerful and loud kind. I threw God’s word at her left and right, I sent encouraging messages, I quoted the prayers my son was praying for her, and I got my church behind her praying. I made God weird promises like “I’ll sing solos in church if you’ll give her a baby” and I frequently told the devil where to go and how to get there.

Another year passed.

My son was in Pre-K. He was learning to read and creating art projects that I proudly hung on my fridge. My daughter was a year old and making mischief at every turn.

My best friend, however, was going through IVF procedures. The first IVF round produced twin embryos.

She arranged for my husband to video my reaction as my son told me to call in at work because she was in a car accident. I called her immediately, and we squealed and cried and cried and squealed. I asked her politely to name her twins after me.

The next day, I photographed their special news. I made signs that said “future mommy/daddy” and “due in November.” She requested a picture with my son, her prayer warrior. She hung those pictures on a string in their would-be nursery and invited their families over to announce the big news.

A few days later the doctor called and said it was an unsuccessful chemical pregnancy. She took those pictures and a letter I had written to my future twin nephews/nieces and buried it in her yard.

I baked cookies and grabbed my pom poms again. This would not break her, I wouldn’t allow it.

She painstakingly went through two more IVF procedures unsuccessfully. After the third failed try, something changed. I found myself really angry with God. I gave him an earful and he listened, and then he started talking to me through her.

Somehow, this woman who had lived in an emotional desert for years upon years, renewed my hope again and strengthened my faith.

In her tattered uniform and pitiful pom poms, she had become my cheerleader.

Fast forward to present day. My best friend is now a mother to a beautiful, brown headed, brown eyed adopted daughter, and despite her choosing to forgo naming her after me, she looks just like me.

This is the first year my best friend won’t sit at home on Mother’s Day, avoiding church – the first year I won’t be sending her a message saying “I know God’s plan is for you to be a mother, just keep waiting and wishing and hoping.”

This year, my best friend gets to celebrate, and guess who will be there on the sidelines waving pom poms like a banshee? Her annoying cheerleader.

God has a beautiful way of reminding us that his timing is never our own. I knew all along his plan was to give my best friend a child, but I didn’t realize that his plan for her life also included me.

He wanted me to learn about faithfully waiting; there is a time for barrenness and a time for babies, but regardless, he still needs me to cheer.

Leighann Giles is a wife, full time mommy, and part time photographer.  She enjoys spending time with family and friends, writing, gardening, and working with her youth group at church

You want to help women on Mother’s Day?  Join the #HonorAllMoms Call-To-Action

Have you experienced pregnancy loss? We welcome anyone into our Loved Baby Support Group for Women & our Loved Baby Support Group for Men & Women

 

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Do you have a heart for adoption…but uncertain about finances? Advice awaits!

without debt

I just received a wonderful email from my English “mum.” I like to imagine that Carol was sitting in her newly blossoming garden sipping on Yorkshire Gold tea while typing the letter.

Carol shared with me a listing of scriptures she gathered for a talk she did to a group of mothers in Africa.  She shared them with me for the #HonorAllMoms campaign.

She wrote, “We can be spiritual mums, foster mums, adoptive mums, grand mums to so many people as well as birth mums. What a delight it is to serve our Lord in such a special way!”

I must agree! It is an absolute delight to be any one of the mothers she mentioned.

Some women are called to the special task of being a mother via adoption.

Did you know there are 143 million orphans in the world? I can’t even wrap my mind around that number. It’s more than the current population of Russia!

There is such a need for families to invite these precious children into their lives.

But, one of the biggest obstacles to answering this call is having the finances. Adoption can cost upwards of $50,000.

So how can you afford to answer this special mission?

Well, Julie Gumm can help you. This self-proclaimed coffee-adict is the mother to four children; two biological children and two siblings who she and her husband adopted in 2008 without any dept.   Read that again…”without ANY debt.”  Wow.

She is shares her knowledge with us in the new book, You Can Adopt Without Dept: Creative Ways to Cover the Cost of Adoption.

Whether you are considering foster adoption, domestic adoption, or international adoption this book will help you navigate the practical aspects- including finding an agency, finding grants, tax information, and creative ideas for fund-raising.

It’s an easy read that is chock full of usable, relevant information. She and her husband based their own personal journey by using the tried and true methods of financial wiz, Dave Ramsey.

Ramsey says of the book:

I receive calls on my show all the time about how you have to go into debt to adopt. Julie Gumm is living proof and a testament to the fact you can adopt without ANY debt. I highly recommend reading “Adopt Without Debt” if you are considering adoption.
– DAVE RAMSEY
Best-selling author, national speaker and nationally syndicated talk radio host

Pretty swell review, right?

I suggest that you visit her Julie Gumm’s website for a bit more information. She has kindly provided readers with a litany of resources.

And dear soul who is reading this post and knows that God has called you to grow your family through the action of adoption… I do pray that blessings flow forth as you embark upon the amazing journey of bringing a child-chosen especially by God for YOU- into your family.

I’ll also pray for patience…I hear you need quite a bit…it can be a long road.

And, if you are interested in the book….good news awaits!

GIVEAWAY ALERT

I have two copies to gift to two lucky families who have a heart for adoption.

This giveaway will end on May 12th.

You can have your name entered in the competition by:

“liking” the post on facebook

“sharing” the post on facebook

“commenting” on the post & provide advice for families considering adoption or telling me why you want the bookadopt

“tweeting” the message (just make sure you tag me…@SarahLPhilpott)

You name will be entered every time you do one of the above.

 

Much love,

Sarah

Have you experienced pregnancy loss? We welcome anyone into our Loved Baby Support Group for Women & our Loved Baby Support Group for Men & Women

 

 

 

 

 

 

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