Two years ago I was 7 weeks pregnant.
I had been in pain for two days and at some points it was so unbearable that I was unable to even walk, but if you had asked me “I was fine”.
Two years ago I walked into the Antelope Valley ER.
And a few hours later, my husband and I stood in the hallway in front of the crowded waiting room listening to a Doctor utter the words that I had another ectopic pregnancy.
Before we got to the hospital those were the words that I even admitted I couldn’t live again. The heartbreak of knowing that my baby was healthy with a heartbeat, just in the wrong spot unraveled me so much in during my first loss (2009) that I didn’t know if I could make my way back to a normalcy after such a loss again.
Two years ago our Pastor and his wife met us in the ER and prayed for us and took care of things such as where our children would stay until I got out. We weren’t that close of friends and they didn’t really understand what we were going through with this being our 3rd loss, but their presence helped us not feel so alone in a very isolating situation.
Two years ago my whole life paused while the world went along not even skipping a beat. There are moments where I think about the loss of Samson and I feel that same pause - that moment where everything started going in slow motion.
My 3rd loss was a game changer.
I was physically changed forever. To the point where every move in this current pregnancy is monitored because of that loss.
I was emotionally changed forever. To where when I hear of someone losing my heart physically aches and soul yearns to know the answer as so why.
Spiritually, I was changed forever. I went from this Sunday morning church goer to being thirsty to know him and to know why he would allow something like this for a third time.
People often think that walking with God is praying to get out of the dark unscathed, but for me it means to learn how to find his light in that darkness, learning how to truly surrender my deepest aches, pains, sorrows and learning that being scathed is a blessing in the biggest disguise.
Samson your loss did something - not only for me, but for our family and for the amount of women I talk to about their loss. I miss you and the dreams and plans I had for you, but you served a higher purpose that I couldn't see back then. You and the loss of
To read about the day we lost Samson, click here.