Aimee Jones Pregnancy After Loss

Contractions

I was pregnant with Ginny in July 2018. I’ve officially been pregnant for two years. Well technically I had an 8 month break between Ginny and Chet, but I felt pregnant in my heart during that whole time. I was still anticipating holding my living baby in my arms. I still am. 

For weeks it has felt so close but still so far. I have continued to have painful contractions on and off with not much progress toward getting Chet here. Thankfully Chet has looked great every time he’s been monitored. He is growing and moving and reacting to the movements and contractions. Even with that reassurance, I still have to work hard to believe we will bring him home one of these days. I feel guilty for not being more grateful or not feeling more confident in his safe arrival. I pray for trust and patience. 

During these long days of contractions, I have realized something… These prelabor contractions are an uncanny physical metaphor for grief.  Most of the time they are a dull achiness that doesn’t quite leave you alone. But sometimes they come crashing into you, and you are in too much pain to do much of anything. Even just walking from bedroom to the living room is a huge feat. Sometimes you never quite know when they are going to hit. It seems so random. Other times, you know something will trigger it, and you almost ask for it. Sometimes they are consistent and come after some predictable period of time – unstoppable. And through all this you really hope that if you stick it out long enough, if you go through enough pain, you will eventually be relieved of it. You hope to be done and move on with your life. 

The main difference between the contractions and grief is that eventually the contractions will end. I will deliver a baby and the contractions will fade away. With grief, there is no end in sight. At the beginning you may hope for a “cure” or for your grief to end, but that’s not how it works. Grief stays with you your whole life. It may settle down for a while, but it will eventually crash into you again. And you may just grow accustom to the achiness. 

But both labor contractions and grief come from a loving anticipation. I anticipate being united with my children. The contractions are my physical yearning to be united with Chet outside the womb, and the grief is my heart yearning to be reunited with Ginny in heaven. One of these days both will be satisfied. 

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” Romans 8:18

“I can do all things through him who strengthens me.” Philippians 4:13

Aimee Jones Concerning Suffering, Pregnancy After Loss

Dawn in the Valley

The shadow in the valley 
turns dark as night. 
In the long wait for dawn,
will there ever be light?

Will redemption come 
when new babies cry?
Or does the heaviness stay
because others still die?

The broken world claims
another poor little one. 
Is there beauty for ashes
provided by the Son? 

Help me to wait for 
the sky to break light anew. 
Through your eyes show me
what you want me to view. 

There is laud in lament.
There is joy in the sorrow.
There is love in grief.
There is hope in tomorrow.

Aimee Jones Pregnancy After Loss

Almost But Not Yet

This past Sunday/Father’s Day Chet was 34 weeks and 5 days along, the exact gestation Ginny was when she passed away. Chet moved a lot for me that day which gave me such peace of mind. God did comfort me on that day as he promised (RE: Waiting).

Tuesday I was 35 weeks and officially more pregnant than I have ever been. It felt good to hit that milestone…. then I started having contractions at around 6:30pm. Seriously!? I tracked them for a couple hours. They were painless but coming pretty consistently at between 7 and 12 minutes, so we called the after-hours line. The doctor told me to come in to be monitored since I’m only 35 weeks and high-risk. She said to be sure to bring the hospital bags. I thought to myself, “Well I made it one day further.” 

Daniel and I arrived at the hospital around 9:30pm. Thankfully we were both allowed in since I was going to Labor and Delivery Unit. They screened us, took our temperatures, and gave me a mask. Daniel kept his homemade mask. We made our way up to the Labor and Delivery floor where we hadn’t been since giving birth to Ginny. It looked the same except for a new wall of plexiglass. 

They took us into a triage room and started monitoring my contractions and Chet’s heart rate. It was clear I was having contractions every few minutes. Chet’s heartbeat looked great! My cervix was checked for dilation while they took swabs to check for any infection that could cause preterm labor. I was 2 cm dilated! Daniel and I looked at each other in shock behind the masks. They told me to drink a bunch of water and they would come back to check again in a couple hours. Two hours later, I was 3cm dilated! They decided to admit me to the antepartum unit. 

Prior to being admitted, I had to test negative for COVID-19. I was given one of those nasty nasal swabs. It was unpleasant but didn’t last long. It does feel like it touches your brain! Unsurprisingly my test came back negative. That meant that we don’t have to wear masks in the hospital room when we were by ourselves, but once a person comes in, we had to put masks back on. 

I was given an IV and quickly pumped with fluids. I was given one of two steroid shots to help Chet’s lungs mature in case he is on his way early. The next would be given in 24 hours, so we knew we would be at the hospital at least that much longer. We then moved to the antepartum unit. Chet and I continued to be monitored. I was checked again at 2am and had thankfully stayed at 3cm. I didn’t sleep much at all. Contractions kept coming, more intense but less consistent. Was Baby Chet coming today? Would my labor stop, and we’d be sent home? Would I be in limbo being monitored there for days?

In the morning, I was taken to get an ultrasound. Daniel couldn’t come with me. It was surreal to walk the halls of the hospital to the ultrasound clinic where we found out Ginny had died… in a gown and socks. The waiting room and halls were dark as it was still before normal hours. Everything was just different enough to keep from triggering anxiety. I tried not to think too hard about where I was. A sweet sonographer brought me into the room. I got to see Chet’s cute face again. The sonographer pointed out that he has lots of hair! We saw him squirm and take practice breaths. She measured him as well as the fluid around him. She said he is measuring an estimated 7.5 lbs! The average baby at 35 weeks measures around 5 lbs. He’s continuing to grow A LOT! 

I returned to the room and got to bring Daniel a couple of cute profile pictures. Before long, a team of MFM doctors came to our room. Since UNC is a teaching hospital, there was an attending doctor, a fellow, a resident, and an intern – all women. They explained that Chet looks great on the ultrasound and that he is indeed a big baby. They also explained that my amniotic fluid levels had increased even more from my ultrasound 3 weeks ago. They suspected that, even though I passed my glucose test several weeks earlier, I may have developed late gestational diabetes. This would explain Chet’s big size and the extra fluid. They would be monitoring my blood sugar after each meal. They explained that if Chet was born at 35 weeks, he would likely not have long term health problems but may have trouble with blood sugar and jaundice, both treatable. He may have to spend a little time in the NICU. They said they’d come back later to check my cervix again to see if labor was progressing. If labor stops progressing, they would send me home the next day after I get my second steroid shot. As the doctors were leaving, I told them that because of our loss, my mind is always trying to evaluate whether Chet is safer inside or outside. They said that they were doing the same thing, weighing all the risks. 

Throughout the day I felt nervous not knowing whether we would get to meet our boy sooner or later. Again, I have to hand over my need for control, my need to know everything, and my need to plan. I’m just not in control. 

My cervix remained unchanged and contractions became fewer and less predictable. It seemed that the IV fluids were working to help calm my body down. My blood sugar tests came back good, so gestational diabetes is not the cause of too much amniotic fluid. We still don’t know what the cause of there being excess fluid. We are praying that there is no actual problem and that Chet will be born healthy. I was then given the second steroid shot. On Thursday morning we saw the doctors again who said that Chet looks great on the monitor and they would send me home. I will be having some extra doctor appointments for the rest of the pregnancy, starting on Monday. 

I feel good that we got so much monitoring and Chet is doing great. I am also reassured that I got the steroid shots to strengthen his lungs if he does come early. I am happy to be home and to give Chet a little more time to mature. 

Having said that, I feel more than ever that holding my baby still feels at an arms reach. Even after having had contractions and gone to the hospital, it is hard to believe this will actually happen. We left the hospital with him still in my belly. We keep getting closer and closer but not actually getting there. I know we will get there; it just feels hard to believe sometimes. I fight my unbelief to hope for the day (maybe soon?) when we bring Chet home from the hospital. I can’t wait! 

Aimee Jones Milestones & Anniversaries, Pregnancy After Loss

Father’s Day

Daniel constantly impresses me and blesses me. He is an incredible father. He loves so well. His love for me, Ginny, and Chet reminds me that we are loved by God; so often it feels like God loves us through Daniel. I’m thrilled Chet will be raised by him, by someone with such a good heart…

  • He’s the father of two but has yet to see either child look up at him. 
  • He bravely cut an umbilical cord blackened by death and still has hope to cut a living cord.
  • He gets asked, “How’s Aimee?” 50 times for every one time he gets asked, “How are you?”.
  • He receives advice to be strong for me while knowing I need him to be broken with me.
  • He wants to fix things more than anything but knows he can’t. He still tries. 
  • He is always looking for ways to improve himself and better serve me. 
  • He is ready to take me to the hospital at a moment’s notice. He’s ready to face anything together. 
  • He mourns all the father-daughter experiences he is missing with Ginny. 
  • He is eager to have all the father-son experiences with Chet (starting with watching Game 7 of the 2016 World Series). 
  • He read The Hobbit aloud to Chet as soon as he learned Chet could hear in the womb.
  • Even though he isn’t allowed at doctor’s appointments, he sits right outside in the car for moral support. He wants to be as close as possible. 
  • He held his daughter’s body and wept.
  • He never left my side. 
  • He is filled with grief and love and hope and fear and sorrow and kindness and bravery and joy and laughter.  
  • He is a wonderful father.

Father’s Day can be complicated and difficult for bereaved dads. Loss fathers don’t get the sympathy and concern that loss mothers do. But they carry their grief and trauma and sorrow along with the weight of the mother’s pain on their shoulders. They deserve to be loved, supported, and honored on Father’s Day. 

Happy Father’s Day, Daniel! Thank you for being the best dad to Ginny and Chet and the best partner to me! 

Aimee Jones Pregnancy After Loss

Monitoring

Since we don’t know exactly what caused Ginny’s death, often this pregnancy feels like I’m in the middle of a monster movie sequel. It feels like a movie that never actually shows the monster, so I am free to let my imagination go wild. Will the monster show it’s face during this pregnancy? Will it appear suddenly or is it hiding and plotting? 

During this pregnancy I’m mostly concerned about Chet’s health, but at each appointment I’m also searching for more evidence about what happened to Ginny.  I get each new doctor’s perspective. I look for clues in each ultrasound. Thanks to additional monitoring, I do have more clues. 

In a previous blog I mentioned that in Ginny’s anatomy scan, they saw an intrauterine band. Ultrasounds during this pregnancy have shown that I don’t actually have an intrauterine band, but I do have a uterine septum, a divide in my uterus. The top of my uterus has two compartments that join at the bottom. When we realized this at an ultrasound this pregnancy, I asked the doctors if that could have contributed to Ginny’s death. They said it usually causes miscarriages, not stillbirths. They said it could have been the cause but there is no way of knowing. I wondered if perhaps the placenta had grown up on the septum and didn’t get the needed blood flow. I wasn’t going to get a confirmation. 

In a later ultrasound, I asked a different doctor if it looked like Chet’s placenta could grow onto the septum. She replied, “Oh it’s already way up in there”. I asked if there could be a reduced blood supply because of it. She said they would tell that by the baby’s growth. If the baby was happy, the placenta is happy. My baby is growing so all looks good, but we will need to monitor closely, as we are already doing.

At the ultrasound last week, we got to see Chet’s cute little face again! He has continued growing, and they estimate he is 5lbs now! But they also detected a slight excess of amniotic fluid. The doctors proceeded to list several issues that could cause this. Then they said none of those issues were possible in my case based off of previous test results. They said there may be nothing wrong and I may have extra fluid for no known reason. They recommended close monitoring, as we are already doing.

Now I have three things that push me into high risk category and deserve additional monitoring. But Chet is growing! He looks great so far and is moving a lot. That gives me so much hope, but does not ease all my fears.

As I try to stay as aware as possible during this pregnancy, I feel like I can’t trust my motherly instincts. My instincts didn’t alert me when Ginny was dying. And now that I’m that pregnant again, my fear just tells me to get the baby out ASAP. It isn’t safe! I know that’s not true right now, but my instinct tells me it is true. 

Sometimes all of this makes me feel so anxious. I get anxious for appointments. I get anxious as I think through different scenarios again and again. I get anxious as I have memories of Ginny’s death again and again. It does sometimes feel like there is a monster lurking around the corner. Do I think I have a chance at capturing it or killing it or even just escaping? 

During these moments of anxiousness, I have go back to an eternal mindset. I need to change my perspective again. Although the medical advice and monitoring are important,  I know that even if I had all the information in the world, I’m not in control. Even if all signs pointed to a good or bad outcome, it really can’t be known ahead of time. I have to remind myself that I am not the creator and sustainer of life. I have to trust God. The fact that Chet is growing well does give me hope, but I have hope beyond that. I have hope in heaven and restoration beyond this time, and God is with us. As much as I’d like to have control, reminding myself of this truth does help me exhale. It eases my anxiety a bit. I have to remind myself of this daily, sometimes hourly. 

“So neither he who plants nor he who waters is anything, but only God who gives growth.” 1 Corinthians 3:7 

“For I, the Lord your God, hold your right hand; it is I who say to you, ‘Fear not, I am the one who helps you.’” Isaiah 41:13

Aimee Jones Concerning Suffering, Faith-Based Encouragement

Man of Sorrows

“He was despised and rejected by men, a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not. Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed. All we like sheep have gone astray; we have turned—every one—to his own way; and the Lord has laid on him the iniquity of us all.” Isaiah 53:3-6

We live in a broken world. There is evil in the world. There is grief, pain, and injustice. Sometimes it hits us in the face. Sometimes it kills us. 

It hit Jesus in the face, and it killed Jesus. That’s why he is called the Man of Sorrows. His life was full of adversity. Plots to end his life started from his birth. He was a refugee. He wasn’t taken seriously. He was hated for questioning authority. He was hated for hanging out with shady people. He was hated for helping the wrong people at the wrong time. He was hated for speaking the truth. He didn’t feel safe in the city. He was a threat to the powers that be. He was beaten. He was murdered by authorities without a fair trial. He deserved none of that. It was injustice and evil that brought him to death. 

On the cross, he bore the blame of all our iniquity and transgressions. He carried all our sin, sorrow, afflictions. Because of this he is well acquainted with our grief. He has experienced our suffering. He knows the pain. His heart breaks with ours. 

“For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.” 2 Corinthians 1:5

But the death he experienced did not get the final word. The power of God overcame death. The power of God brought healing. 

And when Jesus left Earth again after being resurrected, He didn’t leave us alone. He left a Helper, the Holy Spirit. 

“I tell you the truth; it is to your advantage that I go away, for if I do not go away, the Helper will not come to you. But if I go, I will send him to you. And when he comes, he will convict the world concerning sin and righteousness and judgment.” John 16:7-8

The Holy Spirit is with us and empowers us with the power of God to also overcome evil.  We do have the power through the Holy Spirit to change the world. We have the power to overcome darkness, inequality, injustice, violence, and fear. We have the power to comfort and help each other in our suffering. Through the Holy Spirit, we can bring more of heaven here. We can bring justice, peace, and love. We can change the world by loving our neighbors. 

We need to stop, be quiet, and listen. Listen to the Holy Spirit, listen to the Word, listen to the brothers and sisters around you with an open heart. When you get a nudging from the Holy Spirit on what to say or do, follow it! 

“For the Holy Spirit will teach you in that very hour what you ought to say.” Luke 12:12

“The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness, self-control; against such things there his no law.” Galatians 5:22

We are not alone in our suffering. 

The Man of Sorrows is acquainted with our grief. 

He is broken hearted. 

He empowers us by giving us the Helper. 

Listen.

Love.

“May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that by the power of the Holy Spirit you may abound in hope.” Romans 15:13

Title: Man of Sorrows, Artist: Unknown Artist 15th Century

Aimee Jones Pregnancy After Loss

Realistic Prayers During Pregnancy After Loss

I’ve read pregnancy devotionals full of prayers of hope, expectancy, and joy for women. These are wonderful for most pregnant women, but for loss moms those prayers can sometimes be really hard. As much as I’d like to meditate on prayers of training my children in the way they should go or the plans God has for the long life of my little one, more often I can only muster enough hope to pray for my baby to survive one more day. Personally the prayers below are more realistic for my pregnancy after loss. These are one-line prayers that I often find myself reciting throughout the day. These prayers may not be as hopeful or expectant, but they are trusting. They are not as joyful, but they are still grateful. However I pray, I know the Holy Spirit intercedes for me with “groaning too deep for words.”

1st Trimester:

Help me

Thank you for nausea 

Please no blood

Thank you for a heartbeat

Thank you for no blood

2nd Trimester:

Help me

Thank you for a heartbeat

Protect this baby, but your will be done

Thank you for pictures

Thank you for no blood

Thank you for movement

3rd Trimester:

Help me

Protect this baby, but your will be done

Thank you for no blood

Thank you for hip pain 

Thank you for heart burn

Thank you for movement

Thank you for growth

Please let this baby live, but your will be done

Bless this baby

Your will be done

“The Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” Romans 8:26

Aimee Jones Early Grief, Pregnancy After Loss

From: Ginny, To: Chet

When taking down Ginny’s nursery, our family asked us if we wanted to keep things for our future children. What if we have a girl? We have so many cute girl things. I agreed to keep the crib, stroller, pack-n-play, and other large items. We bought those with our whole future family in mind. But those clothes are specifically Ginny’s; those blankets are Ginny’s. If we have other children, we wanted them to have their own things. It was too hard to think of Ginny’s things sitting in storage for who knows how long to be kept for a child that may or may not ever exist. Someone could use these things now. We kept a couple keepsakes and gave the rest away. Ginny wouldn’t be handing down her things to her siblings as she likely would’ve if she lived. 

The donation pile in our garage grew. Week after week, we never had the heart to take it to Goodwill.  A few times I said, “We should just call someone from church and ask them to pick everything up and take care of it.” But we never had the strength to do even that. The donation boxes loomed in the garage. It was an emotional chore we were never ready for. We chose to give the stuff away so that it would be used and wouldn’t sit in storage, and here it was sitting. After months the garage was a place we didn’t even enter. It was a shadow that held a piece of our untapped grief.

A few months into pregnancy with Chet, Daniel decided it was time to tackle the garage. We entered with determination and started filling the trunk of the car with stuff. I saw the nursery decor. I saw the birdhouse sign that once had Ginny’s name but now was blank with a little glue residue. I saw her crib sheets. I saw her clothes and blankets and socks. We continued loading the car. I didn’t change my mind… except for two items…

The first item brought back a vivid memory of early grief. It arrived on our front porch two days after we got home from the hospital after delivering Ginny. It wasn’t a care package. It was the diaper bag that I ordered the week before. It was a last minute item that I ordered when the world was still right. When it showed up, it was a cruel reminder of what we had lost. Well at least we can return it and get our money back. I had ordered the diaper bag from Walmart on a baby sale day. The week after it arrived, Daniel and I decided we would venture to Walmart to return the diaper bag. That was a terrible idea. It was still too early. That shouldn’t have been our first outing without family. 

In early grief, going in public feels sort of like an out of body experience. I didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin. I felt like no one could see me… or that everyone was staring at me. Everything was fuzzy and felt foreign. We walked into Walmart and were immediately greeted by two friendly greeters. They gave us a sticker for the return item. I’m sure I made an awkward effort at politeness, but I was thinking, “Don’t they find it strange that we are returning a diaper bag? Why would someone return a perfectly good diaper bag if not for the unnatural tragedies of a fallen world?” Now thinking back I know there are plenty of good reasons to return a diaper bag, but that was how my mind worked at the time. 

We stood in line at customer service. When our turn came, the young woman at the counter informed us that since we bought this on the Walmart “Marketplace” we could not return it in store. I snapped at her, “So you’re telling me that I can’t return something I bought on walmart.com at Walmart?!” “That’s correct. You’ll have to go online and print the return label and send it through FedEx or something.” I wanted to scream, “I don’t even want to return this stupid diaper bag!! I want to use this diaper bag, but my baby died!!”  I felt myself turning red and my eyes swelling up. I grabbed the diaper bag and quickly turned around. Tears started streaming down my face as Daniel and I walked as fast as we could out of there. The friendly greeters saw I was crying as I rushed by. One shouted, “Oh no dear! What happened?! I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry!” It wasn’t Walmart’s fault; we weren’t ready for that chore. When we got home, still wrapped in plastic, the diaper bag got tossed on top of the donation pile in the garage.

Months later when we were loading the car full of the donation items, I stopped on the diaper bag. It’s a perfectly good diaper bag that I carefully picked out. It’s still in the plastic. This wasn’t specifically Ginny’s; it never even entered the house before she was gone. I remembered that the lining was blue. I settled for a bag with blue lining because I liked everything else about it. Maybe this blue diaper bag should be Chet’s. Why not? Suddenly this item that brought a painful memory of crying in Walmart transformed into something that held a little hope for the future. We have a diaper bag for our new baby. It was bought for Ginny, but now it’s Chet’s. 

The second item I saved took me by surprise. This item was a soft blue teddy bear. It was actually given to us at the hospital. It was part of the memory box that our wonderful nurse carefully assembled. The memory box means more to me than any other physical item. It is so precious to us. But I didn’t understand the teddy bear. It was very kindly donated by the parents of stillborn twins. This was before I knew that many grieving mothers hold a teddy bear to ease their aching empty arms. To me it was a reminder that there was no reason to have a toy bear in our house. We have no children to play with it. Plus it was blue; it reminded me of a baby boy, not Ginny. I thought it would be better for a little boy to play with it than for it to sit in a box, so I put it in the donation pile.

Months later when I saw that little blue bear in the garage it struck me. That bear reminds me of a baby boy because it belongs to Chet. It is Ginny’s gift to Chet. The rest of the items in the memory box were for Daniel and me, but that bear was for Chet. It felt like when Ginny died, she left behind a gift for her baby brother. A blue teddy bear. 

These two items moved from the garage to the nursery upstairs, awaiting Baby Chet. The remainder of the items were donated and are hopefully being enjoyed by many other families with living baby girls. I wish we wouldn’t have dreaded donating the items or felt guilty for taking so long. It’s important to take all the time you need when grieving and to not feel bad about it. I’m glad we waited to finish that chore. Those months gave us the space to see the items not as sources of pain but as gifts. 

Aimee Jones Pregnancy After Loss

Growing

Last Thursday we had the highly anticipated 28 week ultrasound. It was the first 3rd trimester growth scan. This is how we will catch and prevent what happened to Ginny from happening to Chet. I had been nervous all week; the worst moment of my life was at an ultrasound in the 3rd trimester. I wanted to see Chet’s face and know how he was doing, but I couldn’t help but be anxious.

Daniel couldn’t come in with me, but we’d be able to FaceTime. Even though he could’ve done that from home, he still drove me and sat waiting in the car. He wanted to be as near as possible. He wanted to be able to come in if anything went wrong. 

I walked into the building; it was the 2nd time in two months that I’ve walked through any doors except home. The 1st time was my previous doctor’s appointment. I was immediately given a mask and asked to sanitize my hands. The sonographer was already ready for me. It was an older man. I tried to ease my own tension by joking through my mask, “I don’t know why I put lip gloss on today. That was pointless.” He joked back that he never wears lip gloss. 

We entered the room and started the ultrasound. He immediately went to the heartbeat. I was so grateful for that. It was a strong heartbeat. He showed 4 chambers pumping blood. I exhaled, and called Daniel on FaceTime. We could hear birds chirping over my phone speaker from Daniel in the car with windows down. The sound brought a little cheeriness to the dark room. 

The sonographer measured Chet’s head and abdomen. We saw the stomach and kidneys. He measured the fluid. Then he took picture after picture of Chet’s cute little face! We got profiles and 3D pictures! The sonographer said he could do this all day. He proceeded to print a CVS-receipt-sized series of adorable pictures! This more than made up for the lack of pictures from the anatomy scan. Joy filled my heart as I stared at our son’s face. Daniel was smiling. 

I was brought to a waiting room until my doctor consultation. I sent the pictures to our families. Even though I didn’t yet know if Chet was growing on track, I got so much comfort from just seeing his face. 

The doctor called my name, and as we entered the consultation room she said, “Well you have a big boy!” She said he was growing really well and was in the 75th percentile. I was handed a paper that said “3lbs 7oz”. That’s 2oz bigger than Ginny was at birth! The doctor said we will continue monitoring, but he looks good and healthy. 

Wow! He’s big. He’s already bigger than his sister at almost 7 weeks younger. This doesn’t guarantee anything, but it does give me loads of hope. Perhaps we will welcome him into our arms! 

My next growth ultrasound will be at 32 weeks, and then the following week I will start weekly non-stress tests.  I’m excited to see him again. Until then I will be admiring his cute cheeks, nose, lips, and hands in these precious photos.

Aimee Jones Milestones & Anniversaries

Mothers

Even though I live across the country and I haven’t seen my mom since Christmas, I still know the feeling of her soft hands. I can imagine leaning my head on her shoulder. Her touch, her voice, her fast-paced strides across the house are all so familiar and comforting to me. She’s the first person I ever knew. She knows me so well. We are connected in ways I don’t even understand. 

That’s why I couldn’t keep the secret when Daniel and I found out I was pregnant with Ginny. I tried for a couple days. When I spoke to my mom during that time, I felt like a liar for keeping it from her. Somehow she was going to just know. I was convinced her motherly instincts would just know, and then I would have to tell her by answering her questions instead of a sweet surprise. We caved and told family after a couple days. haha I don’t know for sure that she would’ve sensed it, but I bet she would have.

She was the first person I called after we found out Ginny had died. Then I called Daniel’s mom. They were the only two family members who held Ginny’s body. Their hearts broke because they missed their granddaughter, but also their hearts broke for us – their children whom they carried in their wombs. They were broken because we were broken. 

A bond between a mother and a child is powerful. It’s fueled by the mother’s love. I’ve always noticed a certain desperation that appears in a woman’s eyes once she becomes a mother. It’s like she is bearing something so valuable and is so afraid of losing it. She has so much love to bear. I’ve felt that desperation. But the truth is you can never lose the love for a child. You can lose the child, but the love stays with you forever. That’s what makes someone a mother – that love. 

You don’t have to have a child in your arms to feel that love. You don’t have to have given birth or been pregnant to feel that love. You don’t have to have someone call you “mom” to feel that love. 

Mother’s Day was hard last year. I knew I was a mother. I wanted to celebrate and honor that fact, but it just wasn’t obvious to the world. I had no baby. But if anyone could see inside my heart, they would see the love I had for Ginny. They could see my motherhood. So last year, I dressed up and went to church, knowing the Mother’s Day service might be painful. During the part of the service where we greet each other and “pass the peace”, another mother who knew my story came up to me from across the room. She hugged me so hard. She told me that I am a mother, a wonderful mother and that she was so proud of me. Tears started flowing down my face. That’s what I needed to hear. I needed someone to acknowledge my motherhood. 

Daniel took me out to a nice lunch afterward, and I received a sweet bouquet of tulips from a friend back in Oklahoma. I was blessed, and I was proud of myself for not hiding away. 

This year my motherhood is more obvious because of my bulging belly. I love that. 

Daniel and I were on a walk the other day. We passed by a cute family with 5 young children on scooters and strollers. The mom looked at me and said, “Hang in there. You’re almost there, Mama!” It took me a second to realize she was talking to me. I couldn’t stop smiling for ten minutes after that. It felt so good for another mother to not only acknowledge my motherhood, but also give me encouraging words to help get through these last couple months of pregnancy. People have no idea how impactful their simple words are. 

If you are a mother without a child this Mother’s Day, know you are a mother. Know that you deserve to be celebrated and that your love is still so powerful. Know that the bond with your child is real and unbroken. Happy Mother’s Day! 

I’m so grateful for my mom, mother-in-law, and grandmothers this Mother’s Day. They encourage me everyday, and I feel their love always. 

For those of you who are missing your mother or have a strained relationship with your mother or your children, I’m so sorry. God loves you with the power of a mother’s love and much more. 

“As one whom his mother comforts, so I will comfort you.” Isaiah 66:13