Shop the fall collection ➔

Before you were gone, you were here.

Before you left my womb incomplete, you were whole.

Before you met our Father up in Heaven, you were ours.

Before your body left mine, you nuzzled your way into my heart, leaving an empty piece that only meeting you in Heaven will ever fill. 

Before God called you back home, you were imagined, through and through. Every single part of you.

Hair.

Eye color.

Tiny toes.

Dangling fingers.

RELATED: A Mother’s Love Can’t Be Measured In Weeks

The way you would yawn.

How you would burrow your head under mine.

Hearts beating together, once again, in time.

The parts of you that would favor your daddy.

The parts of you that would identify with me.

Before our Father placed you in my womb, He handcrafted you—fearfully and wonderfully made. 

Your body may have only grown within me for a few weeks, but that doesn’t mean you didn’t matter, precious one.

You were imagined.

You were loved.

You were anticipated.

RELATED: A Letter to My Mama, From Your Baby in Heaven

Before you were gone, you were here.

Before you were gone, you were mine.

For, I know in my heart, the angel babies of the earth are the keepers of Heaven’s gates, and I cannot wait to lovingly meet you there, one day, to reclaim you as my precious baby, once again. 

Her View From Home

Millions of mothers connected by love, friendship, family and faith. Join our growing community. 1,000+ writers strong. We pay too!   Find more information on how you can become a writer on Her View From Home at https://herviewfromhome.com/contact-us/write-for-her//

I Had a Miscarriage

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood
Ultrasound image miscarriage

I watch the needle slide into my arm and feel nothing. It’s fascinating, in a way, this numbness settling over me. I wear it like armor as the nurse tries to make small talk below the tourniquet. I marvel at the sight of my blood, rich and deep red, snaking its way through the tube in my skin and into the waiting vial. I’ve seen that blood already today. Finally, I look away. I’m having a miscarriage. RELATED: A Mother’s Love Can’t Be Measured in Weeks Thirty minutes earlier, I’m in a darkened ultrasound room, my husband at one side,...

Keep Reading

Maybe I’m Just a Bad Miscarriage Mom

In: Loss, Motherhood
Woman looking out window

“Maybe I’m just a bad miscarriage mom,” I whispered to my husband lying in bed one night. We were at the end of a miscarriage and he had asked me how I was doing. My sincere response was OK. Not the OK on the outside but crumbling inside kind of OK. It was the not great but not horrible OK kind of OK.  But I felt guilty being OK because it didn’t sound like what a miscarriage mom should say.  I’ve had four miscarriages. The first was an ectopic pregnancy discovered before it threatened my health and life. Numbers two...

Keep Reading

10 Gift Ideas To Support a Friend Through Miscarriage

In: Friendship, Grief, Loss
Friend hugging sad friend

Most of us know someone who has been touched by miscarriage. Maybe it’s a friend, a family member, or you have gone through this yourself. Current statistics show that 1 in 4 pregnancies ends in miscarriage.  My husband and I, as many of you reading this, are 1 in 4. In 2018, at just shy of 20 weeks of pregnancy, we unexpectedly lost our son, Josiah. While extremely difficult as we were processing through our grief, we were overwhelmed by the love and support of friends and family throughout that time. Each person showed their love and support in their...

Keep Reading