It’s that time of year again. There’s something about Christmas that just feels different from the rest of the year; a tangible change in the atmosphere that marks the beginning of the festive season.
A very good place to start.
I believe that every story of new life is worth telling, no matter the number of cells, heartbeats or breaths. For some mothers, those precious, early moments are all we hold of our little one. Arms empty, our grieving hearts tenderly cradle the few memories we have. I look back on my pregnancy with nothing but pride. I am completely overwhelmed by the fullness of emotions as I remember tiny feet kicking or little hiccups rippling across my belly.
Some are afraid to ask about what happened, scared that they’ll cause more pain. But for me it’s more painful not to talk about it, to feel like I’ve forgotten one of my wee ones, to ignore the pregnancy that gave us two of the most beautiful little boys. Like any mother, I am eager to share with you about my sons, to share our story. To give even a small glimpse into the redeeming work of Christ in our family.