Visiting God’s House

After the whirl wind of events I found myself completely drained of energy. I needed to just check out and spend some quiet time recharging and healing. Sometimes the best thing for me to do is just step away from everything and be present in the moment.

Several things have unfolded in the past couple of weeks. We picked up Delilah’s ashes from the funeral home. It was an extremely difficult day, and I felt emotionally raw. I stood in the funeral home bathroom before we received her and almost lost it. It took all of my strength to keep it together and not crumble. Standing in front of the bathroom sink staring into the mirror I closed my eyes and felt massive white angel wings embrace me and hold me tight. I know that it was Delilah comforting me.

~It’s ok mommy. I’m still here~

Marc and I left the funeral home and headed straight to a bar. On the drive I held the box of her in my lap. The same familiar energy that I once felt in my womb, I now felt radiating from the box.

We toasted Delilah with a drink, we cried, we laughed, but most importantly my husband and I bonded. This has rattled us to the core, leaving us fractured in unexpected ways. You really don’t know someone until you grieve with them. This has threatened to rip out the bolts of our relationship, yet we’ve held on tight to our marriage. We are weathering this storm together because that is what we promised each other. Through sickness and health. Through good times and bad. I am proud of us for keeping US together through this devastating time.

In desperate need of some happy QT we escaped to Santa Barbara last weekend. We visited the historic Mission there and I was greeted by an insane spiritual energy. Our tour of the grounds led us into the most beautiful church I’ve ever seen. Without even thinking about what I was doing, I went to the front of the church, sat down in a pew, bowed my head and prayed. I prayed for Delilah, for my husband and I. I haven’t felt that close to God in a long time, but on that day I felt him all around me. I felt him with her. As I talked to God, tears streamed down my face. I turned around to the pew behind me and there was my husband, fighting back his own tears. We both felt God’s love that day. I think that Delilah led us to the Church so that we could experience God’s healing love.

This week has brought the return of my menstrual cycle and with that brings mixed emotions. It is a sad reminder of what was lost. However, with it brings the hope of conceiving another miracle.

The other day I was driving in my car, thinking about Delilah and getting emotional. I had my IPhone music on shuffle, and out of 2,000 songs “Hey There Delilah” began playing. This is the song that inspired us to name her Delilah. I couldn’t believe the timing of that song coming on in the car. It made me cry, but tears of comfort and relief. Then, I heard her sweet voice in my mind.

~My mommy and daddy loved me sooooo much that they didn’t want me to suffer on Earth. So they let me come back here and be with God a little longer!~

I believe she wants me to know that this is what she tells her spirit friends in Heaven. She brags about her mommy and daddy and their profound love for her. She is so proud of us for the way that we love her, and the choice we made to spare her.

When I got home, I got my period for the first time in six months. She knew it would be an emotional day for me, so she made her presence known.

~I’m still here mommy. Don’t you worry.~


I know I’m finding peace. I know this because I’m doing things I couldn’t have fathomed doing three weeks ago. Yesterday I went to the zoo. The Zoo. Swarming with children, babies, and pregnant women. Instead of having to look away from them, I found joy in their smiles. I found happiness in their excitement. I was able to look at pregnant women and pray that their babies would make it into this world, and not meet the devastating fate that we had. I was able to heal a little in this environment.

It has been a process to get here. Right after we lost Delilah, it was emotionally painful to see pregnant women and babies. Why were their babies healthy and ours was not? What had we done wrong? I realize that these are ridiculous thoughts, but I’ve learned that they are normal reactions when you experience pregnancy loss. I was bitter and jealous, two feelings that I despise. So I am very proud to be making this progress.

Last night I had a dream and it was very reflective of my shift. I would like to share it in this space.

It was a stormy night. I was travelling with a female companion whose face I never saw, but she was familiar. We were both riding on one bicycle. I was pedaling and she was riding on the back of my seat. I was pedaling so hard through the storm, trying to move us down the road. But the harder I tried to pedal, the slower the wheels went around. It felt as if my legs were moving through thick mud. It was exhausting and I had the overwhelming fear that I could not carry both of us much longer. It made me feel ashamed and guilty. Just as I was about to give up, our surroundings shifted. Now we were at the top of a snowy mountain, standing in front of a steep slope. Other people whizzed past us, skiing down the slope. The slope was extremely steep and I was terrified to ski down it. I told my female companion “My legs won’t hold me, I’m not strong enough, I’m scared!”

I was alone in my fear and self-doubt. She went down the slope without me. She left me on the top of the mountain.

Feeling sure that my legs weren’t strong enough to hold me up, I lay down on my back and proceeded to slide down the mountain. It was a long, cold ride down, but an adrenaline rush. When I reached the bottom I looked behind me and saw the huge mountain in all of its glory. I couldn’t believe I made it to the bottom! I looked around for her, but was she gone.

I woke up.

Dreams like this are special to me, because I know that they carry deep meaning. Initially I thought that the girl was Delilah. I was trying to carry both of us through the turbulent journey, but it became too heavy, too exhausting. As hard as I tried to pedal, it just didn’t get us anywhere. When we were on the mountaintop I was too terrified to go down, so she proceeded without me. She continued alone, towards her own journey.

Upon further analysis, I had another interpretation of this dream.

This experience has changed me so much. I am not the same person that I was before my pregnancy. It has opened up my heart to be more compassionate and kind. I am so much more aware and considerate of other people’s battles. We are all someone else’s children, and that makes us ALL precious in some way. The female companion in my dream may have been a version of myself that I got tired of carrying. Tired of carrying the ugly, the mean, the insensitive, the critical, the grief, and the past. I was ready to let her go so I could move on and grow into a better version of myself

Laying down and sliding down the mountain was me adapting to a terrifying situation. I didn’t give up. I just changed my plan.


Snapdragons in Heaven

It surprises me that I’m choosing to openly share things such as the following. But I believe that meditation of the mind can be very powerful, and maybe it can be helpful to someone else who is grieving a loss.

I’d like to share a powerful visit I had with Delilah through meditation. I created a “space” in which I can visit her. This space is somewhere between the realms of our existence. Her spirit exists in this space, and she is accessible to me. The following is an account of my visit with her.

The space was white in all directions, with no walls. Slowly, picture frames began forming all around me. The frames held all of the memories of my life thus far. Good memories and bad memories. I had the ability to add and subtract any of them. She is on my mind. The girl I lost in life. I’m not even sure what she looks like so visualizing her is difficult. But I know her Soul. Then, the space begins to shift into a room. It has four walls, a floor, and a ceiling. Furniture begins to fill the room so that it becomes the bedroom of a little girl. A canopy bed, dolls, a table for a tea party.

I know that she is coming. This is her bedroom. A door forms on the far wall, and it bursts open! She comes through, a girl of about five years old. White puffy dress, long auburn hair that ends in curls, her daddy’s blue eyes, and freckles on her nose. She knows who I am and runs towards me. We embrace.

She tells me sweetly,

~I’ve missed you mommy!~

She takes my hand and leads me through another door that brings us outside into a field of rainbow colored snapdragons. They appear to be dancing in the breeze. The sky is blue and it is sunny. We dance through the tall flowers and lay down on the earth. We craft flowers into head crowns and I place one on her head. She is my fairy princess! I see her tiny hands. With them she touches mine. Her voice is sweet and she is so happy.

I ask her a very serious question because I need to know the answer,

~Delilah, why was your heart broken?~

She responds to me,

~Because, God made me special!~

I reply,

~But why did God make you special?~

She tells me in a very affirming way,

~ Because God wanted us both to grow.~

It’s as easy as that for my daughter. Her soul is so wise.

Time in her realm moves faster than in mine, and we both know that our time for this visit is running out. I don’t want to part.

I say to her,

~Promise me that you’ll come back to us someday.~

She gives me an honest answer,

~I promise that I will try!~

But I don’t like that answer and plead with her,

~Why can’t you promise me that you WILL?~

She replies,

~If I don’t come back it is because I am staying here to watch over everyone.~

I can accept that. I just don’t want her to disappear forever.

I kneel down and hug my girl. This is not “goodbye”; it is “see you later”. This is our special place. I am free to return any time I’d like and she will be there to meet me.

I have an Angel and her name is Delilah. She has long auburn hair, blue eyes, freckles, and lives amongst the tallest Snapdragons in Heaven.


Link to this guided meditation:

Healing Kit

Since Delilah’s departure, grief has taken her place as my constant companion. I am becoming very familiar with grief, and it’s fickleness. Grief is fluid and ever changing. It is never concrete. It can have you feeling despair one moment and peace the next. It is a constant flowing river that I am riding, until I feel strong enough to put my two feet back on the ground again. To be honest, I have no idea when that might be, and that’s okay. I am grateful that I have the time in my life to really dive into the healing process and go wherever the river takes me. To my surprise, the gaping wound that left me broken a few weeks ago is beginning to mend itself back together.

The most terrifying thing about life is loss. We will all experience the loss of a loved one. When we do, we are given a very important choice. We can put the pieces back together and live life to the fullest, or we can let life slip away from us. I think it’s important to always remember that our loved one wants us to be happy, and continue on our Earth journey.

I miss Delilah desperately, every day. I miss being pregnant with her. It was the happiest and most meaningful time of my life so far. But God had a plan and there was no way to alter it. She has gone, and I’ve been given that choice. I want my life. I miss being happy. So I’ve begun to laugh a bit more and not feel guilty. She wants that for me.

This ordeal left me stripped of all emotions. Literally. I remember feeling like I’d never care about anything else again. I’m beginning to recognize distinct things in my life that are huge components of my healing process. I like to think of these components as a “Healing Kit” for grief. Everyone’s healing kit will be different. But these are the components of mine at the moment:















I try to focus on a couple of these things every day, and they have the power to save me in a weak moment. Focusing on my healing instead of my sorrow, is definitely helping to soothe the pain of heartbreak, and to move me forward with a happy mind and peaceful heart.

An Open Letter to The Bump App

Well Said Leo’s Mummy!!

The Legacy of Leo

Dear The Bump

I could quite easily condense this letter into two short, rather predictable words, but it wouldn’t be nearly as worthwhile for space on my blog.

You see, I waited until I first heard my much sought for baby’s heartbeat before downloading your app. It was one of my first tentative steps to realise that we were finally pregnant after three years of fertility treatment, including two cycles of IVF. We could breathe and finally join the club. The pregnant club. Whilst we waited to join the elusive parent club.

After you hear that your baby’s heart has stopped beating, your world stops. It shatters. You have to process the reality of delivering your sleeping child. You spend three precious, unforgettable days with your baby in your arms. You then hand him over to a midwife, and leave the hospital, empty. An ache so deep, so physical.

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Everything Happens For A Reason

I woke up today at 5AM with my mind and body in a state of panic. I observed my husband sleeping so peacefully beside me and it made me realize how alone I am in my grief. I’ve come to realize that my grief is in a category of it’s own.  Along with the mental grief, my body grieves, because my body was her home. My body is physically grieving her absence.  I have these bouts of panic where my body seems to scream at me: “WHERE IS THE BABY??!!” As if my body has forgotten that she is gone. This 5AM alarm made sense when I got out of bed later and realized that my body was ready to feed her today. There was milk for her. But she is not here to receive it. What a beautiful thing a woman’s body does to prepare to nourish her baby. What a horrible thing to be reminded of when there is no longer a baby to nourish. I keep comparing it to a royal kick in the teeth, because that is exactly what it feels like!

A few days ago we went to the funeral home to start the process of getting Delilah’s ashes. It was surreal. Very difficult to write “Mother & Father of the Deceased”, when you’ve never even seen your daughter, or held her. As we sat there signing the documents, all I could think was, we should be picking out a crib and a stroller right now. I would have never expected to be picking out an urn for our baby’s ashes. Another thought I had as we walked the cemetery grounds was, Is it more tragic to leave behind a lifetime full of loved ones and memories, or to leave behind a life that you never even had the chance to live? It’s something that’s been on my mind and surely puzzles me.

I’m still struggling to understand why this happened. She was literally my hopes, dreams and prayers packaged into one tiny body. The loss in my heart is profound and deep. This meditation popped up on my news feed today and it was exactly what I needed. It felt appropriate to share here. Maybe I will never fully understand this loss. But to try and hold onto my belief that Everything Does Happen For A Reason…definitely brings me a tiny bit of peace, and returns me to some sense of Faith, that God has a plan, and this was just a part of it.