baby cake

december 28, 2009 — we get pregnant while home in michigan for christmas.

january 16, 2010 — we find out that we are pregnant, in our bathroom, in the morning.

march 2, 2010 — i endure a miscarriage, in our bathroom, in the evening, when i am 11 weeks along.

this is not a long time-line, but it doesn’t require a very long time at all to start to love a life, no matter how tiny and incomplete, once it has been planted in you.

we named our unborn baby “Cake,” as in “babycakes!”, an expression we often use. besides, everyone loves Cake.

deciding to conceive a baby was a response to an invitation that we sensed God was offering, through the tugs on our heart-strings, a few prophetic words, and a desire to throw ourselves on Him for provision. so, when we got pregnant after only one “try,” i wasn’t surprised. it seemed so consistent with the speedy way God has worked in our shared life thus far; and such quick conception seemed like confirmation that we had discerned rightly in deciding to make a baby.

so, naturally we started to plan, and to work out health care concerns and save for maternity leave. we found a midwife and decided on a home birth. we told our nearest friends and family that we were expecting and enjoyed the genuine celebration that ensued. i ordered and faithfully took prenatal vitamins.  i even bought a couple small items of baby wear. my mom sent a Belly Book for me to keep a chronicle of my pregnancy. i ate more than usual, and more protein, even when i didn’t feel like it, to feed Cake. and many nights we would lay our hands on my womb and pray for our baby. at some point, i started to write letters to Cake, too, about what was going on, about what i hoped for her life, about how much i wanted for her to know jesus. i started being a mama.

i guess that part of the reason it is so painful to lose a baby, even this early, is precisely because you’ve already started to be a mommy to that baby. you change your diet, cut off certain commitments in order to get rest, and begin to plan out a life that will be safe and warm for that little one when she enters the world. you start to make all your decisions based around how she will be effected. so you fight for her. from day one.

which makes you pretty invested.

so we grieve. yes, we grieve for the lost life of a would-be baby, even as we grieve for the loss of one who has breathed. and this is not silly or irrational. it is very real.

and that grief, for me, has swallowed my entire body. in fact, it was physical before it was emotional or cognitive. a weariness, an aching emptiness, and a lack of interest in eating or doing much of anything else. and some days i keep repeating silently, “i am not pregnant. i am not going to have a baby. my baby has died.” and this feels more miserable than i know how to say.

i have lots of unanswered questions, about the physical and spiritual aspects of why such a sad thing happens. there is a high level of mystery around this that i deeply want to unravel, but never can. this will have to be okay.

but here is what i know: the Father is very, very near. it’s hard to say things like this without them sounding trite, but in all sincerity, He has let me FEEL His nearness in this in a very special way. even at the worst moments of the miscarriage process, i simply knew that He was there. i was not alone. and this has made more difference that i even suspected that it could.

and t… he has been perfect in comfort, companionship, and co-grieving. i love him approximately 3x more than i did before all of this. and that is a lot. Cake, in her fleeting existence, made us into a mother and a father, knitted our hearts even closer together, and turned our eyes to jesus.

and we are so grateful.


8 thoughts on “baby cake

  1. Although I’ve never had a miscarriage, I have friends and family who have and have watched the deep grief that comes with it. I’m praying that God wraps you in comfort and speaks tenderly to both of you in this time.

  2. love you brooke and tim – and im so sorry – it is soo true the moment you find out about the precious one growing in you – love abounds – that is God’s way.. so as you walk through this grieving, know that Jesus grieves too. we ve walked this same path. you are and continue to be special parents. praying for you tim and brooke, and i miss you

  3. My dear baby, I’m so sorry that you had to endure an experience that I always thought was the worst thing that could have happened to me. That it didn’t happen to me, and now has happened to you seems harder to bear than walking that path myself…I’m sorry for your pain and loss and that empty, longing place that now occupies space inside you and Tim. Your whole life view changed when you became a parent, and now your timeline for seeing the fruit of parenthood has changed. I pray for healing and peace for you both…and for the wisdom and openness to see the lessons you could only learn this way. I love you! xo

  4. Dear sweet Brooke, I am having a catch-up-on-blogs today and am so deeply saddened to hear of your heartbreak. Baby Cake, how precious. I know you know how to grieve well, and so I am not worried about you. But I wish I had answers, for now and for the future. Instead I can only bear witness to your loss and the confusion that we all feel. It doesn’t make sense. You are both outrageously loved, and I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that God will fulfill your hopes in a way that will blow your mind. Now, to rest and to breathe. I lift you up in prayer.

  5. Brooke, thanks for sharing this. Your heart is so tender. I imagine it is very painful at times and very sad. Our heart is with you. A friend of mine explained to me that he and his wife experienced miscarriage before each of their children was born. It was emotionally difficult on the mother, to say the least. I applaud Tim for his excellence in caring for you in your space of need. Stay close. I love your pick for a name!!

  6. Ever since I read this post I have kept it bookmarked, waiting for “the right thing” to say to you. After my father’s death, I am more aware that I have no magic words (kind of a hard lesson for someone so invested in words). I am thankful for the gift of this daughter who was used of God for so much in such a brief amount of time, and for the glory to God that comes from you turning to Him in your grief. And I am sad for you, too. Love to you both.

  7. Pingback: woulda-been 1st birthday « first the kingdom

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