Aimee Jones Uncategorized

Born to Die

If you’ve lost a baby like I have, it may feel particularly hard to celebrate a holiday all about a young mother giving birth to a perfect baby. It seems there are triggers all around. 

I remind myself that the reason we celebrate the birth of Jesus is because he was born to die. He was born and lived a sinless life only to suffer the punishment of sin in our place. Because of Jesus’s birth and death, God knows what it’s like to lose a child. Because of Jesus’s birth, death, and resurrection, our children experience life and love in heaven. Because of Jesus’s birth, death, and resurrection we will be reunited one day. That’s something to celebrate! 

You may still not feel like celebrating this year, and that’s ok. There are more years to come.

Aimee Jones Concerning Suffering

Comfort Zone

When someone experiences loss, they not only have to face their new reality, but they also are bombarded with philosophical and societal questions. These questions would be hard to face in the best of times. 

Do I actually have no control?

Why did this happen?

Was God in control? How could he let this happen?

What does this mean about my reality?

How would my situation be different if I was in a different place or time?

How would grief be handled differently if I was in a different place or time?

Could this been prevented? Should this be prevented?

These questions expand your world view. You think differently than you once did. You realize that we truly do live in a broken world. 

It becomes impossible to go back to sitting atop your Maslow hierarchy pyramid, staging your perfect Instagram picture.

You can’t help but see your neighbor in the depths of their own pyramid. You have to jump down to meet them there – maybe to help, but most likely to just be present with them there. 

When you see the fullness of life that’s brought forth through suffering, you don’t shy away from suffering the way you once had. You don’t ask advice from the person with the perfect life you’ve always wanted. You now ask the person who has been through the wringer. You aren’t afraid of interacting with people in pain. In fact, sometimes it’s easier to interact with them than the “happy” people. 

When you witness or experience suffering it is often difficult to go back to “normal” life. Many people don’t go back. Students on a missions trip choose to be full-time missionaries. Patients become doctors or nurses. People become social workers, first responders, service men and women, foster parents. These people run toward suffering, knowing their life will be fuller. A comfortable life is not a full life. A pretty life is not a full life. Love is more powerful in pain than it is in comfort. 

Most of us face suffering because we have no choice, but once you have faced it, you find yourself able to walk with others who are going through hardship. That’s a gift. 

You see suffering in places you never looked before. You may have ignored the experiences of someone different from you. You now see their pain, and you don’t look away. You stay there with them. You try to understand. 

Reaching out of my comfort zone used to mean giving a big presentation at work or signing up for a challenging project. It was an opportunity to expand my skills and climb the ladder. Now stepping out of my comfort zone is talking to people I wouldn’t have, admitting things I used to never admit, sharing my heart, and truly listening to others. There’s much more love in these things. 

Aimee Jones Milestones & Anniversaries

How to parent a child who is not here this Christmas

I’m still her mom. I still have all the desire to mother her this Christmas… and everyday. But how does one mother a child who isn’t here? These are my plans. I’ll let you know how it goes. 

Keep Her Memory

  • Talk about her. Bring her into conversation. 
  • Remember last Christmas when I was carrying her. 
  • Hang an ornament for her. Our amazing friends Katie and Josh had a beautiful one made for us.
  • Hang her stocking as a visual reminder that we have a daughter in heaven.

Create Traditions

  • Donate Christmas gifts to a child in need each year (Angel Tree, Toys for Tots, etc). We will use the money we would’ve spent on Ginny for Christmas. I’ve asked our family to do the same.
  • Write her a letter every year and place it in her stocking. My mom planned on doing this since we first lost Ginny.

Do Good on Her Behalf

  • Have a day of random acts of kindness in honor of Ginny. I heard of a family who does this and hands out little cards that say, “Random Acts of Kindness in honor of ___. Pass it on!”
  • Volunteer for an organization that helps those going through hard times.

Acknowledge My Loss

  • Give myself grace about how I feel during Christmas; lower expectations if needed.
  • Give myself space to step away if I need to; communicate to family that this might be needed.
  • Know this is hard.

Celebrate the Hope of Christ

  • Because Jesus came, death is not the end. We will be reunited with Ginny!
  • The glory of Jesus is real to us in a new way this year. Rejoice in that!
Aimee Jones Faith-Based Encouragement, Milestones & Anniversaries

Gratitude

Knowing the outcome, I would do it all over again. If given the choice to be spared from all the pain and grief and sorrow and not have been pregnant with Ginny, I would choose to have Ginny every time. I wouldn’t take it back for anything. 

From that aspect, I am grateful. I’m thankful for the time we had with Ginny. I’m thankful to have delivered her body, and I’m thankful for all I’ve learned in grieving her. 

That being said, sometimes it is so hard to be grateful. This season should be a time of thanksgiving. Don’t ask me to share what I’m thankful for. She was supposed to be here this holiday. She was supposed to be part of all the family gatherings. She was supposed to be my biggest blessing. She’s not here for it; she’s missing. I’m not grateful for that. 

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” Philippians 4:6

This verse is hard for me right now. I totally get the next verse, “And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” I have experienced that. But making my requests known to God is difficult when my last request was denied. And to do so with thanksgiving seems impossible. I can hand over control. I can ask that His will be done. I can ask for peace. But I am unable to thankfully ask for anything else. Does it even matter what I ask? I trust that his plan is better than mine. Isn’t that enough? I don’t know. 

I have been blessed in countless ways. So many of my prayers have been answered, and only one has been denied – a big one. I should be grateful. I should celebrate this holiday with thanksgiving. I will try, but I’ll also try to give myself grace if I can’t. God knows my heart, and he gives me sufficient grace through all my ungratefulness and even anger. When I don’t know how to pray and supplicate, the Holy Spirit intercedes on my behalf (Romans 8:26). He holds me in my hurt and in my joy. 

Aimee Jones Milestones & Anniversaries

One Year Ago – The Anatomy Scan

During the first half of pregnancy, I was so eager to find out whether our baby was a boy or a girl. We would have to wait for the anatomy scan at 20 weeks. That seemed forever away! As we got closer, we realized that we could schedule the anatomy scan for when Daniel’s parents were in town for Thanksgiving. That added an extra layer of excitement!

We anxiously waited. We had names picked out for a boy or a girl. We held off on buying any clothes. I didn’t really have an accurate hunch on the sex. One day I would say, “Yeah I think it’s definitely a girl!”, and then the next I would say, “Actually I’m feeling boy.” I had no idea! haha

I knew that the anatomy scan was to measure the growth and development of different parts of the body, but all I was really focused on was finding out the sex. I was too excited to worry about anything that could be wrong. Now after hearing so many baby loss stories, I know that the anatomy scan can be a very scary appointment. But then I was naive and hopeful. 

The day finally arrived! Daniel’s parents and I parked and walked the long path to the NC Women’s Hospital. We eagerly sat and chatted in the waiting room, hoping to hear my name called any minute. This is the same waiting room and offices where we would come months later to learn the horrible news. But that room was untainted then. 

My name was called! All four of us squeezed in the little ultrasound room. A very friendly ultrasound technician welcomed us. She asked questions about our family and whether we wanted to know whether it’s boy or girl. We quickly answered “YES!”. We were so excited!

She began the ultrasound. We could see our baby wiggling. We could see the heart beating and blood moving through the cord. She showed us the brain, kidneys, stomach, heart, lungs, liver, etc. Everything looked great! Growth was on track and healthy. When the technician framed the long-awaited “crotch shot”, there was no question. It was quite obvious….IT’S A GIRL! Daniel and I looked at each other, “We are going to have a little girl.” There was so much love in that moment. Daniel’s parents were so thrilled and happy. 

The technician took some cute pictures of her feet, her face, her body. She even did a 3D scan of her face. I couldn’t believe we were looking at our daughter. I couldn’t be happier!

After the scan, a doctor came in to go over the results. The baby girl looked healthy! I did have a small intrauterine band (not amniotic band which the doctor told me not to google). The band would not cause a problem and was out of the way of the baby. I was relieved and not at all worried. Of all the things that could be abnormal, that’s probably the best.  

We started walking out of the hospital. I whispered to Daniel, “Do you want to share the name?” He agreed. We stopped just outside the doors and told Daniel’s parents. Her name is Virginia Hope Jones; we would call her Ginny! We all teared up and hugged. Ginny was the name of Daniel’s great-grandmother who they were all very close to and I so wish I had the chance to meet.

I looked at my phone and realized I had several missed texts from my family. They were impatiently waiting to hear the results. I called my mom and told her, “It’s a girl! She is Virginia Hope Jones!” She was so excited and happy. My whole family guessed it would be a girl. I texted the rest of the family. They were all so excited! 

From that point on, we really knew her – our daughter Ginny! She was cute and perfect and healthy. We couldn’t wait to meet her in April! Little did we know, that wouldn’t happen.

That day is probably the best memory I have of our pregnancy with Ginny. That was the most time we got to see her alive. I’m so incredibly grateful for that day. I knew it would be an important day, but I didn’t know just how precious those memories would become. November 20, 2018 is a day I will never forget!

Aimee Jones Uncategorized

How to Help a Grieving Friend

I’m no expert at this. All I know is what I’ve drawn from my own experience and what I’ve learned from dozens of books, podcasts, and blogs over the past several months. 

I’ve learned so much about grief that I never knew. I realized I was wrong about a lot of things prior to my own loss. Because we don’t talk about grief very often, there are so many misconceptions. Below I’ve compiled a list of some of those misconceptions along with truths I’ve learned. Many of the unhelpful things people say are true. They are true, but they don’t provide any comfort in the moment. People need to feel validated in their pain. Hope for the future or a purpose doesn’t make the present loss less painful. The best thing to do is to acknowledge your friend’s suffering. Then remember their loved one. Don’t be afraid to mention their name. 

For those who have gone through loss, do you agree or disagree with anything on these lists? Is there anything you would add?

Aimee Jones Concerning Suffering, Faith-Based Encouragement

The Evolution of Hope in Hardship

I’m going to describe my experiences. Everyone’s experience is different. I’m still on my journey. Some days are more hopeful than others. Along with all of my blog posts, these are my thoughts at the moment.

Hardship hit when we lost Ginny earlier this year; we were completely heartbroken. How do we get back to a place of hope after that? It has been an evolution. Hope today doesn’t look like what it did in those first moments. In those first moments, hope looked like survival.

It was something we couldn’t conjure ourselves. We could barely live the next minute. How could we look for hope? 

We didn’t need to. God was right there immediately. We cried out, and he held us right away. How can I describe it? It was like a warm blanket of love covering us, surrounding us. Taking some of the weight off of us. It was undeniable. It was perceivable. It was a “peace that surpasses all understanding” (Philippians 4:7). I never truly knew the Holy Spirit as comforter until that moment. 

While sitting with Daniel after we received the terrible news, I remember quoting Psalm 23:4, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me.” I had never been in the shadow of death before then. I had never felt God with me in this way before. Just to know we were not alone was hope to get through that moment. It was the hope we needed. 

That comfort got us through Ginny’s birth and the first couple of days. When it was clear that we might just physically survive this, we had to look to the future – the big empty dark future. Grief was so so heavy. Waking up each day and continuing was exhausting. How could this possibly be okay? God answered that it is not okay, but love is bigger than this loss.  Our love for Ginny and God’s love for us is bigger than we knew. Love is bigger than this terrible thing. Love doesn’t make it okay, but love does make it worth it. Our love stays with us. That’s all the hope we needed for those next moments. 

As the weeks went by, I spent more time thinking about heaven. I thought about what it’ll be like when I’m reunited with Ginny in heaven. One of my biggest comforts was the thought that our time apart is a small blip compared to the time we will spend together in heaven. I thought a lot about our understanding of time and eternity. I thought about how small this time of sorrow is in the scheme of eternity. I thought of Romans 8:18, “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.” This isn’t to minimize our suffering, but it is to put it into an eternal context. We are not separated forever; we are separated for now (that’s still so painful). 

An eternal mindset is not one that looks forward to heaven one day. An eternal mindset is one that brings heaven to the here and now. Our love for Ginny is not dead; it is here with us now and it will continue to grow. Our reconciliation with God is not for a future state; it is for here, now. Embrace the love, embrace the good news, embrace life that’s yours. 

Part of embracing life is to keep your eyes and ears open to what the Holy Spirit is showing you. Throughout my life, I’ve continually been attempting to grow closer to god and hear his voice. I feel like I’ve made small strides through the word, worship, prayer, and relationships. But it is when something big like this happens that you can make huge strides towards God and his will for your life. When my life is flipped upside down, I am finally truly listening. I’ve made real changes in my life and career. My path has crossed with others in unbelievable ways; it is clear God has brought us together. I’m not sure where all of this is going. But for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m where I am supposed to be and doing what I’m supposed to be doing. It gives me excitement and hope for what’s next. It feels bigger than the plans I’ve made in the past. In my life, I feel heaven got a little closer. 

This connection to heaven, this eternal mindset, this realization of love bigger than loss, and this fear-quenching comfort have given me the hope I need to keep moving forward. I’ve never needed this much hope. Now I need it, and I have it. 

“Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or danger, or sword? As it is written, ‘For your sake we are being killed all the day long; we are regarded as sheep to be slaughtered.’ No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.” – Romans 8:35-39

Aimee Jones Early Grief, Milestones & Anniversaries

Fantasy

I awaken to her early morning cries. I slowly crawl out of bed, and pick her up. I kiss her forehead and lay her on the changing table. I change her diaper as she squirms. I zip her sleeper back up and scoop her into my arms. We head over to the rocking chair.  I realize how big she’s getting; her body and legs cross over me and her little feet slide through the hole under the armrest.  She plays with my hair as she nurses. I wonder what she’s thinking about…

Is my fantasy realistic? How would I know? 

Is it healthy to fantasize about how things would’ve been? I don’t know that either. But sometimes I do let myself indulge in the sweet “what ifs”. 

Maybe it would be better to fantasize about heaven…

I see her loved and warm in Jesus’s arms. 

I see her being rocked to sleep by my PopPop or Daniel’s Grandma Ginny. 

I see her dancing with an angel. I know she’s playful.

Is she a baby in heaven? Will she grow up? Or is she an ageless being? 

I think she’ll greet me when I die. I imagine recognizing her right away in light and hugging her so hard. 

Is heaven somewhere else? Is heaven here? Can she hear me or see me or feel me? I just want her to know I love her. I pray and ask Jesus to let her know. Maybe she already does. I hope she knows her daddy and me and how much we love and miss her. 

I remember being pregnant with her and talking to her. I told her, “We love you, Ginny! Mommy and Daddy love you so much.” I could barely get the words out through tears. I couldn’t contain my love. I was so happy. I fantasized about holding her and taking care of her then too. I asked Daniel, “Can you believe that in 3 months we will have a one-month old?!” We laughed at each other with wide eyes. 

Sometimes it feels like I’m still pregnant with her, like we are still waiting. I’m still fantasizing. I’m still hoping she feels my love. 

She is getting older in my fantasies though. She’d be 8 months old if she was born on her birthday, and she would be almost 7 months old if she was born on her due date. Would she be sitting up on her own? Would she be eating food; would she like avocados, bananas, mashed potatoes? Would we have taken her for her first road trip to the ocean or the mountains? We’d push a stroller on our walks. She’d be there with us watching OU football and picking out pumpkins. I’d be thinking about what to get her for Christmas and choosing a “baby’s first Christmas” ornament….

Back to reality — How wonderful that she gets to celebrate her first Christmas with Jesus! She probably has a better understanding of the salvation and glory of Christ than we do. That thought does comfort me, but we will still have an empty stocking. 

Will my mind always drift in and out of two realities? – the would’ve been and the actually is. Maybe one day the two will meet when Ginny and I are reunited. 

Aimee Jones Early Grief

Symptoms: Postpartum or Grief?

I’ve experienced a lot of symptoms over the past several months. Sometimes it’s confusing whether what I’m feeling is due to having just had a baby or having just lost a baby. I end up playing a quiz game – Is it postpartum or grief? 

Some symptoms are pretty straight forward: milk coming in – postpartum, thoughts of heaven – grief. 

Most of the symptoms are confusing: brain fog/memory loss, physical pain/achiness, crying frequently, hair loss, feeling isolated, fatigue. Those could be symptoms of either or both.  

Then I have those symptoms that feed off of one another. Postpartum instincts make me feel the urge to hold, feed, and check on my baby, which in turn is a cruel reminder my baby is gone. Then my grief symptoms get worse. 

If you’ve had a baby, you probably remember the surveys the doctors give you. These surveys are to check for postpartum depression. You take a little questionnaire about how much you cry and how you are coping throughout pregnancy and then after you give birth. Doctors use the results to determine if you may be experiencing some of the signs of postpartum depression or anxiety. 

I pitifully took the final installment of the survey at my 6-week check-up after my stillbirth. This isn’t looking good, I thought to myself as I was checking boxes. I cry all the time. My doctor looked at my sheet and said she thought what I was feeling was normal grief symptoms. She told me to let her know if I ever feel like I can’t function to do the daily tasks I need to as a part of normal life. That may be a sign of postpartum depression. I’m sure my survey would’ve raised some serious red flags had I had a normal birth, but I didn’t. I was healthy in grief. 

Postpartum depression was one of my biggest worries during pregnancy. I was so afraid it would steal some of the joy of having a newborn. I knew it was pretty common, and I have friends who have experienced it. It’s another dark heavy aspect of motherhood that people don’t like to talk about. It is much more common than we know (in fact, 10% of dads also experience postpartum depression). I have such sympathy to those who are going through that. 

But thankfully I wasn’t.  Even in all my tears and pain and sorrow after losing Ginny, I knew I didn’t have postpartum depression or anxiety. I knew because I knew what it felt like not to feel myself. I had anxiety during the first trimester of pregnancy. I felt like I was about to give a big important presentation to 100 people…all. the. time. I felt so nervous that I had to force myself to eat and I had trouble sleeping. I knew my job was stressful, but I had handled more stressful projects with ease in the past. When friends asked me how I was feeling, I’d say, “Thankfully I don’t have much nausea, but man these pregnancy hormones are kicking my butt. haha!” Then inside I’d be thinking I don’t think I can do this. I’ve never felt this way before. What am I going to do? I would go to the bathroom at work and cry. I was not my normal joyful self, even though I was so happy to be pregnant. Those hormones mess with your brain chemistry, and it is really tough. I’m so glad that that anxiety went away after the first trimester. I felt so much better from then on out in my pregnancy. 

And in my grief, I still felt like myself. I still feel that joy deep in my heart, through all the sadness. I’m so grateful for that because I know stillbirth can be a perfect storm for depression and anxiety. Then you have an even harder quiz: postpartum, grief, or depression. So many overlapping symptoms!

The further I get from Ginny’s birth, the less and less I experience the postpartum and grief symptoms. I’m still grieving and always will be, but the grief symptoms have changed. I don’t break down quite as easily, I’m not as tired all the time, and I’m no longer afraid to be alone. I do still think about Ginny all the time and cry pretty often. 

My postpartum symptoms, for the most part, have all gone away. I lost A LOT of hair between 3 and 6 months postpartum, but that was the last major change. 

This may sound crazy, but I know other Loss Moms have shared the same thing… It is actually comforting to experience postpartum or grief symptoms now, several months out. Every once in a while, my hip with ache like it did before and after birth. I’ll smile to myself and think, Yeah that really did happen. I didn’t dream it. I really am a mom. And when another hard wave of grief hits me, and I’ll feel a little comfort in that pain. I’m reminded that my heart still knows Ginny; I haven’t forgotten. 

I don’t know how long these symptoms will last, but I know there is one that will never go away – my increased LOVE. I love so much more now. I’m not sure if that is due to having a baby or losing a baby, but either way, it is here for good. 

Aimee Jones Concerning Suffering, Faith-Based Encouragement

When the Answer is No

“Again I say to you, if two of you agree on earth about anything they ask, it will be done for them by my Father in heaven. For where two or three are gathered in my name, there am I among them.” – Matthew 18:19-20

“Whatever you ask in my name, this I will do, that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If you ask me anything in my name, I will do it.” – John 14:13-14

These were the scriptures I had in my heart when Daniel and I were begging for Ginny’s life. In that dark ultrasound room, the technician said that she was having trouble finding the heartbeat. I started panicking. Then I remembered that my God works miracles. The technician left to get a doctor, and Daniel and I prayed harder than we’ve ever prayed before. In Jesus Name Ginny Will Be Born Alive!! We are asking for a MIRACLE! Please please let Ginny grow up. Give her life! Please FATHER!!

The doctor arrived, “I’m so sorry.” We had our answer. I was shocked. 

I was in shock that Ginny was gone. And I was shocked that the answer was no. I had faith! I believed! 

I’ve seen miracles. I know of pain gone, cancer gone, accidents avoided, lives spared, lives restored, unexpected provisions. I knew God could. But God didn’t.

God said no then swept us up in his arms and comforted us. I could very strongly feel his love for us and his broken heart, and yet the answer was still no. 

That whole night and next morning, I knew my family’s prayers. They were praying for more than my peace. They were praying for a miracle. They hadn’t had the chance to petition God for Ginny’s life. 

That’s why I was not surprised when we got to the hospital and my mom asked the doctor to “double check” that Ginny was gone. She didn’t mind when the doctor said that they had double checked yesterday. She knew God could raise her from the dead. But I had my answer. I did have the chance to petition. I knew in my heart the answer was no. In tears I told my mom, “She’s not here.” She accepted that, and we moved forward with the induction.

In the days since, I’ve been drawn to passages that I’ve glazed over in the past. Passages I didn’t want to focus on before. Passages of “no”. 

One of these is 2 Corinthians 12:7-9 where Paul describes a “thorn” in his flesh. A physical ailment that he asked God to remove three times. God answered no each time and responded that his “grace is sufficient for you.” God did not answer in the way that Paul wanted. God used Paul’s pain to reveal the power of his grace to cover all weaknesses.

“So to keep me from becoming conceited because of the surpassing greatness of the revelations, a thorn was given me in the flesh, a messenger of Satan to harass me, to keep me from becoming conceited. Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” – 2 Corinthians 12:7-9

Another even more powerful example is when Jesus is praying before his betrayal and crucifixion. He asked that this “cup” (his fate) be removed. It was clear that the answer was no in Matthew 27:46 when Jesus cried, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Jesus had to face his fate and bear the sin of the world on that cross.

“And going a little farther, he fell on the ground and prayed that, if it were possible, the hour might pass from him. And he said, ‘Abba, Father, all things are possible for you. Remove this cup from me. Yet not what I will, but what you will.’” – Mark 14:35-36

“And about the ninth hour Jesus cried out with a loud voice, saying, ‘Eli, Eli lema sabachthani?’ That is, ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’” Matthew 27:46

In looking at both of these examples, we see the pain and suffering of the moment. But we know the bigger story and can see the eternal context. We can zoom out and see God’s grace covering Paul’s weakness. We can fast forward three days and see Jesus’s resurrection and the redemption of the world. The moments seemed hopeless and desperate, but that is not the whole story. Love and grace get the final say. 

I don’t know much, but perhaps the same is true for our stories. In the moments that God answers no, we only see disappointment. But maybe one day we will be able to zoom out and see the whole story in an eternal context. Maybe we will one day know the “third day” of our situation – one that stems from the redemption of Jesus’s third day. 

During my pregnancy, I prayed for two babies. I prayed for Ginny, and I prayed for a friend of a friend who I heard had a terrible diagnosis. From genetic testing, it was determined that this other baby had a very high probability of having a genetic disorder incompatible with life. The mother chose to carry her baby to term. A few weeks after losing Ginny, I heard that the other baby was born after an emergency delivery – perfectly healthy. No trace of the disorder. It was truly a miracle. He answered our prayers with “yes”. His will be done.