We had a friend over the other day who told Josh that she believes that praise is the weapon for fighting the evil one. I feel like I have been learning this over the past many years, especially after losing Hope. Josh and I made gratefulness what we desire to be about in the joy and sorrow we face.

Over the last many days, Daly has reminded me of praise. After James passed, I listened to the song, Goodness of God, on repeat. I was clinging to what I know is true of the Lord. We haven’t listened to it in a little while and Daly has asked to listen to it every day for the past few days. It is like she knows that I need to be clinging again. It is more challenging to praise when our hearts are hurting. These words from Psalm 31 are real and appropriate for our pain and point us to the One who can make all things new.

“Lord, have mercy on me in my anguish . My eyes are red from weeping; my health is broken from sorrow…But I am trusting you, O Lord. I said, “You alone are my God; my times are in your hands…Blessed is the Lord, for he has shown me that his never-failing love protects me like the walls of a fort.” Psalm 31: 9, 14, 21.

Trusting in the Lord is the only way forward. It is comforting that our times are in His hands. It is comforting that we are protected and have a hiding place. It is also comforting that He can handle all the emotions and all the thoughts and all the parts of me right now.

So, I am clinging. Again.

“There will still be love when the worst happens and when the hope doesn’t happen. There will still be love when everything’s crumbling, and there will be enough love to rebuild it. There will still be enough love to keep breathing, to keep believing, to keep being, and being brave.”

-Ann Voskamp, The Way of Abundance

I know there is enough love. God’s love is the only thing that is holding my heart still and helping me to remain.

There is enough for my heart. There is enough for this process. There is enough for my husband. There is enough for my daughters. There is enough.

Josh wrote me a note that I read this morning with tears streaming down my face. He wrote, “You are embracing our true pain and feeling what you need to feel while letting Jesus love you. Sweet girl, I know your heart is hurting.” His words mean more to me than I will be able to communicate. He is giving me full permission to just be where I am and to trust that Jesus ‘ love is enough.

He is enough.

Braver Still, JJ Heller

At church this week, I was sandwiched between a pregnant woman, who was far along, and a couple with a newborn baby, in a car seat, facing my direction. I looked up at Josh and he knew right away that we couldn’t stay in our seats. So, we left church. It was too much to bear.

Later that night, Josh and I held each other and cried tears for our sweet boy, James. We are brokenhearted not to have him here with us. And sometimes we just need to sit in the sadness and be sad.

I have been reading Psalm 27 everyday for the last week. It has spoken words of protection, confidence, courage and expectation. I am planning to read these words every morning. My prayer is that I would find refuge in the Lord. That I would run into his arms for protection. That I would have confidence that the Lord will keep me from harm and be with me in it all. I trust that the Lord will give me courage and help me. I can expect the Lord to rescue me. I desire for my response to be, “Lord, I am coming.”

Psalm 27 Living Bible (TLB)

27 The Lord is my light and my salvation; he protects me from danger—whom shall I fear? ² When evil men come to destroy me, they will stumble and fall! ³ Yes, though a mighty army marches against me, my heart shall know no fear! I am confident that God will save me.

⁴ The one thing I want from God, the thing I seek most of all, is the privilege of meditating in his Temple, living in his presence every day of my life, delighting in his incomparable perfections and glory. ⁵ There I’ll be when troubles come. He will hide me. He will set me on a high rock ⁶ out of reach of all my enemies. Then I will bring him sacrifices and sing his praises with much joy.

⁷ Listen to my pleading, Lord! Be merciful and send the help I need.

⁸ My heart has heard you say, “Come and talk with me, O my people.” And my heart responds, “Lord, I am coming.”

⁹ Oh, do not hide yourself when I am trying to find you. Do not angrily reject your servant. You have been my help in all my trials before; don’t leave me now. Don’t forsake me, O God of my salvation. ¹⁰ For if my father and mother should abandon me, you would welcome and comfort me.

¹¹ Tell me what to do, O Lord, and make it plain because I am surrounded by waiting enemies. ¹² Don’t let them get me, Lord! Don’t let me fall into their hands! For they accuse me of things I never did, and all the while are plotting cruelty. ¹³ I am expecting the Lord to rescue me again, so that once again I will see his goodness to me here in the land of the living.

¹⁴ Don’t be impatient. Wait for the Lord, and he will come and save you! Be brave, stouthearted, and courageous. Yes, wait and he will help you.

Lamentations 3:19-26 Living Bible (TLB)

¹⁹ Oh, remember the bitterness and suffering you have dealt to me! ²⁰ For I can never forget these awful years; always my soul will live in utter shame.

²¹ Yet there is one ray of hope: ²² his compassion never ends. It is only the Lord’s mercies that have kept us from complete destruction. ²³ Great is his faithfulness; his loving-kindness begins afresh each day. ²⁴ My soul claims the Lord as my inheritance; therefore I will hope in him. ²⁵ The Lord is wonderfully good to those who wait for him, to those who seek for him. ²⁶ It is good both to hope and wait quietly for the salvation of the Lord.

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After reading these words, I decided to write my own lament. This feels uncomfortable to me but also good. It feels appropriate to communicate with the Lord the state of my heart, alongside the hope that I have in Him.

So, here it is.

An organization called, Gone Too Soon, works with families who have lost an infant. They helped us to take care of everything after losing James, including picking him up from the hospital, his cremation, and a service. This was done free of charge. It was an incredible gift to our family. At the service, Josh read a letter that he wrote to James.

April 30th, 2019

Dear James,

My dear son, I write to you with such a heavy heart. I can’t tell you how much your mom and I love you. It’s crazy that we love you so much even though we did not get to meet here on this earth. I just wanted to write you to tell you thank you. This has been a hard year for our family. This has been a year where there have been great times and hard times. But James your birth is helping to remind me that our God does not change. I don’t understand why we did not get to have you here, but I know that Jesus is so worthy of our trust. James, you are helping Lindsay and I and our family draw closer to the Lord and closer to each other, and for that I am so thankful. I will never forget what your mom said the day after we lost you, she said “Josh this seems really harsh for us to lose another child, but I won’t let it take me away from the love of my life who is Jesus Christ.” James, I really wish I could hold you and help to reveal to you how much God loves you. But there is no doubt that you are experiencing the fullness of that love right now. I wish I could teach you how to play catch, how to shoot a jump shot, how to golf, how to laugh at yourself, how to dance in front of a mirror (your dad always gets made fun of for that). I wish you could meet some of my boys in the city who were really excited to meet you. They said they would make sure you didn’t wear Sketchers… But you know I would never let that happen. But I know all those things will have to wait. As I close, I want you to know that I get so excited about who you are with now. Our God, our king, our Savior. Would you also please enjoy the folks we miss so dearly? Our sweet Hope Elizabeth, Jonathan, Granddad William Goodman, Granddad William DeLong, Nana, Grandma Anita, Grandpa Cummings, Eddie, Dave Cox, Dave Meeks, and many more that we miss and love. James Patrick, you were carried in love, and you were born in love. We can’t wait to meet you one day.

I love you son, Dad

The Harkins Way– If you feel led to give to this organization.

We were driving to drop the girls off with my mom talking about how we couldn’t wait to find out if our baby was a boy or a girl. I’ll let you in on a little secret, we found out at our 13 week ultrasound that the baby was a boy, but the sonographer said that she was 99% sure, so we didn’t share that news with anyone. We were deciding how we would share the gender with our family . We weren’t planning on any huge reveal, but for my side of the family, this was going to be our first boy! So, we were dreaming of what we could do and say.

As we entered the hospital, I was thrilled to sit on the table and see our baby again. At 13 weeks, he was moving all around, waving, and making a huge scene for us. It was amazing! I had no idea what we were about to hear. Even after losing Hope, I never thought it would happen again. I had been praying and had asked family and a few friends to really pray for the 17th week, that it came with a lot of anxiety, as that was the time we lost Hope. And here we were at 18 weeks, about to hear the same news.

As the sonographer walked into the room, she asked a couple of questions and proceeded to rub the goop on my belly. She placed the wand down and began to slowly move it around and I knew. I knew right away. Something wasn’t right. Her entire demeanor shifted and she said she had some concerns and needed to get the doctor. I felt my entire body begin to quiver and ache and after the initial shock, I began to sob. The sobs were from my whole body. Josh held me once again in the most painful of moments. We were familiar with this pain. However, this time there were no signs. I had been feeling great, my belly was growing, my appointments were going well, we heard the heartbeat, we saw him waving. How could this be?

I am shaking and my heart is pounding with pain while writing this, but I know part of moving forward is remembering.

My OB doctor was called and she must’ve dropped everything to come and talk to us. She entered the room and sat in the devastation with us. She entered into the pain and we all cried. But not for long, we had to discuss what needed to happen next. There were two options, I could have a DNC, which we knew wasn’t the route we would take. The other option was to be induced and go into labor. We desired to do this in such a way that our son would be whole and honored. We decided on going into labor. This was going to be a different process than I had with Hope. I had signs of things not being right and my water broke. With her, my body knew and was responding. This was going to be a longer, more grueling process.

My doctor began the process with giving me medicine to soften my cervix. I was not dilated at all. She sent me home for the day and I was to return at midnight. We chose the sooner the better and that was the time that would work. We left the hospital and went to my parents house. We called my mom on the way and Josh shared what happened. Thankfully, Daly was at camp. We walked in the backdoor and my mom and brother, John, were waiting for us with open arms and tears running down their faces. Elly was standing back a little and she was looking at us with tears in her eyes and with a longing to understand.

We sat on the couch most of the day. Some words were shared. Josh’s parents, Pat, Betsy, and my Dad were with us now too. We cried together. We held hands and we prayed. My sister drove home from Harrisonburg.

I don’t recall most of the day. We tried to sleep, but that was really difficult for me to do. My head and my heart were in such shock and I knew I needed to be strong for the next 24-48 hours, or however long this was going to take. We were constantly reminding each other of truth.

It was time to go in. Josh and I drove over to the hospital together. We told the family we would call when I started to make progress. The nurse that brought us to my room said how sorry she was and she told us that she was our nurse when we came in for our loss in 2016. She said, I remember you. This was a sweet moment for me and I’m not sure why. I felt like her tenderness and memory was kind. And I needed kind.

There were so many ways that the Lord was kind to us that night. It was a quiet night. Most rooms that I passed were empty. There were no noises of a baby being born. They put me in a room that was in a back corner away from any happy noise that may occur. The nurses, even though very familiar with this situation, were so near to our brokenness. It wasn’t just another loss. Josh was close. He held my hand and looked me in the eyes with a tenderness that I can’t describe. My doctor was also close by, having come to check on me a couple of times.

I got my IV and so much blood taken and then it was time to wait. I had no idea how long this was going to take. I was induced and it was painful. I opted out of an epidural. I felt all the pains. It was actually worse pain than when I had contractions with Daly and Elly. The nurse that was taking care of me had recently gone through this (another way that the Lord was kind) and she affirmed me that the physical pain is intense. It felt like I was in full out labor but this time our baby wouldn’t be alive. There wouldn’t be skin to skin time, I wouldn’t be nursing, or changing a diaper.

It wasn’t until the next morning that our boy came. My mom and sister had arrived to the hospital. Mom and Josh had left the room to get some ice and water. SaSa was at my bedside. We were crying together. She asked me how the night went and I said I didn’t sleep at all but that I felt the presence of the Lord with me and was soothed by Josh’s snoring because he slept well. And she said, of course he did! And we both started laughing. My laughter brought James into the world. Again, in God’s kindness it was a moment of JOY that he came. It was as if the Lord was reminding me, through James, that in the most difficult of circumstances, he wants me to experience His joy.

The nurse came to take care of James and I now had to deliver the placenta. This part took longer and I had to push multiple times. My doctor was now there and we worked together to get it out. Josh, my mom, and my sister breathed words to encourage me. You are brave. You are so strong. We are here with you. They were Jesus’ hands and feet. Finally, I was done with this portion of it. I didn’t need to have surgery and I was now able to rest.

We held James. We admired our boy. He was fully there. We saw all of his parts still in the making. He was tiny. We all had time with him. We took pictures. We wanted to remember these moments, though so so painful. We chose his name because we loved the name James. However, his name was confirmed for us when we read James 1, which reads, “Consider it pure joy, my brothers and sisters, when you face trials of many kinds, because you know that the testing of your faith produces perseverance. Let perseverance finish its work so that you may be mature and complete, not lacking anything.” You are probably asking how we could consider this joy. The truth is we have to choose joy. We have to choose it. It’s not natural. It is not what we are feeling, but it is what we have to cling to. His joy.

As we sat with James in our arms, SaSa read James 1. We prayed over him and we said goodbye. A piece of my heart went with him. It is so comforting to know that he is in the arms of Jesus. Even though I long to hold him, he is where he is meant to be and he is well loved.

Thank you for reading James’ story. Thank you for entering into our story. We are grateful.

I’m so grateful for my husband. It is so important that we continue to live each day to the fullest. Even when things are hard. Especially when things are hard. It is crazy how much conversation is covered on a date night. We were able to finish sentences, look each other in the eyes, laugh a lot, and shed a few tears for three whole hours. This is important work in the healing. We had a blast!

I am realizing more and more as I continue to walk through this process of healing, that there was a significant amount of time after James passed that I was in shock and felt strong. The Lord was carrying me through because I wasn’t ready to enter into the reality of what happened fully. I wasn’t ready to allow myself to feel all the emotions that go along with our loss. The Lord allowed me to walk those early days of grief in His strength and I now feel like I am entering the next stage. The stage where the Lord’s strength is still present, but He is asking me to dig deeper.

It’s time. It’s time to keep putting in the work of healing, of going there. I have felt like over the last month, I have allowed myself to really sit with what we just went through. And it’s hard. It takes energy. It takes courage. It takes vulnerability. It takes time. This blog has been a tool for me to be thoughtful of myself and really go to the places in my heart that are deeply wounded.

Today feels like I wish I could fast forward to when it won’t hurt as badly, to when it’s not so raw. I also recognize about myself that I don’t like to live in the raw (I guess no one really does). I would rather this part be over. I would rather just bypass this stage. But I know that I can’t do that. There is something in the process for me that I can’t miss. There is something that is going on within me, for me, and hopefully for others, that I can’t just let pass me by.

I have quoted Lysa Terkeurst already in her book, It’s Not Supposed to be This Way. My sister, Sara, and my sister in love (as we like to say), Jessica, both recommended this book to me. And I am so grateful. She writes, “I want the solid rock on which to stand, but first I have to wait patiently for the Lord to lift me out of the slime and mud and set my feet. That word set in the original Hebrew is qum, which means to arise or take a stand. God has to take me through the process of getting unstuck from what’s been holding me captive before I can take a stand.” I interpret this to say that it is right and good to be in the process. That the only way forward is to work through what is real about how I am doing and feeling right now. She goes on to say, “but soon the process of pain turns into the promise of praise like no other.” I want to believe that this is also true. That the Lord will reveal Himself to me and this pain will not be wasted.

So, I am going to try my best to sit in this place and be OK with it. I am going to allow myself to feel all the things that I am feeling. I know it is an important part of the process. It’s just a really difficult part.

Terkeurst said, “we must not forget His presence in the midst of the process.” I do know and I do feel that the Lord is near. There is hope for today. And I am holding on tight.

If you needed to locate Elly while we were at the beach, you most likely found her with a baby in her lap. Any chance she got, she was holding one of her twin cousins, Evelyn and Beverly. She would ask, “I hold that one?” This girl loves her some babies. It was precious. She had so much love to give to them. One afternoon, we were finishing up lunch and we didn’t know where Elly went. We looked all around and then I saw her peeking out of the bedroom where the twins were napping. I opened the door and Elly looked up at me and whispered, “the babies are sleeping!”

This all made my heart explode with joy and at the same time caused a deep sadness. Elly would be such an amazing big sister right now. It almost feels like she was made for it. I don’t know what the Lord may have and I am not saying that she won’t have that opportunity, but it broke my heart for her that she will not be able to hold her little brother, James.

After James passed, we had a few conversations with Daly and Elly. Elly, who is only two and half, seemed so in tune with what was happening. I know there is no way she understood but she was attentive and seemed to say things that brought me great comfort. She would point to my belly often and say “baby all gone, baby in Heaven.” Her sweet little voice and her hopeful words were nourishment to my soul.

I am so grateful that Elly has her twin cousins to love and care for in this precious season of her being so infatuated with babies. Needless to say, we were all doting over these dear ones and it was refreshing for me to be able to love my nieces with a genuine affection for them.

I am sitting in a car port in Sunset Beach, North Carolina. It is our 36th year coming to this beach with my mom’s side of the family. This year there are thirty of us! It is easily one of our favorite weeks of the year.

Daly and Elly are napping, Josh is asleep beside me in a beach chair, there is a thunderstorm happening, and the breeze is delightful. I can hear the waves crashing and my view is of the ocean and dunes ahead of me. This is glorious.

Yesterday morning we gathered, all thirty of us, and sat around the living room of our ocean front house. Josh and I wanted to have a time to honor James with our family. It was hard, yet beautiful. It was painful to remember and relive it all, yet important. We all had an opportunity to mourn together. Josh shared our story of James’ birth, he read the letter he wrote to James for the service we had for him a week after he was born, he read scripture, and he shared that we desire to trust the Lord through this painful time. I am grateful for our family who listened, shared in our suffering, cried with us, prayed over us, and held us.

I am currently reading, It’s Not Supposed to be This Way, written by Lysa Terkeurst. She wrote these words, “…these seasons of suffering are not for nothing. They will grow you. They will shape you. They will soften you. They will allow you to experience God’s comfort and compassion. But you will find life-giving purpose and meaning when you allow God to take your painful experiences and comfort others. You will be able to share a unique hope because you know exactly what it feels like to be them.”

“Praise be to the God and Father of Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves receive from God. ” 2 Corinthians 1:3-4

I pray that God would use our story, our pain, to teach us to grow in compassion and comfort for others.