It seems almost surreal that my due date is just around the corner. It’s been many, many weeks since I lost the baby that was supposed to be expanding my belly to full capacity at this point. It seems like another lifetime that I cried, no sobbed, daily for the lifeless son within my body for 5 days straight.

I could sleep at night and would wake up thinking, “I can do this. It’s bad but I can handle walking this.” Then, by the time I made my coffee and sat on the couch, the sobbing would begin again and would last for hours as my husband just held me.

The problem, maybe, with making coffee each morning is that I would have to walk past the refrigerator. And posted right there, at eye-level, on the fridge was my 9 week ultrasound. The one where my son was very much alive and kicking. I couldn’t feel it yet but I saw it, I saw him. His tiny little developing body. During that week, I thought several times about taking that picture down. Packing it away – maybe for good.

But I never did.

Not sure why, but I never did. And actually, many months later, it is still posted right there for me to see multiple times a day. But I don’t cry on passing by anymore. The only way to describe how I got from where I was those 5 days in May to where I am now, is GRACE – the powerful abundant grace of God.

Sometimes we define grace as ‘mercy’ but grace is much more than mercy, it is “the power to do what I cannot do myself.” It is supernatural. It truly comes from somewhere outside of yourself to empower you within. From the day – it was a Thursday – that we got the news that our son had no heartbeat to the day – it was Tuesday- that we went in for a scheduled induction of a miscarriage was THE WORST 5 days of my life. The grief that encompassed us, the sorrow that filled our home was suffocating.

But then, hope would come up.

We believe in and see many miracles in our life and ministry. So we would pray – pray that God would do the impossible. Raise our little baby’s body from the dead. What a testimony that would be! But then grief would hit again. I called that season, “grieving in hope and hoping in grief.” Never denying the reality of a lifeless body within my own but also knowing that we serve a God that’s in the business of the miraculous.

That Tuesday morning we went in to find out if we had a miracle baby or if we would be proceeding with the induction was one of the scariest times of my life. I was hoping for a miracle but knew that we may not have one. I knew the horrors many women lived through with induction. You never know how long the process will take, you never know, if after hours and hours of labor, you’ll still have to have a DNC after all.

I was terrified.

But again, grace came. And miracles did happen – not the kind that would lead to me holding my baby after all but the kind where my God mercifully and kindly walked me through the process. A process that went “the best it could possibly go.” The nurse was amazed. After just over 4 hours into the induction process, I gave birth to my son. The water sac still intact, his little body perfectly formed though starting to wilt after being lifeless for probably several weeks. The doctor was able to pronounce, “it’s a boy” immediately.

Crazy thing was, as soon as I gave birth, something changed in my heart. The grieving didn’t go away but it changed. From that day forward, I would no longer sob daily. Once again, grace.

I would (and probably always will) have moments of being furious at the enemy of death that robbed me of raising my son but I would mainly live in gratefulness for the 20 weeks I carried that tiny boy. The son I prayed for… and was given. Of course, things didn’t turn out how I expected. But I was given a 20-week gift. A gift I will cherish for eternity.

The 20-week Gift


My Mom’s Miscarriage  

(Written by Dani’s daughter, Age 12)

An unforgettable experience for me is when my mom miscarried my little brother. It was only in May of this year.

When my mom got pregnant, we all thought it was going to be a boy because that’s what we thought God told us. But when we went to do an ultrasound, the doctor couldn’t find a heart beat. They sent me and my family to a different ultrasound place. That Doctor couldn’t find a heart beat either.

Every one in my family was devastated, we all cried for the next week.

The baby in my mom’s stomach was dead. We all prayed for a miracle. The next week my mom had to have labor induced to get the baby out. When it was over, the nurse asked my mom if she wanted to see the baby. And after thinking for a few seconds she said yes. The nurse brought the baby in. It was a boy – my mom was so happy but so sad at the same time.

Me and my family have grown a lot stronger from this but sometimes when I think about it, I cry. In fact I even cried when I was writing this a little bit. Even though this was a devastating thing, we also have benefited from this. My mom wrote a book and we have grown closer as a family.

Eight out of ten women will miscarry at least once in their life. Miscarrying is a very sad thing that happens to millions of women across the globe.

By: Robin Stroda Age: 12

Dani Stroda

I love the adventure of life - aspiring to live every day lost in the whimsy and wonder of the journey. I’m outrageously in love with my amazing husband who makes me laugh every day. I’m mamma to 4 gorgeous and witty daughters who delight me everyday. I’m overwhelmed by the love of our Creator and passionate about helping others find freedom and wholeness - body, soul and spirit. I am author of the book, Journey Through the Door, which released in November 2015. A good conversation, with a friend, over coffee is a favorite pastime of mine and you can join me over at to join in the conversation! Also find me at “Whimsy In My Cup” on Facebook.