“…Each contraction left me feeling like a wild animal. My hands clawed into Christian’s head and neck and I wailed and howled in his ear. I was still shaking uncontrollably from the hormone dump in transition and I felt miserable. I felt like nobody could help me and each contraction sent me further and further into a frenzy of adrenaline and tension…”

“…And (almost with my mouth actually gaping open from time to time)— I’ve stood in awe of God’s goodness working in my life…”

“How will we ever be happy again?”

“How will I spend a lifetime without him?”

“My head is swimming. I feel underwater….”

“…unimaginable good things— even the best things— are still ahead for each of us.”

“How easy it is to believe in the infinite power of God and at the same time to feel that He is unable to meet our personal needs.”

“You’ll be aware of the bad ways grief has changed you long before you ever see the good…”

“If you’re not loving forward, you’re moving backwards.”

I’ve heard it repeated in church several times over the last few weeks.

And if I’m honest— this phrase bothers me…”

“…That means I will no longer lay at my daughter’s grave and wish for death— but I will trust in the Savior‘s promise of new life and through His authority over death and power of resurrection I can allow Him to raise my heart from the grave…”

“There is a line from the song that squeezes my heart. The singer quotes Christ as saying “Weep not for me” and then asks “but how can we hold back these tears?”

I have asked the same question so many times in my grief—If I know about the resurrection, how can I still grieve…?”

“After some conversation, my therapist suggested that perhaps a better definition of strong would be….”

“Giving birth has nothing to do with strength. Grief has nothing to do with strength either. And losing a child does not…”