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Finding Beauty In the Brokenness: Something Tangible {Giveaway}

One thing I really struggled with in the hard days of grieving over our loss, was that I had nothing tangible to remember this precious life with…yes, its days were much shorter than we desired, but they still COUNTED. There was LIFE that lived, and it shouldn’t be forgotten.

I had kept myself from the baby aisles during the first trimester, even though I was so anxious to start hunting for deals. {We had gotten rid of everything – and I mean EVERYTHING that even slightly represented “baby” in our home either through handing things down to other multiples moms and friends, or via garage sales. Who has room for 4x the baby stash? And we thought the door was closed on having any other children.} Now I regretted not having something. Just something that I had especially for this baby – an outfit, a stuffed animal, a blanket…something that said “we couldn’t wait to meet you, and loved you from the beginning”.  Brad had this desire on his heart too, but we just didn’t want to settle for a trinket.

The thought of returning to the baby aisle to pick something out now isn’t really something I’ve entertained, or been physically up to…but when I it became heavy upon my heart to write these “Finding Beauty in the Brokenness” posts, I came across my sweet friend Lisa Leonard’s necklace.

There it was…


Simple. Perfect. Unspoken. Beautiful.

I showed it to Brad, not knowing if he would feel the same, and as tears welled in his eyes and began overflowing, I knew this wasn’t just a piece of jewelry.

I texted with Lisa and in her kindness shipped one out right away.

I went to the mailbox, seeing her sweet logo, and held my breath as I opened the envelope. It was mine – a treasure to wear on my heart with a “5″ to remind me of this life that once lived inside of me.


A promise of a heart that will be made whole again…never quite the same, but restored.

I tenderly held it in my hands and sat on the curb as hot tears started to roll down my cheeks.

Beauty in the Brokenness…A heart that is painfully broken, but will be mended with God’s tender stitching. 

So MANY of you have shared your stories with me – your own heartbreaks and brokenness over a loss of a life. I’ve shed tears and prayed for you, and I wanted to give you something tangible too…so Lisa generously is providing one of these necklaces to giveaway to one of you. Our grief may be different in size or appearance, but I’m learning more and more that grief is a shared commonality. 

I’m honored to have this opportunity, so if you would like this “Beauty in Brokenness” necklace to represent the life lost through miscarriage, stillbirth, or death, please leave a comment, and I will draw a winner on Friday. (April 11th)

{If you know someone who you think this necklace may speak to, please share this post with them.}


Other Posts in This Series:



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Finding Beauty in the Brokenness: The Everyday



I’ve been upright for three days straight now, and still beyond thankful that I didn’t need another surgery to fix things. The fog is lifting, and I’m able to see clearer.

Brad and I laid in bed talking last night about a lot of the pain we’ve walked through and how we are processing things…which was the first time in a long time that we’ve been able to check-in with each other, and be able to talk about it freely without the physical side of things consuming all of our thoughts.

I’m seeing beauty in the everyday again.

In Starbucks cake pops. In sunshine. In being able to be there for someone else in a time of need instead of being the taker. In worship. In essential oils that make my heart {among other things} feel better. In being able to smile again. In listening to the birds sing. In a walk around the block after being sedentary. In the quiet after 4 boys are finally tucked in bed. In a weather forecast that is above 30 degrees.  

Healing doesn’t come at once, it comes in doses.


Over the weekend I made 2 meals for my family and I felt like someone should throw me a party. I mean, really?  Did you see that? I put food together, and put it on plates, and fed 6 people. When is my medal ceremony? 

It’s moments like these that we’re welcoming and celebrating the “normal” again, even if it’s not quite there or looks unfamiliar.

The thing about being empty is the consciousness of the good things that surround you, when you start being refilled little by little.


Other Posts in This Series:

Finding Beauty in the Brokenness: Books
Finding Beauty in the Brokenness: Bible Verses
Finding Beauty in the Brokenness: Music

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Cloudy With a Chance of Sunshine

A reprieve I had been longing for…
A happy dose of normal…
A break from the severity of the physical travail…
A promise of spring…
A hope that this cloud will one day lift…


And my heart rejoices in a couple of good days, even if they are followed by more difficult ones. It’s a promise that this winter won’t last forever.

Things are still “incomplete”, which means I’m on a heavy dose of meds for the next few weeks, and then a potential second surgery if things remain. This process has seemed a bit cruel at times, to be honest, but we continue to trust. We continue to wrestle the “whys” with the “who” – concentrating on who God is, over the unanswerable questions of our immediate situation that we have prayed desperately to be resolved.

It’s a tug of war of our hearts. What we feel vs. what we know to be truth.


People continue to focus on our emotional healing, and assume it is the reason we’ve been slow  to return to normal. However, the pain, the discomfort, and its continuation effects have been too intense for my mind to wrap around much of anything else. While I know that we have processed it to a degree, it’s been nearly impossible to not be consumed by the physical and how it effects our family.  Perhaps, it’s made the grief a little easier to bare by spreading it out, or maybe it will hit us even greater when this part of the trial concludes, but for now we have been focused on getting through the physical part of this hardship.


The ground is thawing. Peace is coming. Peaks of sunshine will mix with the clouds. There will be an end to this harsh season, and I’m so thankful for God allowing me to see a glimpse of the other side.


A few links that have ministered to my (and Brad’s) heart this past week:

Brad and I listened to this audio series from Mark and Sarah Vroegop over the weekend.  There’s much truth, honestly, and hope in this series that I would highly encourage someone experiencing the grief of a miscarriage, stillbirth, or loss of a child (or if you know someone who is going through this struggle) to listen to…   

I related to the words of this article, “And Then There Was None: The Miscarriage I Never Expected” , so much…

Moms are often emotional beings. We crave expression. But there is little time for us to do it. Moms must go on. There is so little time calculated into our days, weeks, months and years to grieve. It’s just not on the schedule…” 

And this..

“We are encouraged not to tell people we are pregnant until 12 weeks, but then 80% of miscarriages happen before 12 weeks. So we face this incredibly life-altering experience in solitude. We wander around our “everyday” lives with a broken heart that no one else is aware of. Some may wonder why I am putting something so private and intimate on the blog. And to them I say this: I share because I find great comfort in the love and support of those around me. And I share because I know with certainty that others after me will walk this journey and I want them to know they are not alone. I want them to know a sisterhood of strong and brave women has walked the path before them.”

And so much more…go read it. It’s so good.

And this one,  “Why You Should Never Stop Telling Your Story” , from my dear friend, Myra, is just so spot on with why I’m continuing to write even through the pain of this season, instead of just writing only the good. This too is part of our story.


Thank you for continuing to allow us a space to share our story, even when it’s hard. You haven’t ran away from supporting us even during this darker time, and we are so grateful that you have remained. We know you are praying, grieving, and waiting along side of us, and it’s been so encouraging to our hearts.

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