About a week ago, I shared a photo of my daughters on Instagram with the following thoughts:
“Lydia was sick yesterday. Louisa’s now the one not feeling quite herself. But, it’s moments like this that stop me in my tracks. When I ask Lydia to sit and read to her sister while I quickly throw a load of laundry into the dryer (gotta get at those germs!), and I come out and see this: it stops me in my tracks!
My husband and I prayed for this for so long. We believed for this for so long. We dreamed of Lydia having a sibling to do life with, and here it is. HEART EXPLOSIONS. Lydia loves her sister and feels sad that she doesn’t feel well. Louisa loves her right back and missed her yesterday, while Lydia was up in her room. That dynamic blesses my heart. The blessing of a sibling. Words aren’t sufficient to describe how thankful we are for our TWO sweet girls. The season of miscarriages was extremely difficult and those wounds are still there, but this moment feels like a victory.”
I felt led this evening to share this to a more broad audience than Instagram, so here I am, bearing the past of my heartaches with you all.
Having a second child, after our daughter Lydia, has been an extremely painful and drawn out journey for my husband, Luke, and I. Neither one us could have ever even fathomed the roller coaster of events that would come from the desire to have a sibling for our daughter.
We have walked hand in hand through a very dark season of loss. It began with one miscarriage, followed by five more over the course of almost six years, before we had our second daughter, Louisa, in 2015. During that time we also reached out to other options, by becoming certified foster parents as well as stepping into a private adoption, both of which ended in ways that you would expect to read in a dramatic novel.
As I’m reading the previous paragraph, I’m sitting here thinking: “Man, people must have thought we were nuts to put ourselves through all that.” All I can say is that it didn’t feel that way in the moment. All of these events took place individually, during our journey of hope that we somehow would be able to grow our family.
We hit walls of depression, of anger, of giving up. We found ourselves at counseling, and it was shortly after this that my husband had an epiphany that has changed the way I look at life difficulties forever. He said, “I’ve realized I need to stop asking God ‘why I’m going through something’, and instead ask Him ‘how He’s going to help me get through it.’ ”
My husband and I found ourselves in this place of noticing all the hurt and heartache around us. Every person on this planet suffers from heartache. We didn’t want to keep getting stuck with begging God to tell us why people go through hardship. We wanted, instead, for our eyes to see how God could help them, help us to get through it.
So, that’s some of my heartaches in a nutshell, and I know you too have so many you could share with me as well. I’m not going to even remotely pretend to have all the right words to say, and to always be confident in this life journey. I do know, however, that God is good. He remains the same from now unto eternity. He sees our heartache. He loves us. He is willing to walk with us through whatever comes our way. When the prayers are answered, and when they are not. God is the “how” that brings us through.
Love you, friends.