My husband and I compromised that we would wait a year after our wedding before we started “not-not trying” to have a child. A month after our anniversary I found out I was pregnant! We had our 8 wk ultrasound and began sharing with family and close friends. We took “photos” with these people that were actually videos and told them we were expecting to capture those beautiful moments of sharing our first child with them. Everything was going great. I had an appointment near early 11 wks. Once we hit 13 wks we announced to the world the day after my birthday that we were expecting!  At 14 wks we did a little photo shoot in the backyard. Finally, at this point in the pregnancy I was getting excited. I thought it would take longer to get pregnant. I wasn’t ready. But finally, I had gotten on board. I even designed our baby shower invites!

Two days before we were 16 wks we had another appointment. There was no heartbeat. Our doctor walked us into an ultrasound room. The sonographer just immediately blurted out “Oh this is all wrong. Look at all of this blood in here. I didn’t cry. I focused on the payment plan of all things. That was our first appointment on the pregnancy plan thing and what would that mean now?? Silly thing to worry about right then. My mom was at our house within an hour of being home. We had our close friends come the following evening—they thought we were going to tell them we were having twins. I called a few of my closest friends to tell them. These women were invited on my grief journey; I opened the door to them by reaching out. I expected them to check in and felt safe to share my feelings. I texted most-semi close people that we miscarried and that I didn’t want to talk. As soon as I came to terms with the reality and spoke to everyone we felt should know, my body responded as well and that weekend, the days were fine and the evenings were filled with contractions all night and passing an incredible amount. My husband sat on the floor of the bathroom by me in silence. There was nothing to say. Later there were things to say, like how every time I used that restroom, I relived those evenings. Those things eventually had to be said for the sake of a husband that didn’t fully understand all of thing things I carried with me while I was no longer carrying our child. But I am grateful that he was there, and willing to listen and understand my grief that was in some ways so different than his.

I make videos. Our announcements are videos. Since we had just posted our announcement video 2 wks before we found out about the miscarriage, we made a video explaining where we were and posted that four days after we found out. We weren’t trying to rush, but we are both on staff at our church in a small town we were both born and raised—we just wanted people to know and not have to retell our loss over and over again. It was nice for us to each express where we were with the loss, our hope in Jesus, our boundaries for that time in our life and specific things people could do that would be meaningful for us, like send us cards. We barely had anything physical to commemorate that child and I desperately wanted things to hold that reminded us of the truth that we had a child, it was a part of the world, and people knew it.

Six days after learning about the miscarriage, we had a D & C. Honestly, going into the maternity ward could have been one of the worst things but it was so healing for us. The staff treated us like parents, they were so sympathetic that we lost our first child, and treated us with such dignity and care, it really helped us to feel validated to grieve like parents that lost their child.

Another huge moment for me was when talking to my sister-in-law that lived across the country and to hear her heartbroken and grieving for the child she wouldn’t meet and realizing that I wasn’t the only one that got to love our baby, and that I wouldn’t be the only one carrying on its memory. I think all any mom wants is for their child to experience an incredible love in this life and no pain of this world and that’s what our child had. 

Thankfully the God who created me, knows me. He knows I want to do things on my own. I wouldn’t have wanted to tell anyone of our loss. But I needed our community. And we had an incredible community that never let me miss that God was providing for us every step of the way. He literally carried us for months by His local body and other mother’s that were courageous enough to share about their own stories. As much as I hate how stupid I feel for not knowing I had miscarried. This story wouldn’t be our story. I would not be a woman others feel like they can share with when they don’t tell anyone else. I wouldn’t be the encouragement others found when they needed to express their loss. God has opened so many doors that had I not announced our pregnancy I would never have walked through. I didn’t get to carry our child for long, but now I have the privilege of carrying the memory of so many precious little ones with their mommas.

It was over a year later, on a quiet winter afternoon that I was doing the dishes and thinking of our sweet little one that I finally heard the whisper in my heart that we should name the baby Hope. Up until then—we never knew if it was a boy or a girl and I had always just called it baby Hickum and that was fine for me. And I just say that because it was so long after! But we’re still on the journey. Trying not to rush the process. Trying to be obedient and trusting and patient. And to continue to have hope. And every time we think of that babe we can’t not be thinking of hope! We’re going to meet someday! Super excited for that. And super excited to raise children to know about this child, and about God’s plan and powerful love  in hopes that when they experience loss or know someone that does—that they are a strong, gracious, patient and encouraging friend during that time. That’s Hope’s legacy.

The Hickinbotham Family with their little rainbow baby Zara; Hope’s little sister.