8 months and counting…

Absentmindedly looking at our calendar this morning I realized what day it was; the 30th. I never thought I could despise a date so much, something as simple as two numbers marked on our calendar can destroy my entire day and send me reeling back in my grieving process. I’ve come to love months without this date in them, months that don’t scream a reminder of what we’ve lost at me every time I see a 3 and a 0 nestle beside each other. I don’t need that added reminder; not a moment goes by where I don’t long to hold you in my arms, your life, your death are unforgettably a part of me.

I know it won’t always be like this, I know one day this date will pass by without a second thought of the pain it once brought and we will celebrate your birthday without searing pain running through our hearts, but for now little one I embrace the pain, the anguish, the sometimes seemingly unending trail of tears that accompany remembering you. I embrace them because they are a part of me, a part of you and with great love comes great pain and Lord only knows how great my love for you is.

Let the 30th no longer be a reminder of your death, but of your life baby boy. And every month lived without you one step closer to holding you in my arms again. (Thank you Bean for that beautiful reminder.)

-Everett’s Mommy

8 short months ago today we held your precious body and kissed your tiny lips for the first and last time on this Earth. We said goodbye, knowing it wasn’t goodbye forever. We love you Everett Charles and you will always be remembered as our missing piece. 

Please join us in sharing your loved ones story and/or supporting those we have on the Forever Beat in Mine Remembrance Wall: https://www.facebook.com/foreverbeatinmineremembrancewall/ in honor of our sweet Angel born sleeping on July 30, 2015. 

He has Risen. 

I never truly appreciated Easter the way I do now, as a mother whose lost a child. I never realized the true depth of what it means to go on living without a part of your heart with you, but today, at church as Father spoke of Jesus’ resurrection and ascension into Heaven the true emotion and depth of His sacrifice all hit me like it never has before.

Jesus was sent to Earth to die for ours sins. He knowingly and willingly went through unimaginable pain and suffering so that we may have the chance at eternal life and the chance to spend eternity with our loved ones by our side. The depth of His sacrifice is not forgotten nor is the depth of Mary, Joseph’s, or  for that matter, God’s. I cannot even fathom watching your child suffer through what Jesus went through during his crucifixion; all the while knowing that His persecutors sins would be washed away by His sacrifice and they too would be granted a chance at redemption.

I am eternally grateful for the torment Jesus endured for our sins so that we may have the chance at eternal life; so that I may have the chance to hold my sweet Angel in my arms once more. I may have to endure the pain of living out the rest of my days here on Earth without a piece of my heart, but there is hope in knowing we will be reunited once more, hope through the sacrifice our Lord and Savior made for His people.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,

I will fear no evil, for you are with me;

your rod and your staff comfort me.

Psalms 23: 4

The King Boys

It was one of those days today where a simple conversation with a stranger at church brought me to tears, but for once, my tears where shed not for my own loss, but for anothers.

It’s the simplest of questions that often comes up in small talk, “how many kids do you have?”  This seemingly innocent question often makes you cringe and sends your head reeling with a thousand questions when you’ve experienced the loss of a child. Do I turn this pleasant conversation to an awkward end and tell the truth or do I lie and live with the guilt that accompanies denying my third born son that grew in my womb for 20 short weeks?

With a deep breathe and an aching heart I chose to answer truthfully and use the time I had left in this conversation to honor the life of our sweet Everett. Much to my surprise, the truth which is often met with an awkward apology and a swift goodbye, was greeted with the genuine love and understanding of two hearts that have shared the same pain. Not only did I receive validation for the increasingly aching pain I still feel 9 short months after losing our angel, but I helped to give another grieving Mommy the courage to speak her truth to a complete stranger.

I’ve learned so much from this brief encounter at church today and healed even more from it.

Loss Mama’s,

You don’t have to close your heart to the hurt that can come from sharing your child’s life. That pain, that isolation doesn’t have to be yours and yours alone to bear. There are so many other women out there experiencing the same anguish, the same mind numbing heartache just waiting for someone to reach out and help pull them out of the darkness even if just for a moment. So look around you and keep your eyes open for other women like you struggling to live a life without a part of their heart.

Everett’s Mommy

Loss Mommy Guilt

One of the most difficult things I’ve experienced, and continue to experience as a mother is Mommy guilt. 

As good mothers, we question everything, and I do mean everything, we do and say for our children because we want what is best for them. If we didn’t care so much we wouldn’t doubt, over analyze, or question anything we do for our children. Since the day our first son was born in 2012 I’ve struggled with the ebb and flow of Mommy guilt (whether it be self initiated or coming from an outside source), but since we lost our third born son in July of 2015 I’ve experienced Mommy guilt like I’d never fathomed existed: loss Mommy guilt; a harsh, unquenchable guilt that eats away at you and settles in the pit of your stomach and reminds you everyday of the precious life missing from your family.

Loss Mommy guilt is almost indescribable and makes me question everything I’ve done in honor of our son’s life since the day he was born still into this world: Is it good enough? Is it enough? Can I do more; why haven’t I done more? Why am I holding back? What am I holding back? Do I think about him enough, cry over him enough, miss him enough? The questions are endless just like my love for him. But deep down, in my heart and soul, I know that I honor him with every breath I breathe, but I continue to allow doubt, guilt, and grief to overshadow that love and stifle my voice, the only voice Everett has left.

Mommy guilt has kept me from writing this last month and has kept my heart bleeding along with my eyes. How can I heal and grieve at the same time? How can I be a beacon of hope for others like me when I’m still struggling myself? How can I give other grieving mothers a chance to share their stories if I’m holding back parts of my own? How can I fully trust in Our Lord if I’m still questioning they “whys”, “what ifs”, and “could’ve beens”? How can I honor the short life our son experienced inside my womb still aching for him to return? How can I be more, do more, help more?

But today, I realized, the Mommy guilt I carry for our son Everett is just like the Mommy guilt I carry for his brothers. I worry, question, and overthink because I love him and because that love drives me in all that I do. I will always reach for more, always question if I am giving everything I have to be his voice in this world, and always doubt myself in doing so because I care so deeply and love so much.

There are big changes coming on the horizon and I can’t wait to share them all with you.


Until the day we meet again I promise to always reach for more. To heal, to honor, and to move forward without you no matter how slow my steps become because honoring you is all I have left to give you in this world. Until we meet again baby boy.

-Everett’s Mommy