Yesterday morning as I was getting ready, I found the pregnancy test that confirmed that I was pregnant with Adam clear back in early April.  I don't know why I've saved it all these months.  I didn't save my pregnancy tests with Vaughn and Mason.  There had been several times when I'd happened upon it and thought about throwing it away, but every time I wasn't able to part with it.

But there it was in my hands, the two pink lines next to the word pregnant.  I remembered the rush of emotions when those two pink lines showed up-- pure joy and excitement.  Yes!  We did it!  Another baby!  And then I was whipped back to the present moment.  Alone.  In my bathroom-- my deflated stomach, my sad heart, my baby gone.  Gone.  I cried and cried, and put the test in my little box of things to remember him by.

I've thought so much lately about how many other women have suffered losses-- and not just stillborns, but miscarriages, babies and children, and women who want so badly to have a family, but can't conceive.  I feel so much more compassion and love for women who put their hearts in such a vulnerable position to become mothers.  I feel like motherhood is so much more sacred than I have ever felt before.

On Thursday night I went to a support group at the hospital for other moms who have suffered similar losses.  We all went around the table and told our sad stories.  The girl sitting next to me lost her second son just weeks before she was to deliver him.  They named him Mason.  I thought about my second son Mason, and how sad it would be to not have my two boys playing together and running around all day.  My heart ached for her.  Another woman lost her third boy at twenty-four weeks.  She almost died from bleeding so much and they ended up having to remove her uterus, and she needed several more surgeries afterward.  Her son lived for fifty-one days before passing away.  She was such a beautiful woman with a beautiful heart and even though I didn't know her I had the strongest desire to give her a big hug and tell her how sorry I was.  She talked about how at night she lights a candle to remember him by.  I thought it was a wonderful and simple way to remember a person so loved and missed, so Friday night and tonight I've done the same while sitting in my boys' room singing them to sleep.

This loss has been so humbling to me.  It's stripped me of a layer of pride that I wasn't even aware was there. It has brought me to my knees and made me so much more aware of how little I know, how little I have control of, and how little is actually mine.  I can only put one foot in front of the other and pray for guidance, for love, and for wisdom.

I hope that I can become the kind of woman that God wants me to be.  I hope that something good can come from this.  That I can carry that joy and excitement Adam's life brought to me from the moment that test confirmed his existence.  That I can continue to learn and grow in the light his life has brought to me.