Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Struck down, but not destroyed.

I contemplated all day about whether or not I was going to post this. On one hand it is personal, vulnerable, and heartbreaking. On the other hand, I strongly believe we are called to be transparent. I've always tried to be transparent. If I think that maybe, MAYBE it can help somebody, then I will choose to get real and raw, even if it's ugly.

I've wanted a big family for as long as I can remember. Four before 30 is my goal. Yes, I'm a lunatic, but my dreams are filled with a full house, crayon on the walls, Cheerios on the carpet, snuggles everywhere. Before Brielle was even born, Jake and I knew we would start trying for another baby the summer after she turned one. So in May, I was so elated to see two beautiful pink lines on a pregnancy test. We told close friends and family, bought Brie a big sis shirt, the whole shebang.

A week later while in Cambria for a wedding, I started bleeding. We headed to the ER and confirmed that I was miscarrying. We were devastated. So sad, angry, and confused. It was a really, really bad day. But I immediately channeled all of my energy into the hope of trying again in a couple months. Miscarriages are normal, and it would all be ok. Jake and I can pretty much conceive a kid by looking at each other, so I knew I would get pregnant again soon. I was worried of course, but I had faith we would be fine.

After struggling with anger and confusion for two months, I received a very happy birthday present. Two pink lines. Again. I was so so SO happy. I praised God for giving us our sweet rainbow baby. I cried, and laughed, and began talking names, nurseries, and showers. I felt pregnant, which was such a comfort. My pregnancy in May left me with no symptoms at all, which had me worried from the beginning. I was still nervous, but I was confident. Surely it was our time. I still yearned for the baby that we lost, but I felt so hopeful in the promise of the sweet baby growing inside me.

Five days later I woke up to blood. The day before, I just knew. My symptoms were dwindling, and I could tell something was wrong. But even though I knew, I couldn't believe what I was seeing. Not again. Not another baby. My heart was shattered. I woke Jake up with the news, then remained in bed so numb. Not another baby.

One miscarriage is devastating. Its frustrating, and confusing, and so sad. Two miscarriages is terrifying. I am so scared. Im afraid that something is wrong with me. I'm afraid of an inability to grow my beautiful family. I feel the weight of it all pressed on my body, my body that has failed me. When we lost the first precious baby, it was easy to blame it on nature. Something must have been wrong with the baby. My body was just doing what it needed to do to rid itself of something that wouldn't have been able to thrive anyways. Two miscarriage leave me with nothing and nobody to blame but myself. We don't know why my body is doing what is doing, but we are working to figure it out. I'm going to get testing done, and try to get an answer before we begin to try again. In the meantime I am working my hardest to be nice to myself and my body, but it is difficult when I feel so betrayed by it.

Yesterday was by far the worst day I have ever had. Ever. In my entire life. I have never been in such a dark, hopeless place. I can always find a silver lining, a beacon of hope. Always. But yesterday I tried my hardest to cling onto every thread of hope and truth that I knew, but I failed and failed and failed.

Yesterday I cried (a lot). I yelled at God. I begged, and pleaded, and bargained, and when I realized my begging, pleading, and bargaining wasn't working, I yelled some more. Why me? Why us? Why twice??

Yesterday I was certain I would never be happy again. I know that sounds dramatic, but it's true. I couldn't see through the fog. I couldn't see through my fury and sadness. But last night three of the most amazing women I know (one being my mom) came over to talk to me and pray with me. Thank God. By the time they left, the fog began to clear, and I felt a little bit more like myself.

Today I am better. The physical pain and blood are constant reminders of this devastating time. I still feel very broken. I still feel lost. I am still questioning everything. Myself, God, my plans, His plans. I'm still angry. Im so angry because this isn't fair. It's not. Jake and I would have loved those babies, both of them, so much. We pray for them every single night, before they were even inside of me. We are dedicated to building a life for them. We want more babies so so bad.

I am nowhere near being healed. But that's why I wanted to write this tonight, when everything is fresh and still stings. I don't want to wait to share this until there's a happy ending, with a full heart and a baby in my arms. That's not life. This is life. Right now. This is what I'm having to sort through and understand. This is what I'm having to accept and rise above. I'm not ok, and that's ok because I know I will be some day. I am strong. Not on my own, but through Christ. I know what is true. I know that a rainbow is coming. I will weather this storm with my husband, my daughter, my friends and my family, my two precious babies in heaven, and my God.

This will never go away. I will always wonder about those lives that were lost, and I will always long to hold them in my arms. But I will heal. My heart will mend. The tears will stop flowing, and my head will stop spinning. In the meantime I will take this opportunity to search my soul. I will choose to grow.

If you get a chance, please pray for our family. Pray for peace, and pray for comfort. Pray for healing. Thank you for reading this. One of the most difficult parts about losing those babies is feeling like they were never known. I keep my pregnancy tests in my drawer because it's all I have left of those lives. But knowing that they are known helps my heart.

I am so thankful that we have so many friends and family that are willing and able to help us think positively, to pray for us, to hug us, and to cry for and with us. Thank you to everyone who has done this already, and thank you to those who will continue to do that. I love you all, so so much.

"We are hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed." 2 Corinthians 4: 8-9


  1. I'm crying with you, Karissa. So sorry for your families loss. Remember that your body has done this once. It will do it again. You are more than capable of carrying and birthing a beautiful baby. I hope you get some answers that will shed some light on what is going on. Praying for you, friend.

  2. Praying for you and your family. ��

  3. My heart breaks for you and your family but your strength and faith in the Lord gives me hope. I pray your hope continues to grow.

    Jesus replied, "You don't understand now what I am doing, but someday you will." John 13:7

    You are in my prayers.