I was sitting next to my husband, one of my best friends and her husband in our church over the lunch hour.

As we navigated the loss and all the emotions that followed, I found myself in awe of my grandma Theresa.

It was a normal afternoon at daycare pick-up. I grabbed my son from the infant room and then walked down the hall to pick up my four-year-old daughter.

It was a normal weekday evening. As ‘normal’ as a weekday evening can be at home with a three-year-old and a two-week-old newborn. Pure chaos might be a better way to describe the evening time slot. 

‘Remember when I bawled my eyes out when we found out we were having a boy?’

I giggled with my friends — recently thinking back to the day we found out we would welcome our sweet son, who is now earth side, into our family.

It was Thursday morning at Bible study with a group of women I hold dear that got me thinking about the postpartum experience.

That morning, we were going around the table sharing something in particular we were thankful for lately.

It was a normal Saturday afternoon trip to SCHEELS with the family. My husband, who loves to wander through the various sections, mentioned he’d like to start at the golf area upstairs. who loves to wander through the various sections, mentioned he’d like to start at the golf area upstairs. Perfect, I thought, knowing our daughter loves to ride the escalator.

As we continued on our drive, I had a feeling she had experienced a long day. She was tired, cranky, and it seemed as if every little thing set her off as I asked her questions about school. 

After sharing details on our miscarriage ‘publicly’ on Facebook and Instagram, these messages among the many condolences, thoughts and prayers, stood out. 

Shortly after my daughter turned one, we started to hear questions and comments regarding our plans for giving Harper a brother or sister. Although they likely meant no harm, these comments were annoying and frustrating. 

There’s tragedy striking by the second across the globe, sometimes closer to home than we could ever have imagined — with natural disasters, war, mass shootings, cancer, terrifying accidents, suicide, and more. 

The other day on Facebook, I saw a post relating to the sacrifices that come with motherhood. It detailed various things moms no longer have time for. 

Last September, I was involved in a car accident that flipped my car and my world upside down.

Nearly a year later, I had to face the fact that the effects of the accident were still wreaking havoc on my mental and physical health.  

The other day I was sitting at the gym thinking about what was ahead of me.

It had been a week of so-so workouts. I was lacking energy and motivation. I showed up physically, but I wasn’t there mentally — and I couldn’t figure out why.