The Hargrove Home

On April 15th Kaleb and I lost what would have been our second baby. I've been calling this baby Little Bean. That's what it was-just a tiny little bean inside of me. I've tried to make myself understand it over and over again. A life that had no chance to be celebrated before it was quickly torn from me. So, this is my way of remembering Little Bean. 

This is so much more than a miscarriage. For me it's a miscarriage again. 

I wonder if I'm high risk and I wonder if I will ever feel God this close again. I wonder each week if I would have been showing yet or feeling the normal symptoms of a life growing inside of me. Was it the baby girl I've dreamed of or another baby boy to fill my home with more of Elijah's laughter? 

I tried to put on a brave face at the beginning. I talked about how lucky I was to not have carried it any further and then lose it. I talked about how lucky I am to be able to have Elijah. I talked about how blessed I am to be so young because we can try again. But to be raw and vulnerable like I said I would be-this sucks. It still burns a hole deep inside of me that I feel every time I see another woman announce her pregnancy. I am so incredibly happy for all of these sweet mama's who deserve the tiny ones growing inside of them but I'm still angry. I'm not even sure who to be angry at. But what I do know is that God is still good and He is still God. He reminds me of Psalm 34:18 and has put a new song on my lips. He has rooted Himself deeper in my heart, in the parts of my soul that I felt were too dark for Him to be near. He has shown me once again that He does not leave me or forsake me.

Elijah is my rainbow baby on both sides. He was the rainbow after a storm and the calm before another one. We'll see another rainbow again, a promise of hope and new life. For a mom who has experienced two miscarriages now I have to say that though many people believe we won't know each other in Heaven I have to tell you that you are dead wrong.  Like a friend of mine said, "You'll know their faces, mama." and I will. I'll hold my babies and kiss their faces. My heart is sure of it. 

I hate that I have to move on with life. After the initial physical pain had subsided that day, I walked downstairs where Kaleb was making dinner and just sat at the table feeling like I should be in bed all day, mumbling how stupid and unfair this all was. Some cartoon was on in the background and Elijah was running wild in the living room with his sweet laughter but I couldn't feel reality. I just sat numb in that moment. We cried through bites of pasta and for the better part of the night I couldn't get ahold of myself. I wept on and off for the rest of the night and still missing Little Bean comes in waves. Today has definitely been rough and I think it gave me the push I needed to finally write this. I'm not quite sure how you can miss a baby you never saw or held but you can and any mama who has experienced this could tell you the same. 

On a sweet and humbling note my baby didn't open it's eyes and see nurses or midwives. It didn't feel the cold air of a hospital or even the warmth of being born at home. Instead, my baby opened it's eyes and saw the face of the King. I didn't get to nurse it at the start of it's life but it did get to rest in the arms of Jesus. And somehow that's enough for me. I can't understand it and I'm sure it's not something anyone can wrap their heads around but here we are in this spot and walking this specific road right now. The rest of life is swirling around and I'm just here trying to hold it together. I will always wonder who Little Bean would have been.

"I will not cause pain without allowing something new to be born, says the Lord." Isaiah 66:9