“Day by day and with each passing moment, strength I find to meet my trials here. Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment, I’ve no cause for worry or for fear.” My mother’s melodic voice sang this comforting hymn as she rocked my small, 4-year-old frame. She allowed my tears to flow freely as I struggled with big feelings of loss and confusion.
After my parents’ divorce when I was 4, there was a settled sorrow in my soul. I had never had a deep bond with my father, but I longed for that. I couldn’t understand why he didn’t leave Indiana and follow us to California. It left me feeling unworthy of a father’s love and sacrifice. My brother and I saw him every summer for 2 weeks throughout our childhood; not enough time to really form a connection, but enough to cement confusion and insecurity in my little heart.
God graciously gifted me in music and poetry from a very young age, and I was able to express my hurting heart through these means. My mom raised my brother and me by herself until I was ten. She gave us unconditional love and was a strong and steady anchor in my life; in my world, she was my everything.
At 10, my world shifted. My mom remarried. It was a challenging transition for me. I had never been under the authority of a father (let’s just say I was strong-willed), and I had never had to share my mom’s attention and affection. In God’s mercy, my step-dad was patient and gentle, full of kindness and wisdom. He quickly filled the daddy-shaped hole in my heart and mended wounds he hadn’t inflicted. Calling him “Dad” was natural from day one. He made me feel valued, protected, and cherished. He became my daddy and I became his “little sweetheart.”
As I entered my teenage years, my parents helped me navigate first jobs, first loves and first heart-breaks. When I called off my engagement in college, my dad was the soft shoulder to land on. The realization that my relationship was not headed toward a loving, long-term marriage absolutely devastated me, but my dad’s calming reassurance that I had done the right thing was a balm to my aching heart.
About a year later, as I began life as a new college graduate, doubt over my salvation nearly crippled me. For the first time, I was out of the Christian “bubble” and my attraction to some things of the world caused me to question everything I had grown up believing. My dad sympathetically offered to take me to dinner and answer any and every spiritual question I had. No judgment, just love and patience. These dinners soon ignited my commitment to the Lord.
My dad was a fierce protector of my heart and interviewed anyone who wished to date me. In 2009, an amazing man sat down for one of those interviews and he passed with flying colors. In 2010 we were married in a beautiful ceremony and life was pure bliss. We spent the next several years adding little blessings to our family, and upon the arrival of our third child, my parents made the move from California to North Carolina where they bought a house four minutes from us!
In 2018 we experienced our first miscarriage around 7 weeks. For the first time I truly understood how painful a miscarriage is, both emotionally and physically. Our whole family was saddened, but we chose to praise the Lord in our grief and named our baby Hallel which means “Hallelujah”. The Lord gave us a healthy baby girl in 2019 and we were thrilled with our two boys and two girls.
In 2023 we found out we were expecting another baby, but ended up having an early miscarriage on Thanksgiving Day. Another early miscarriage occurred in June 2024, and in July we were guardedly excited to fall pregnant again. I immediately began keeping track of HCG levels and was happy to see then steadily rising. After two reassuring ultrasounds and intense nausea, I felt like I could rest and start to get excited about this baby.
My parents were helping me with my four kids quite often as my hyperemesis gravidarum (intense nausea and vomiting) often left me weak and unable to accomplish much physically. They were as excited about this healthy pregnancy as we were so they graciously stepped in to drive the kids places. My dad even made me every weird food craving I had, including purple pickled eggs.
In early September, my parents flew to California to attend the Joni and Friends donor’s retreat. While there, my dad checked in to see how I was feeling and if I was enjoying the pickled eggs he left me. He commented on how strong women are to go through pregnancy and childbirth and mentioned that he could barely even stand the kidney stone pain he was currently experiencing. We laughed, said “I love you”, and hung up.
The next night I got a text from him saying my mom had taken him to the ER for the kidney stones to some pain relief. He mentioned that the doctor didn’t actually see any kidney stones on the imaging so they were going to run a few more tests. I told my parents I would pray and fell asleep shortly after. This would be the last time I fell asleep without a current of tears for many nights. I awoke at midnight and instinctively checked my phone to see what time it was. Staring back at me was the following text:
“We just got the results.
We are coming home early.
He has pancreatic cancer.”
Just like that, my world came crashing down and I was beside myself with grief. I told my husband the news. He and my dad had a very special bond. My husband went to him for parenting advice, spiritual advice, and all things “fix it.” They even shared a birthday! That night, September 10, we cried ourselves to sleep.
I woke up on September 11 to the following text from my dad:
“My dear sweet girl, please don’t let this news hurt your heart. God is in charge and this will be used for His glory. Yes, it was difficult for me to hear, but here’s the thing, the doctor believes we caught it early. He said most people deal with the pain for a lot longer and then find out if they had caught it faster they could have survived it. I told Mom that God just wants me to witness to a bunch of doctors and nurses. Honey, I have hope. I don’t think God is done with me yet.
All my Love,
Dad”
My reply to him:
“I cried myself to sleep last night because I can’t imagine life without you. You have been a true father to me and such an encourager and biblical leader and friend. You are a wonderful grandfather and I want so badly for this new baby to know you and have a lifetime with you.”
My parents flew home to North Carolina on September 14. They sat the kids down and told them the sad news. We had a gender reveal party that same day to add a little joy and hope to an otherwise very hard day. We were thrilled to learn that our fifth baby was a boy! We hadn’t decided on a name, but we knew “Robert” would be part of it in honor of my dad. One of our greatest desires was that Dad would live to see his name sake born (due April 6).
Mom and I went out shopping for baby boy clothes after the reveal. We were thankful for time alone to process our grief over Dad’s diagnosis and to rejoice in the precious gift of new life to anticipate. We talked about how it seemed like such a kindness of the Lord to give us this little boy to look forward to in such a heartbreaking season. We believed that Dad would likely go to heaven right around the time we would welcome this little one into our family.
My husband and I had decided to switch my OBGYN care to a friend of ours from church. He understood that we would be cradling joy and sorrow in our hearts when the time came to deliver our son. He would understand our mix of emotions at appointments and we wouldn’t need to explain our painful circumstances. He kindly said we’d be welcome to bring my parents to every ultrasound appointment so my dad could see the baby.
On September 27, my husband was on a work trip so my parents planned to join me for my routine 13 week ultrasound. At the last minute, my dad stayed home, too ill from the cancer to travel. My mom, nine-year-old daughter and I headed to the OBGYN. On the way there, one of our favorite Barbra Streisand songs from Yentl came on: Papa Can You Hear Me? Papa was the name our kids called their cherished grandfather and my mom broke down in tears just as we pulled into the doctor’s office parking lot. I hugged my sweet mama. She said she couldn’t wait to see our little boy on the screen and have that joy to contrast the sting in her heart.
This was my first appointment with my new OBGYN and church friend. I was excited as I told him that we had chosen the name Robert Edison. We were going to call him “Edison” because he was a light in a dark time of our lives.
He lead us to the ultrasound room and said he’s meet with us after our scan. My mom, daughter and I were so eager to see our baby boy dance around on the screen. The tech placed the doppler on my belly and were met with deafening silence. “I’m so sorry” she said. “There is no heartbeat.” “Is God mad at us, Mommy?” The heart wrenching inquisition fell from my nine year old’s lips. I laid there with hot tears streaming down my cheeks as incredulous thoughts filled my head.
My doctor walked in, did a confirmation scan and immediately began praying out loud for us. This was a mercy among many. The Lord, in His wisdom and compassion, allowed me to be with our friend, a fellow believer, to receive the hardest news I’ve ever heard. God cushioned the blow with the presence of my mother and daughter; I was not alone. I remember texting my husband as I sat in the ultrasound room. It simply said:
“There is no heartbeat.”
My only option to deliver our son was a D&C procedure. The thought of my baby not being born in tact gutted me but it was my only choice. I remember feeling like I was drowning in sorrow. How could we have been wrong about this baby being a kind gift from the Lord? Why would He allow him to die in my womb? It was such a strange feeling to know that my womb now functioned as a tomb.
I went home and completely shattered and cried with gut wrenching sobs throughout that whole night. The next day, I sat with my daughter and reminded her of the story of Job. God was not angry with Job when He sovereignly permitted all of his earthly possessions to perish. God was allowing Job’s faith to be tested. As I sat cuddled with my sweet girl, I told her our faith is being tested and we must hold fast to the knowledge that God is good…no matter what.
My husband and I decided to change our son’s name to James Robert. We had been studying James chapter one and in the light of our trials, there was no name more fitting. He would be named James after James 1:2-4 “Count it all joy when you face various trials knowing that the testing of your faith produces endurance and let endurance have it’s perfect result so that you may be perfect and complete, lacking in nothing.”
James remained in my womb until my scheduled D&C procedure on October 1. The Sunday prior to that was the most beautifully painful day. As I sat in the church, unable to stop the pain in my heart from pouring out in relentless tears, I felt a peace and a comfort in simply being still before my Father. When I had no words to express my sorrow upon sorrow, He still saw me and He was still good.
By God’s grace, we were able to join our extended family the day after my D&C for our yearly week at the beach. My parents, in-laws, aunt and uncle and grandparents all came. Although Dad was weak and tired, it was a joy to be with him there.
His cancer progressed rapidly upon our return and although we initially thought we would have several months with him, by October 15 he was on Hospice care at home and on a high dose of pain medication. In God’s mercy, my dad expressed his love to each of us individually and we got to tell him what a treasure he was to us. On October 17, though Dad was already unresponsive, my parent’s home was filled with cherished friends. We filled in around my dad’s hospital bed, which sat in the living room in front of large windows, and sang hymns of praise together. What an act of love; to place themselves in our ash heap and weep and worship alongside us. What love. What mercy. This was an unforgettable night of heavy heartedness and heavenly hope.
On October 19, around 6:30pm, as the sky shifted from shades of baby blue to layers of pink and warm amber, my in-laws, husband, mom, brother and sister-in-law surrounded my dad’s bed. We laid our hands on him and sang “Day by day, and with each passing moment, strength I find to meet my trials here. Trusting in my Father’s wise bestowment, I’ve no cause for worry or for fear. He who’s heart is kind beyond all measure gives unto each day what He deems best. Lovingly, it’s part of pain and pleasure. Mingling toils with peace and rest.” Dad took his last breath and entered into the glory of the presence of Jesus before we finished the hymn. He had been a good and faithful servant of the Lord, a true lover of his savior and now his faith was sight.
Two days after my dad’s death, my grandfather had a massive stroke. His prognosis was very uncertain. We weren’t able to fly out immediately to California due to service arrangements surrounding my dad’s death, but we began to make plans towards that trip. After the memorial service in November, we all flew out in early December to be with my grandparents. My husband and I were keeping a secret as we flew to California; we had found out two days prior that we were unexpectedly pregnant again. This new baby was due around my parent’s wedding anniversary. We made our plans to announce the new pregnancy on Christmas day; a dose of welcome joy on the first of many reminders that Dad was no longer with us. Our second ultrasound, however, showed a strong heartbeat but very little growth. Our third ultrasound revealed no heartbeat.
For the first time, I felt angry. As my husband and I sat in our car, I cried and said, “I do not understand why God would give us this baby just to take them too. It feels so mean. We prayed every night for this little one and I feel like my prayers were completely disregarded.” Patiently my husband replied, “This is heartbreaking, but God’s character hasn’t changed. This is still somehow for our good. Our prayers have not gone unanswered and He is still nothing but kind.” That day, I texted two of my most trustworthy, godly friends. I told them honestly that I was struggling with anger and immense grief. Those precious sisters in Christ did not rebuke me. They spoke Truth softly to my wounded heart. Later that week I posted this on Instagram:
“Sometimes we feel like David, ready take on Goliath and other days we are like Moses, in desperate need of an Aaron to uphold our weary arms. This is Grief.”
We named our baby Kinah which means “lament”. What a tender gift lamenting is. Biblically speaking, a Psalm of lament is an outpouring of honest sorrows before the Lord followed by reiterating the goodness of God and ultimately finding a resting place in His care. God is not removed from our sorrows, nor are they hidden from Him. He is a good Father that desires us to approach Him in our weakness; to confess our fears and anger and to run fully into His embrace.
I can now praise my Lord with a heart of trust that I could not have, had He withheld these trials from me. I have walked in dark valleys and He has walked beside me. As a loving Father, He does not chastise my tears, but rather comforts me in my weeping. Therefore I will count it all joy when I encounter various trials, reminding my weary heart that He is wise and I have no cause for worry or for fear. He will sustain me. Day by day.
What Scripture did you cling to on the hardest days and nights?
James 1, Psalm 116, Colossians 3:16, Job 1:20-22
What Hymns or songs comforted you?
What did people do that ministered to you?
*These are just a handful of unique things that stood out to me.
What should people Not say or do to others in similar circumstances?
What hope has Jesus given you in your losses?
Jesus has been my one steady solace. When you face sudden losses, it’s easy to start to fear that anything and everything you love will be taken from you. I had fears of any of my family members being out of my sight after my dad’s diagnosis and son’s death. The Lord was my calming refuge. When I felt overwhelmed, I would seek Him in prayer and He would lay Truth upon my heart. I also have hope that I will see my Dad and my 5 miscarried babies in Heaven because of Jesus’ sacrifice.
How has Hope in the Mourning Encouraged You?
As the compiler of Hope in the Mourning, I remember feeling unworthy to be entrusted with these powerful stories. I wondered if my faith would stand up to such tests as the authors’ had. When my season of suffering arrived, the authors lovingly surrounded me with encouragement. God used these stories to help equip me to tether my hope to Christ. I’m honored to call all of the authors my friends and brothers and sisters in Christ.