A season of hope

2024 is a year where our lives forever changed. A year where Ryan and I became parents but also experienced the heartache of losing a child. This year felt both long but quick, like it was over in a blink of an eye. As Evangeline’s 1^st heavenly birthday and 1 year death anniversary approach, I find myself reflecting on the year that was and am grateful that in amongst all the heartache there are still plenty of reasons to smile. 

 The months that followed Evangeline’s death felt like life stood still while the world around me carried on. Grief at first is all encompassing, nothing else exists and nothing else matters. I cannot explain what it is like to have your body go through post-partum changes and to heal physically without a baby to make sense of things.

Life demands to be lived, and while we don’t move on and forget after a loss, we do move forward. As the months rolled by, we began to find our new normal. The end of April rolled round, and it was time for me to return to teaching. On one hand I did not feel emotionally ready to return to work. The thought of facing all the children I had previously taught, the parents, the new students and my colleagues felt overwhelming, but on the other hand, I knew resuming normalcy is a part of healing and moving forward. Fridays became my day to grieve fully and freely and to do things to refresh my soul like take a walk or visit a friend. The first few months back at work were rough, but slowly I found my groove, and even found my passion for teaching return. In Term 3, Rachael, an awesome colleague and old friend from teachers’ college started up the New Entrant class next door to me. She was full of passion and ideas, and for a while, I let her enthusiasm carry me until it became shared. I ended up absolutely loving co-teaching with her.

It was around July that I truly felt a shift in my grief. It simply felt like some colour returned into my world. I realised that the days between crying got less. My Fridays became less about grieving and more about doing things I enjoy. Not a day went by or goes by where I don’t think of Evangeline but the thought of her no longer brings despair. Grief is still a part of my world but not my whole world.

Then September rolled round, and we decided to try for another baby. I figured it would take at least a few months to fall pregnant. Then to my surprise a few weeks later, on the 17^th of September, I took a pregnancy test at 1am and two pink lines appeared! I left the pregnancy stick sitting in the bathroom for Ryan to discover when he awoke. He stumbled back half asleep and said to me “I think you left the pregnancy test sitting there too long because it is showing positive.” Haha. 

The first week I was so excited until the reality sunk in and then another layer of grief and fear crept in. I felt completely vulnerable to having my heart broken all over again. The only thing I knew to be true, was that I am not in control and that nothing is guaranteed in this life. I figured if something rare like Trisomy 18 happened in my first pregnancy, what’s not to say something more common, yet also devastating, like miscarriage wouldn’t happen too. I wrestled with how to trust God, how to pray and how to hope again. Hope itself terrified me, as to hope meant to risk disappointment. When we initially shared our news with immediate family around 6 weeks, I found myself feeling sad afterwards because I thought, “What if I have to give them bad news later on?”.

At 11 weeks, I went to church and my pastors prayed for me. Rod our pastor began to boldly declare and pray that this baby would get to come home with us. He talked about seeing me doing all the mum things and said it would bring so much joy and healing to our hearts. Jan and Rod prayed against fear. Something shifted in me that day because I chose to believe Rod and God, who he spoke on behalf of. Instead of fearing the worst. I allowed hope in all its fullness to come in and I began to imagine our future with this little one.

Once again, we anticipate the arrival of a little girl, but this time with every reason to hope and believe that she will get to come home with us. Every scan has confirmed this hope, as we have seen our baby’s growth and expected development. Scans and appointments still bring anxiety because of all that happened last time, and the memories attached with scans; however, at 17 weeks I experienced my first scan with no anxiety. It was a gender scan so in my mind it wasn’t a big deal. We had a kind lady do the scan and once she knew our history she decided to give some extra reassurance and pointed out baby’s anatomy –describing that her growth is on track. When I mentioned Evangeline’s main issue had been her heart, she showed me the left and right ventricles functioning as they should. She let us hear our baby’s heartbeat, too. I left that scan with even more hope and assurance.

We are currently in Texas visiting Ryan’s family. We shared our baby’s gender with the family here in Texas, we were able to fully celebrate this pregnancy without fearing “what if.” It helps that this girl is very active, and I get to feel her sweet little flutters and kicks daily.

The other day I took advantage of Amazon and free shipping. I ordered some personalised memorial keepsakes for Evangeline’s grandparents to gift to them on her birthday and a sweet little teddy bear for Ryan, myself and Evangeline’s little sister. I then got some practical items such as winter baby clothes and socks for our May baby. There was a lot of joy as I picked out outfits for this baby with full expectation of getting to use them, but equally I felt sad and sentimental as I chose gifts to commemorate Evangeline’s upcoming 1^st heavenly birthday. This pretty much sums up the unique way that grief and Joy can co-exist together.  Just the other day, we had a beautiful baby shower. It was a genuinely happy occasion. But there is a tinge of sadness knowing we never had a baby shower for Evangeline because we didn’t need anything for her. Sometimes my mama heart feels guilty that Evangeline never got to be spoiled and celebrated in the way that we are celebrating now. I think it is important to acknowledge those feelings while also choosing to still celebrate. We got plenty of gifts after Evangeline passed but not practical things for her to use. Instead of baby items and clothes, we got flowers and memory keepsakes.

Another example of this is preparing to move into our first home. It is so exciting to know we have a place to call our own, we can paint and decorate how we like and don’t have to wonder if we will be kicked out when our lease comes up each year. What I didn’t expect, is to be hit by a wave of grief as I packed up our current home. It hit me that we were also leaving Evangeline’s home. The place where she grew in my belly, the place where I cried all my tears and sat with all her memories trying to make sense of it all. The house that we moved into when I was 12 weeks pregnant to make space for her. That doesn’t mean I’m not grateful and excited for our own home but once again joy and grief go hand in hand.

 Ryan has described this season we are in as a season of hope. 2024 was tainted with grief but 2025 is packed with hope and expectation. I won’t ever stop missing Evangeline or wishing she was here. But I see Gods hand in this story, I see him restoring, healing and working things together for our good. God knows what it feels like to have his own child die on a cross, yet he also was victorious over death and that right there is the reason why, in every season, we can have hope.

For Evangeline's 1st heavenly birthday, I am fundraising to give back to Verity's Village who supported me throughout my pregnancy and beyond. Click the link if you would like to donate: Verity's Village fundraiser