Bathroom Floor

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To my daughter:

Hi sweet girl!

I’ve never been good at introduction paragraphs, so I’m just gonna delve right in.  Today – I want to talk to you about our bathroom floor… and I know that sounds crazy. There’s a good chance you won’t remember this particular bathroom floor but it has been the foundation for so many significant moments in my life and there’s one specific one I want to talk to you about today.

You see, when I look at that floor, I don’t see tile.

I see the place I sat when I found out my water broke with you and I decided I wasn’t moving until I could stop hyperventilating.  I see the place I locked myself in and sobbed uncontrollably after we brought you home but didn’t know about your acid reflux and why you were always crying.  Postpartum deserves its own post, this isn’t it.  I see the floor your dad and I would stack five towels to make sure it was soft enough for you before/after your baths. My poor, neglected Isabella.

I can still see the place where I sat and waited for three minutes to creep by so I could check test after test, my heart breaking a little more each time. I see the place where your dad pretended he didn’t understand the results because he wanted to surprise me with that beautiful plus sign. But for right now, I mostly see the place your dad had to pick me up off of when God decided that baby would be better off in Heaven with Him.

My sweet girl, I want so badly to make you a big sister.

For the past year, it’s been this all-consuming need. You’ve been talking about your cousins and how they all have brothers and sisters and each time you mention it, my heart aches in a place I did not even know existed. You have such a tender heart for babies and watching you take care of all yours makes me melt.  There is no doubt in my mind that you would make an incredible big sister.

This post is dual purpose.  So far, I feel like it has been mostly therapeutic for me.  But I decided to write this post to you on our bathroom floor. We had been out at Dad’s softball games and it was so late by the time we got home I let you shower with me.  Much to Dad’s dismay, I’ve finally convinced you lukewarm water is NOT the way to go so the bathroom was nice and steamy when we finished.

You were so tired, baby girl, that your big brown eyes were nothing but slits while I was drying you off.  I couldn’t help it, I had to hold you.  So we sat in that bathroom and you fell asleep against my chest and I was immediately back in your newborn days.  In that moment, all I could think about was how badly I wanted to keep you right there and protect you from anything and everything.  And for whatever reason, probably because it’s still pretty fresh, I wanted to talk to you about my miscarriage.

Bella, I hope you never experience this.

But if you do – my love, it is so much more common than you could ever imagine.  You are not alone.  The chance of miscarriage in recognized pregnancies is 15-25%, and even higher for women who haven’t even realized they are pregnant yet.  People don’t like to talk about it, and I understand that.  The tears are inevitable and that feeling of losing something you wanted to bad flows right back in.

I know that everyone grieves differently, but I hope that if you’re ever in this position to never blame yourself.  Every transgression I have ever made immediately came to mind.  It was like a mental confession, trying to pinpoint which sin God was punishing me for. But baby, that’s not the kind of God I believe in and I pray that we don’t raise you to believe in that kind either.

Our God is merciful, not vindictive.

Isabella, my last bit of advice should you find yourself trying to conceive or struggling with a miscarriage, please don’t let it make you bitter.  It’s okay to be angry, but don’t take it out on others.  Those people telling you it’s about time for a baby (or another), they don’t mean to upset you.  If anything – take it as them telling you that you’ll make a great mom, or that they think you already are.

Don’t be angry when friends or even strangers are pregnant.  Those babies weren’t meant for you.  And most importantly, know that those people who tell you to relax and that it will happen when it’s supposed to are trying to comfort you, NOT infuriate you.

I know it’s hard, but the best thing I ever did was decide that becoming pregnant was out of my hands. Don’t get me wrong, I still have to do my part (GROSS, MOM! I know, I know) but God will take care of the rest. You will be a big sister, one way or another, I promise.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” –Jeremiah 29:11

Every ounce of my love,


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