Aimee Jones Parenting After Loss

Parenting After Loss: 5 Years

Five years of parenting after loss, 2 rainbow babies, 3 states, 4 homes – we miss Ginny more than ever! We bring our love for her with us on every new adventure our family undertakes. Our love only grows. Our realization of the true gravity of the loss expands when we see Chet and Addie take on each new stage of childhood. We see what she’s missing, what they are missing, what we are missing from her not being here. She’s part of our family, so 5 years of parenting other children won’t make us forget. Five years of parenting other children won’t make us ok with death. 

For anyone who feels like they should be done grieving their miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss, please know that it is ok to never stop grieving your child. They should’ve been with you the rest of your life, but they are gone. That is worthy of your mourning, no matter how many years and how many other children you have. Just because you grieve doesn’t mean you don’t have hope. Just because you grieve doesn’t mean you aren’t healing. It is right to be brokenhearted over death – even if you know it is temporary. 

These years later, I will say the grief has changed. The pain isn’t as sharp. The sorrow is not all encompassing. I think of Ginny throughout the day with love, but her death does not consume the majority of my thoughts as it once did. The waves of grief come less often and less intense. Noticing that happening made me sad at first, but now I am ok with it. I realize it doesn’t make me love her any less. I’ve grown strong enough to bear the reality of her absence most of the time. 

Now that we are done having children, I feel like my grief has evolved even more. Anticipating and experiencing pregnancy after loss kept my heart in a state of vulnerability that I am now free from. I will admit, it feels good that that phase is complete. I still have fear of losing my kids or other loved ones. I have to fight intrusive thoughts daily, but it is not as severe as it was with a baby in my womb. 

I worry this distances me from the beloved baby loss community I’ve been a part of since Ginny died. Can I relate to women going through loss in a meaningful way? Are my memories too distant to be of any support or encouragement? Am I more likely to say something hurtful now that I’m not going through it alongside her? I pray that God can still use me through my loss. I want to follow His will for my life whether that be in the baby loss community or elsewhere. I do know that the lessons of my suffering and hope impacts literally everything I do. It has changed who I am so whatever I do, it will be because of Ginny and the work God did in me through her life and death. I do hope my life parenting two children after loss can give others’ hope for the future after their losses. 

Aimee Jones Milestones & Anniversaries

Remembering the Days Right Before

Ginny’s 6th birthday is in a couple days. I’m missing her so much. As all moms do around their kids’ birthdays, I’m thinking back to days leading up to her birth. Although, for me those memories feel tender. I’ve racked my brain over them again and again and again through the years looking for warning signs that should’ve alerted me of her upcoming death. But today I want to look back with the a new filter. I’m not going to focus on the “should’ves”; I’m going to try to remember the ways we were preparing for Ginny and loving each other. 

10 Days – Feb 16 – Ten days before Addie’s birth, we completed her veggie-garden-themed nursery. My mom visited and helped me put the finishing touches. Behind her white crib was a row of sunflowers and a birdhouse sign with her name. A mobile hung above the crib with spinning felted vegetables. Below the crib was a bright green rug that looked like grass. There was handmade veggie artwork and a carrot garland hanging on the wall. Above her yellow changing pad were three little hooks with the letters V, H, and J for Virginia Hope Jones. I hung little ornaments in the shapes of corn, lettuce, and carrots. Above her bookshelf was a sign that read “Good Things Grow Here”. Flowers, decorative gardening tools, “You Grow Girl” pots, and framed pictures of cousins were all around. Friends contributed sweet homemade art, quilts, and blankets. Her closet was fully stocked with the cutest baby girl clothes, organized by size. I couldn’t wait to bring her home to her room. 

9 Days – Feb 17 – The next day, Daniel and I grabbed a pillow and yoga mat and headed to our first childbirth class. We spent the whole day learning about pain management techniques and what to expect from the different phases of labor. 

8 Days – Feb 18 – We put together Ginny’s stroller. I got the carseat ready and practiced buckling it with a stuffed bunny. We just needed to install it in the car. 

7 Days – Feb 19 – I started packing my hospital bag. I made three lists: one for me, one for Daniel, and one for Ginny. 

6 Days – Feb 20 – I went to Buy Buy Baby by myself to look for a diaper bag. I didn’t find one I wanted, so I later ordered one online. It would arrive after Ginny’s death. I wrote about the saga to return it in the post From Ginny To Chet. Spoiler: The return was unsuccessful, and both Chet and Addie ended up using that diaper bag. Later that night Daniel and I assembled the gliding rocker that his parents bought for Addie’s nursery. 

5 Days – Feb 21 – I had my 34 week prenatal appointment. My belly was measuring small so the midwife wheeled in an in-office ultrasound machine. She could tell that Ginny was head down and there was plenty of fluid, but she scheduled an official growth scan for Monday, Feb 25 to get a closer look. That night we had our church small group over. We asked them to pray that Ginny would grow well and that we’d have peace waiting for the ultrasound appointment. Our sweet friends gave us baby gifts. One couple who recently had a baby generously gave us all the things they found most useful. Another couple gave us an adorable onesie that says “little sprout” with an illustration of a green little sprout coming up. They also gave us a beautiful handmade crocheted blanket in shades of green. Both the onesie and the blanket are in Ginny’s keepsake box. 

4 Days – Feb 22 – I ate a deliberately large breakfast in hopes it’ll somehow help Addie grow. I remember watching the movie Roman Holiday while counting and rolling all the change we had accumulated from the past few years. Daniel and I had plans to go on a “change date” like we used to in college when we didn’t have much money. 

3 Days – Feb 23 – Daniel and I went on our “change date”. We went to the bank to cash in the coins and then got lunch, went to the art museum, and had a nice dinner. I remember it was a rainy but really fun day together. 

2 Days – Feb 24 – We went to part 2 of the childbirth class. I remember there was a new instructor because the original one couldn’t be there for some reason. This new instructor introduced herself. She was a regular doula and also a bereavement doula for couples who lose their babies. I had never heard of anything like that before, and I remember thinking that was so sad. We learned a lot about induction and epidurals and things I would need to know sooner than expected. 

1 Day – Feb 25 – The growth ultrasound was scheduled for 1pm. I had nothing planned for the morning, so I slept in and got ready slowly. I remember straightening my hair which I rarely ever did. I remember the sweater I wore. I remember talking to my mom on the way to the hospital. I took a picture of where I parked in the parking garage so I wouldn’t forget. I met Daniel in the lobby. We waited in the waiting room, and then our lives changed forever. You can read about all what happened next in Our Story and Labor and Delivery Story. 

As you can see from how we spent those last days before Ginny’s birth, we were very busy preparing for her. I was doing all I could to make sure she had everything she needed once she arrived; meanwhile, I had no idea that she didn’t have everything she needed to get to that point. She died sometime between Feb 21 and Feb 25, but I’m pretty sure I felt her move the morning of Feb 25. I think we were just barely too late to save her. There are a million things we could’ve done differently on those days. But if the outcome was going to be the same, I’m glad we spent that time parenting her by preparing and spending sweet time together. 

Aimee Jones Faith-Based Encouragement, Parenting After Loss

“Will Jesus let me fall?”

Why is it always at the most random and unexpected times that 4 year olds ask profound questions? Out of the blue in a dramatic shift in conversation, Chet called out from his 5-point harness carseat, “Will Jesus let me fall?” In a split second, I had to fight back the urge to respond in the way that would provide the most immediate comfort. I wanted to say, “If you trust in Jesus, He will never let you fall! He loves you and will always protect you and keep you safe from harm.”  I refrained. Instead I quickly searched my brain through what I remembered of the half-read book about answering kids’ faith questions that was resting on my dresser. I remembered nothing… “Uh yes Jesus may let you fall, but He will be with you and will comfort you when you do.” I held my breath for what his reaction would be. He changed topics again, probably requesting to listen to “Truckaroo” from the Cars 3 soundtrack. I hope I navigated that ok. I always want to tell my kids the truth, and the truth is that when your legs and feet are growing at the rate Chet’s are, you will definitely fall. And when he does fall, I only want his knees to be scraped, not his faith in Jesus or trust in my words. 

It was 5 years earlier during the ultrasound when the doctor confirmed with the words, “I have to tell you the worst news” that I began to realized that Jesus would actually let me fall. I was free falling. I’m not sure the precise moment when I crashed to the ground, but I do know I felt like I was skidding against pavement for the long time. Ginny, my first and only child at that time, had died. And because I believed in a sovereign God who controls life and death, I knew He let her die. I knew He was letting me suffer. I cried out to God many, many times, and He met me in the darkness many, many times. At first it was in the form of His real and palpable presence. It brought peace in moments where there should have been none. Then He met me through the listening ears and sweet words of friends. Then He met me through His Word. 

Prior to Ginny’s death, I thought that if I had faith enough and prayed hard enough and trusted God enough, I wouldn’t have to face this kind of sorrow. I maybe wouldn’t have said it out loud, but in my heart I thought that because Jesus loved me He would give me a happy and comfortable life. It was wishful thinking disguised as faith. I read the Bible, but I read it blindly. I was blinded by assumptions engrained so deep I confused them for obvious fact. I looked but did not perceive and listened but did not understand (Mark 4:12). Everyone has biases when they read anything, including the Bible. Now that my eyes have been opened to the fact that faithful believers do experience suffering, I see it everywhere in the Bible. How could I have missed such an important part? 

Jesus is the center of it all, and He is known as the Man of Sorrows. Christ suffered through temptation, loss, betrayal, and death. Although Jesus suffered on our behalf, that doesn’t mean that we will not also suffer on this side of heaven. If He suffered, we as His followers will also suffer (John 15:20).  We are not immune to the hardships of a messed up world (2 Timothy 3:12). But when we suffer, we know we are not alone. Jesus is with us; He truly understands (Hebrews 4:14-16). We are given peace that transcends understanding (Philippians 4:7). Jesus even blessed those who go through life’s challenges in His most famous sermon (Matthew 5:3-10). Jesus did NOT say “Blessed are the faithful, for they will never mourn.” Instead Jesus did say, “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.” 

The entire Bible is full of stories of God followers who faced hardship and examples of what to do when we feel betrayed by God. We are invited to bring that betrayal, anger, questions, pain, disappointment to God. God doesn’t just tolerate our grievances; He encourages us to bring them to Him. At least 30% of the Psalms are songs of lament. Even from the cross Jesus cried, “My God, why have you forsaken me?!” God’s chosen nation of the Old Testament is named after “one who wrestles with God”. Faith does not mean denying any doubts or confusion; faith means not being afraid to face them with God. And God shows up! 

Just as we see throughout the Bible, when someone encounters suffering, they are not left unchanged. God uses our suffering to bring transformation in our hearts and lives. He reveals truths. He builds our character and hope. That’s exactly what happened and continues to happen to me in my grief. Patient and hopeful endurance is something that takes time and pain to develop, but it is vital for a Jesus follower and ultimately a gift from God. This suffering comes alongside abundant love, joy, and hope (as well as lots of protection, provisions, healing, blessings, favor). It is all part of the full life we are promised as Christians (John 10:10); we get it all. If Jesus does let you fall, remember this time of hardship is only temporary. We are also promised a future of eternal life with no mourning, crying, or pain (Revelation 21:3-4). 

“When I thought, ‘My foot slips,’ Your steadfast love, O Lord, helped me up.” Psalm 94:18

“Yet if any of you suffers as a Christian, do not consider it a disgrace, but glorify God because you bear this name.” 1 Peter 4:16 

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.” Matthew 5:3

“My brothers and sisters, whenever you face trials of any kind, consider it nothing but joy because you know that the testing of your faith produces endurance; and let endurance have its full effect, so that you may be mature and complete, lacking in nothing.” James 1:2

Aimee Jones Parenting After Loss

Parenting After Loss – Having a Girl

When I was pregnant with Ginny, I would imagine what it would be like to raise a little girl. I dreamed of the baby stages, toddlerhood, a little girl growing to a teenager, and even spending time with her as an adult. When Ginny died, my imagination didn’t stop, only now I was thinking of everything I would be missing. I have grieved and am still grieving the loss of every stage. When I walk past baby girl clothes sections, I grieve. When I see a mom and her daughter walking around the neighborhood, I grieve. When I see a mother-of-the-bride look with pride at her daughter, I grieve. I don’t just grieve my baby, I grieve a lifetime of moments together. 

Now that Addie is here, I get to actually experience raising a little girl. I get to experience all those stages I imagined – but with a different daughter. I get to experience everything I thought I never would – but not with Ginny. I’m thrilled and grateful to get this chance. And it has taken me 9 months to realize that I haven’t even thought about it. During Addie’s pregnancy and her first 9 months, I have not sat and dreamed of what it will be like to raise her. It’s just now occurring to me that I haven’t allowed myself to really imagine her growing up. I guess I was trying to protect myself. Just as she is reaching milestones does it start to sink in that we get to raise this beautiful, adorable, sweet girl and that she is truly here with us. I can hold her and see her and kiss her and make her smile. I keep underestimating how fun it is to dress her and watch her learn new things. In the best way, I feel surprised realizing she’s growing and developing. I shouldn’t be surprised. I knew what was coming. We’ve experienced these same stages with Chet. But somehow having a girl still hasn’t truly sunk in. The longer Addie is with us, the more my heart slowly believes that my dream of being a girl mom is actually currently coming true. I can let myself believe it. I do cherish it. I cherish Addie so much. 

As I process this reality, it becomes even more clear how one child cannot replace another. Even though I am experiencing with Addie what I fantasized about with Ginny, I still definitely grieve for her everyday. These moments aren’t fulfilling what was lost because what was lost was an entirely different person. I may not know what Ginny would’ve looked like, but I know what her presence felt like. Addie is just as loved, just as precious, and just as wanted as Ginny, but she is not Ginny. She is her own amazing person. I look forward to every moment with her, but I will still always miss and yearn for her older sister. Addie does complete our family, but she doesn’t fix what is broken in our hearts. I never have and never would expect that from her or Chet. Daniel and I love all our children with all our large, soft, broken open hearts.