07/22/2026
I was listening to music while cleaning this morning and I started feeling like I should share something that I've only told a handful of people before.
Some of you who know me in real life know that we lost our son back in February of 2024. That period in time was unimaginably difficult. Even now, writing this, I physically feel the ache.
I don't talk about my faith much on here, this page is really just for my farm. But I got to thinking this morning that maybe someone who follows my page or happens to see this pushed on the algorithm might need to hear something.
You are precious. You are loved. I love you. That doesn't mean people will always approve of your choices, no one can approve of everything anyone else does, in reality. But you are loved.
Laying in the hospital room after delivering our baby was the only time I felt I could drop all pretenses and grieve my boy. I didn't have to be strong and keep it together. I didn't have to worry about finding something funny and laughing, perhaps giving the impression to anyone passing by that I wasn't deeply deeply heartbroken. At night, I could walk to the infant cooling bed they had set up in my room, and take my sweet baby back to bed with me to rock him and sing. That was our time. I stayed three days in the hospital, solely so that I could have those nights with him. I knew I would never get more time to hold him, sing to him, or rock him, as I did all of our other babies. As I broke down and got his little blanket damp with tears, I had the gentle gradual sensation that I was being held, too. Like someone was holding me as I cried and rocked just like I was holding my son. I am firmly convinced that was Jesus. He held me. There wasn't any voice to break the silence I needed, there weren't any grand lights or visions or anything like that, just a soft sense of comfort in not being alone and being loved through the wreckage.
I felt it again when the woman in the room next to mine was getting ready to deliver her own baby. I could hear and identify the different stages she went through since I had just went through my fourth childbirth. When her baby took its first breath and cried, my husband and I both stopped and looked at each other and smiled. Bittersweet is still sweet. Sometimes the answer to your prayers isn't yes, even when you desperately wish it was... But there is still light and love and wonderful things in the world... "Perfect" doesn't exist, but "beautiful" sure does.
I felt like I was tearing out my own heart when I laid him in the baby bed the funeral home brought to the hospital. Honestly, I don't think I was ready. I needed more time. But I felt that love again, helping me through the moment, along with my husband's love. We both cried when our baby went out the door without us. But remembering that Jesus was right there with me and knew what I was going through exactly, helped...
Getting home from the hospital and recovering from childbirth without my baby was... There really just aren't words for it... But still, when I least expected it, I felt that comfort again. Maybe I was just laying attention. I don't know. But I sure needed it. And remembering it has gotten me through other heartbreaks that followed.
Maybe you're going through something really really hard. Maybe it's just life wearing on you. Maybe you're just feeling unloved.
I hope that you are able to accept the love of Christ. There is no peace greater than that.
If you haven't accepted Christ, or maybe you have and then feel as if He's not with you anymore or even that He's turned His back on you and your needs, I hope you reconsider. Some people struggle in life, it's true. Some people have horrible things happen or they see things no one should ever see, in a perfect world. But we don't live in a perfect world, yet. The next best thing is to be loved through it by the One who loves you the most...
