Dismissing trauma in our lives for the sake of gratefulness is never healthy.

I had a funny dream last night that my husband and I were able to go back in time. We chose to both go back to the year where we first started dating. Knowing full well we were married, but in teenage bodies with all of these rules was comical at first. Then we began to get in trouble with our parents for closing the door to my bedroom, and spending too much time together.

What was funny at first became an annoyance, and we wanted to go back to being 27 and 28. We realized that many times we wished to go back to the way things used to be. When everything was new, and exciting. Every little kiss was something to write about in my journal, and each time we held hands I thought my heart would explode. My love for him grew, as we grew. 

In the dream, we tried to explain to my Dad that we were in teenage bodies, but we were really ten years older than that. It didn’t take us long before we were sick of living in the past.

I woke up in the middle of the night, puzzled but sure The Lord was teaching me something. As I lay there in the dark, with both of our daughters pressed against me and my husband on the other side, I began to play the dream in my head, again and again. Soaking in each detail and dissecting the events that occurred.

After an hour I was finally able to go back to sleep, only to wake up to a sickness that had me bed ridden all day.

It was our daughters third birthday, and as I laid in bed sick as a dog, the Lord dealt with my heart through a series of dreams. As I slept, he spoke in an intricate web of dreams.

All the dreams had the same meaning – stop living in the past.

This day three years ago we were given a beautiful baby girl. At 7:05 pm I heard her cry, as I cried too. Longing to see the precious girl I had waited so long to meet. 42 weeks of holding her in my womb. As soon as Matt held her up to my face for me to kiss her, intense pain shot through my right leg, and up to my right shoulder. I screamed in pain, unable to control my sobs. The nurse administered Morphine without my consent, and what happened over the next couple of hours I will never be able to remember.

I do not remember meeting her for the first time, or nursing her. I had to ask several family members and close friends if they even came to the hospital, as I wasn’t aware of my surroundings most days. I do not remember this picture being taken, or kissing those sweet cheeks.


The pain in my physical body wasn’t as bad as what was going on inside my soul. I was dying hour by hour, trying to make sense of what had happened. I had only gone to the hospital because of numbness in my left arm, and I left with a baby. A baby that was cut out of me.

Entering our home and passing by the home birth kit killed me a little more. Trying to focus on my newborn baby, while dealing with intense abdominal pain wasn’t for the faint of heart.

I felt violated. Unloved, and very , very angry.

On this same day of Adah’s birth three years ago, old emotions come back to the surface on my mind. My body wants to react in muscle memory to that day. It’s as if my body remembers the trauma, the tears and the intense regret.

While I was given new life in a daughter, a part of myself died that day.

All day I have wrestled to celebrate her life, and disassociate MY death from HER life.

When we celebrate LIFE , we are joyful . When we honor DEATH, we can be mournful.

I had a dear friend ask me today:

” On a day that was so hard for you, how do you celebrate her life?”

My answer is that I am still unsure. I am still working through the grief of that day, and I am still enjoying my life with my sweet girl. My miracle child.

Just because I love her, and I thank God daily for her life does not erase what her birth did to my soul.

While I sang Happy Birthday to her today as she ate her requested chocolate doughnut, I wept inside. I wept for what my soul longed for. My last baby to be born at home into my arms.

Today I wonder how many times Jesus has wanted something GRAND for our lives that we didn’t accept. I wonder how many times I’ve lived in the past, just like my dream. Frustrated , but never aware of my deep longing to live in the NOW. How often have I held on way too tight to what could have been, while missing out on the present.

Dismissing trauma in our lives for the sake of gratefulness is never healthy.

It’s just like a car accident:

We don’t love what the accident did to our car, or the injuries it gave us, but we are thankful to be alive.

I am thankful she is alive. I do not like what the accident did to my body. To my mind.

Just because we are dealing with the horrors of the past, does not make us ungrateful. We can have the most grateful heart, and still be hurting.

Let me say that one more time. We can still be overcoming past hurts, and still be grateful for the life that we have today.


Celebrating her life today, and always. Redeeming her birth in my mind, everyday. Loving her more , everyday. Trusting God that her birth wasn’t in vain, everyday.

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