October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month, and this year the timing was incredibly poignant.

There were a lot of things I’d hoped to do to honor our sweet angel babes this month, but this October required recovery, rest, and healing.

So this is what I have for you, friends: a thank you and a giveaway.

Here’s the deal. This post should be happening weeks from now, overflowing with joy and eager anticipation.This news should be shared slowly and intentionally with our friends and family, resulting in laughter and hugs, not in one blanket blog post. This isn't anything like the announcement I had planned for our third pregnancy. We’re once again begging God to let our baby stay, and we’re asking for your prayers.

Norah taught me that no matter what your journey looks like, moments of light will always exist.
Mom taught me to recognize those moments.
Lora taught me to slow down and give space to them, even the smallest of joys.

Friends, let us not ignore the flowers.

Our little wildflower girl. Yours is an untamed life planted not in any kind of mannerly row, but in a hidden, marvelous pattern known only to you and to God – impossibly perfect in its imperfection. No planter, no garden, no field is capable of containing your spirit; not even earth was able to hold you for very long.

These past two years since mom died have felt as if mom is simply in the next room, just out of view. If I look hard enough, maybe I’d find her. If I call her name loud enough maybe she’d hear me. See me. Find me. Help me.

The slower pace I created for myself in October allowed extra breathing room, and staying fairly disconnected from social media made it less overwhelming.

You’d think after three years situations like this wouldn’t affect me so strongly, but in the same way that we go from crawling to walking, grief also changes and evolves with time.