God's Promise - My Journey With Jayla
Jayla’s middle name was (and is) “Amaris”. It was between that and another name I can’t even remember. I showed the name to my husband, Lance, and told him “Jayla Amaris” had a nice ring to it, and he agreed. Amaris is also Hebrew for God’s Promise. It’s not by coincidence that now, after everything that has happened, I can’t think of Jayla without thinking of God’s promises and I can’t think of God’s promises, without thinking of Jayla.
This blog post is a long one. But it’s a necessary one. It’s for all the mamas out there that are trying to navigate the journey that is having to end a truly wanted pregnancy early. It’s for the mamas that are trying to figure out what to do with their faith in a time like this, and also for the friends, family members and loved ones that just want to understand, or know how to show support. Honestly, it’s for anyone.
Please remember that this is my story. It in no way encompases the feelings of all moms that endured having to end a pregnancy for medical reasons (TFMR), nor does it negate any of their experiences, feelings or thoughts. It’s such a personal and unique journey, and there’s no way a series of posts will sum up everything for everyone. But hopefully, this will shed some light, give a bit of comfort, and start a discussion - because all three are necessary.
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When we first got pregnant - we couldn’t believe it! For some reason I always had this idea that it was going to be challenging for me to conceive. Maybe it was because of my age (mid-thirties), or maybe just because of my own worries. So when we got pregnant with Jayla, I was beyond excited. Scared - but SO excited. I remember Lance immediately taking my hand and praying over the little light growing inside my tummy. Those next few days we stayed tight lipped, understanding the possibility for a miscarriage and wanting to get the “green light” before sharing with friends and family. And we did. Any conversations about our “little peanut” were kept between myself, Lance and God.
God and I had quite a few conversations. Usually late at night, and in the living room while the rest of the household was asleep. I’d pray about everything: being a good mother, for who my child would become, being able to provide for them, for a safe pregnancy; but most of all for my baby’s health. That was so very important to me. I remember praying, with tears in my eyes for God to cover this little one. Even before they came into this world - my mama bear instincts were kicking in. I wanted to protect them.
Like I said, we stayed tight-lipped, but once we got the green light - news was flying like wildfire! I loved experiencing the joy on loved ones and families faces when they found out we were expecting. At this point, Lance and I had been married for 4 years and it was “about time” for us to have a baby LOL. We were excited, the family was excited, and at that moment I thanked God, and finally breathed a sigh of relief.
A few weeks later we went in for our 20-week ultrasound. That’s when everything changed. I remember the excitement that Lance had that day. It was his first time being able to see our baby girl move on the monitor in front of us. I, on the other hand, was filled with anxiety the moment I got in the car. I couldn’t explain it, and chalked it up to us having to go to a different Dr.’s office for the appointment.
But during that visit, I felt the air in the room shift. I prayed, I asked lance to pray, I pulled out my Bible app and read scriptures - all before any news was shared with us. I stared at the ceiling and asked God, “Will she be ok?” To this day, I don’t know why I asked God that question. I think I knew in my heart that something was wrong - but I prayed and hoped it wasn’t. Just then Adele’s, “When we Were Young” softly played over the radio in the background:
“ Let me photograph you in this light
In case it is the last time
That we might be exactly like we were
Before we realized…”
I tried to hide the tears that immediately started falling down my eyes. I asked God a question, and I knew he had just given me my answer. This was the last time I was going to see my “little peanut” dancing across the monitor. I quietly cried as I said my goodbye. Five minutes later the Dr. came in the room and told us our daughter’s heart didn’t form properly and that she has a severe case of Hypoplastic left heart syndrome (HLHS), a birth defect that affects normal blood flow through the heart.
I’d like to tell you I knew what happened next, but I honestly don’t know. All I know is that Lance is a superhero, because he stayed calm and somehow managed to ask all the questions I couldn’t. I was hurt. I was sad. I was mad. I was mad at God because I’ve always prayed with the understanding of “Thy will be done”. But this - keeping my child healthy during pregnancy, I just knew He was going to come through for me. At that moment, I felt like He “didn’t”... and I was devastated.
As believers, we all go through a time in our lives where we decide who God really is to us. We go through things that test our relationship with him in a way that makes who He is to us very clear. This was my “thing”, and at that moment I wasn’t sure if our relationship was going to make it.
~THE DECISION ~
We’re taught, “Ask and it shall be given unto you..” (Matthew 7:7), and to “pray without ceasing “ (1 Thessalonians 5:17). So what do you do when you’ve believed in those scriptures your whole life and something like this happens? Well if you’re like me, you may fall into a tailspin. No matter how I tried, it was hard to see the light.
I am 100% human and feel ALL the things - no matter how strong my faith is. So when I was faced with the reality of having to end my pregnancy - yes, I was mad and no, I didn’t feel like praying. I wasn’t ready to accept what I knew God had already told me, “It’s time to send your little one back to me”. But when I did pray, it was usually asking God “What the he**” is going on and WHY is this happening to ME?!”
But later in my journey, I was faced with another question “Why not me?” What makes me so special to think that I wouldn’t have difficult and trying times in my life? Pain and suffering does not discriminate - it just looks a little different for all of us. This was ours. This was something my husband and I had to move through in faith, and it was hard.
“For the Lord sees not as man sees: man looks on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart.” (1 Samuel 16:7)
Today, that scripture brings me so much comfort, but months ago I couldn’t recall it if I tried. I know, to some people, they look at me and only see a woman who made the decision to end her pregnancy, but I know God sees so much more than that. He sees my heart.
He knows the decision my husband and I made was rooted in the immense love we have for our daughter. He knows the questions we asked, the research we did, tears we cried and the prayers we prayed. He knew our heart posture; and if you’ve found yourself in the same position as us, please know that he knows yours also.
I come from a family of believers and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried about how some of them would react to the news of my TFMR. But I quickly realized that their opinions were the last thing I needed to worry about. This was not the journey given to them - it was mine, and I had to do what God gave us peace about, and what was best for me and our child.
In life, you’re going to make some tough decisions and people aren’t always going to agree with them. It’s interesting because sometimes the Christian community can be the first ones to throw stones, when they should be the ones creating a safe space for you to heal.
If you’re looking for a safe space, I hope you’ve found one here. This faith filled, Jesus loving, TFMR-experiencing Mama is here to support you, uplift you and see you. The only scripture I’m going to “throw” at you is the one above. Don’t let people make you feel ashamed or guilty about this part of your journey. God knows your heart, and that’s all that matters.
~ HEALING ~
Group Therapy
I read those two words nestled within the list of resources my genetic counselor emailed my husband and I. I immediately thought to myself, “Nope, group therapy isn’t for me”. For some reason, I imagined the scenes I’ve seen on TV of people sitting in a circle talking about their problems, and that didn’t seem like my kind of thing.
Now don’t get me wrong, while I believe in the power of prayer, I also believe in the power of talking to those who are gifted in listening and helping people like myself get through difficult moments. So that’s why I ultimately signed up.
At the time, I was 3 weeks out from my termination and my feelings and moods were spiraling everywhere. I was grieving, slightly depressed, crying all the time and didn’t want to be anywhere that wasn’t at home curled up next to my husband. I knew I needed to talk to someone.
In a season where so much felt out of my control, reaching out and taking care of my mental health was something I could do.
Thanks to COVID, “sitting in a circle with strangers” was actually 8 squares on Zoom. I quickly scanned the faces of the women and their partners as they logged on. They looked familiar. Not in the sense of knowing each other, but rather in a way that let me know they knew my pain.
One by one they went around welcoming me to the group and sharing a bit of their story. I was amazed by how quickly I felt comfortable, realizing I was in a room full of people that shared the same pain I did. This was the first time I was surrounded by those expressing the same built up feelings, struggles in explaining their experience to family and friends, complications with the procedure, and the mixed emotions of being pregnant again. At one point I looked at my husband and said, “OMG, she just said the same thing I was feeling last night!”
I couldn’t believe I doubted the healing power of being around people that understood exactly what I was going through. These women validated my feelings and reminded me that what I was experiencing was part of the journey. They reminded me to take time for myself, shared what worked for them and how they were navigating through the process. It was the most healing 1.5 hours I had experienced since the procedure, and to this day I’m so thankful for each and every one of them.
TFMR can feel extremely isolating. Especially since it isn’t something most people talk about. There are so many layers and nuances that people don’t get unless they’ve been through it.
If you haven’t already, think about finding a therapist, or group, to help you navigate your feelings and healing. Don’t be afraid like I was, if nothing else, it’s just nice to be around people and know you’re not alone.
~ MY FAITH ~
November 29th was the first time I truly asked God for help in the midst of all this. And before you misjudge, please don’t mistake this as, “Wait, she never prayed and asked God to heal her baby?” because… of course I did. Rather, this was the first time I reached out and asked God to heal ME. Big difference.
Knowing me is to know that my faith is something that touches every aspect of my life. My faith grounds me, it gives me hope, and allows me to have a sense of peace when things seem & feel upside down. All of that went out the window on Oct 30th, the day of my procedure. I’d never felt so lost and abandoned by God in my whole life.
As much as I wanted to run to him, there was also a part of me that strongly wanted to stay as far away as I could. Sounds crazy, right? But if I’m honest, a part of me felt like I couldn’t trust Him. How in the world could He help me when He put me in such a devastating position to begin with? Many nights I cried to my husband telling him I felt like I was floating with nothing to ground me; and I so desperately needed grounding.
In previous days, I had forced myself to pick up the Bible and read my favorite scriptures - but none of them brought peace. They just felt like words in a book. It was devastating because I knew the comfort those same words used to bring - and now they felt so empty.
But I’ve come to understand that all of that was not only part of my grief process - but also part of my faith journey. Never once have I questioned if God was real or if he had my back. I’ve always been able to rationalize a situation and see how God could, and would work, come through. But this time I was stumped.
But on November 29th, I sat on my bed, asking him for help, with tears in my eyes. I noticed an opening in my heart, a willingness to hear and draw near to him - so I took it.
“Hi God, so I’m finally here, and I need your help.
I can’t get into the specifics - because I don’t even know what they are,
but I need you to know I’m here and I’m ready. Can you help me get through this?!”
That was it. That was the whole conversation. I didn’t go any deeper because I knew my limits. I knew that anger and doubt were right around the corner, and if I gave them an inch they would take two miles! So I stopped there, just asking for help and believing that God would meet me right where I was, on that bed.
That’s the beautiful thing about God. He wants us to come to him exactly where, and how we are. He already knows what you’re going through. He knew the decision Lance and I would make when faced with Jayla’s diagnosis. He knew the pain it would bring. He knew it would bring me to my knees and be one of the most difficult experiences of my 35 years on this earth, and He knew it would bring me to you - sharing this story. And if I believed all of that - then I had to believe that He also already had the tools I needed to bring me through this stronger than before.
I don’t know where this experience has taken your faith.
Maybe you immediately dove right into the Word and felt comforted. Or, maybe like me, it may have left you with more questions than answers. No matter where you are, please know that God is standing there right beside you. He’s not going to push his way in if you’re not ready. But He’ll wait. Patiently. He’ll wait for you to come back to Him so he can pull you through this. If nothing else, when you’re ready, and you feel space in your heart open (even if it’s just a little sliver) seize it with all you have, and ask Him for help. I promise He’ll be right there to answer your call.❤️
~ IT’S GOING TO BE OK ~
That’s what it said on the front of a card one of my best friends gave me, “It’s going to be OK.” I kept it on my nightstand for many months, reminding me that although it may be hard right now - it’s going to be ok. So now I’m reminding you! No matter where you are on your journey of healing, please know it’s going to be OK.
You are a strong, amazing, resilient woman who has had to make a very painful and difficult decision - but in time, you’re going to be OK. The pain from losing a child won’t go away, but one day, you’ll be able to move through life with a smile on your face. It may seem crazy now, but be kind to yourself and let it happen.
I wrote this TFMR series with my faith in mind, but maybe your faith and belief system isn’t the same as mine - and that’s also OK. Whatever you believe in, whatever you have faith in, you’ve chosen it because it brings you peace and helps you navigate this crazy world we live in.
If you started reading my story with the mindset of judging “Christian” women that have had to make such a decision - I hope my story opens up space in your heart for compassion and understanding to grow.
If you’re someone who read this in hopes to support and understand what one of your loved ones might be experiencing - they’re lucky to have you - and your willingness to try and step in their shoes in order to better support them is more appreciated than you’ll ever know.
Jayla’s parents
If you're a sweet mamma, searching for some type of comfort, trying to keep your faith strong and make it through this time, I see you and you are ever so deeply loved.
Although our experiences may not be exactly the same, just know I’m in your corner and praying for you. I hope this post has brought some peace, and if nothing else, reminds you that although this season may feel lonely - you are not alone
I know you’re working hard to heal, not only physically - but also mentally and spiritually. Just remember to give yourself grace, and that it’s OK to have good and bad days. There still may be things that shake you, but please know you won’t fall. You're stronger than you think! I know this because you’ve made it this far and here reading this post. Just take it one day at a time - moving at a pace that works for you.
As of today I’m almost 7 months post saying goodbye to Jayla. I still tear up when I think about her, and looking at the imprint of her little feet still pulls at my heart. But for me, I know she’s where she’s supposed to be. Safe in the arms of her heavenly father. God didn’t promise the journey of life would be easy, but he did promise to never leave our side (Joshua 1:5). Knowing that - I’m thankful to have known Jayla, thankful to have felt her, thankful to be her Mom and most importantly, I’m thankful that my journey with her (and our story) can bring comfort to others.
“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.”
Romans 8:28 NIV