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Our Story of Hope – Miller Family (Sadie)

We were The Miller, Party of 5, family for a glorious two and a half years after a tragic accident took the life of our daughter, Sadie. On June 26, 2017, Sadie went Home to be with our Lord. We are still a family of 5, but our earthly family has changed to 4.

Three months prior to Sadie’s Heaven Day, Trent was named Athletic Coordinator/Head Football Coach for Spring High School. We were on cloud nine, and we were living our dream out! To us, God was so good and gave us all the blessings (and more) that we could ever dream of. Then the accident happened, and we had a choice to make.

Our video tells the story of what happened, but more important, it tells of the HOPE that we have in Jesus. We still struggle at times and our earthly hearts are still broken, but what promises He gives us that all of our sadness and heartache will be gone when we are reunited and we get to see her and love on her once again. That is what I keep my hope in. There’s no way we could do this without Him.

This video has been healing to Trent and me for many reasons. People have commented on our strength, but we know that strength is from God alone. We couldn’t do this without Him and the peace and comfort He provides each of us daily.

The Miller’s Story from WoodsEdge on Vimeo.

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Our Story of Hope- Adkins Twins (Sydney Kate & Rylan)

For 1,126 days we desperately prayed for the Lord to bless us with a baby. We tried countless fertility medications, treatments, and procedures, 3 failed IUIs and 1 round of IVF. Praise the Lord, IVF worked the first round and we were blessed to be pregnant with not one, but two precious miracles. We were so excited when we found out we were having a boy, Rylan Kyle, and a girl, Sydney Kate. I had textbook IVF where everything went perfectly and the pregnancy, for the first 20 weeks, was amazing with only a few very minor bumps in the road. At 20 weeks and 3 days, my water broke very unexpectedly for Baby A (Rylan) and our lives were turned upside down. We were so unsure what our journey was going to look like from that point forward, but we knew no matter what, we were going to give the glory to God.

We decided from the beginning of our fertility journey that we were going to be transparent through the process and open up about our struggles in hopes that it would bring awareness to an often secretive and taboo topic. We also wanted to bring hope to those going through similar trials and assure them that they were not alone. We shared videos of my husband, Garrett, giving me injections, and kept everyone updated throughout the entire process. Shortly after we found out that IVF worked, we announced we were pregnant. We did not want to wait the typical 12 weeks due to being so open throughout the process.  When my water broke, we decided to continue the transparency and update people often about the #JourneyToAdkinsBabies because this was a part of our story and we could use all the prayers we could get.

Unfortunately, at 23 weeks and 2 days, on December 28, 2017, my contractions were not able to be stopped despite every attempt possible, and my doctor told us I would for sure deliver Rylan but he was hoping he could hold off on delivering Sydney Kate until a later date. When they came in to give me the epidural, I began to have to push and it was too late to receive the medication. I was terrified. Terrified because it was way too early and I knew at 23 weeks they had just barely crossed the threshold to “viability” and the chances of survival were still slim, and terrified because I was not mentally ready to deliver. As silly as it sounds, I had not read all the books yet, taken the birthing classes, or developed my birth plan. It was not time for any of those things, and yet here I was being rushed into the operating room to deliver. It only took two pushes and my sweet baby boy came into the world. They held him up for us to see his beautiful face. He was so extremely tiny but so extremely perfect. When they checked Sydney Kate’s position, she had flipped due to having extra room after I delivered Rylan and was coming out feet first so I had to be put to sleep for an emergency c section. When I came to after being put to sleep, I immediately began asking about my babies. How were they? Were they stable? How much did they weigh? When could I see them? The moment I saw my babies for the first time was the greatest moment of my entire life. They were so tiny and had so many things attached to them, but so completely perfect. Rylan weighed 1 pound 8 ounces and Sydney Kate weighed 1 pound and 4 ounces.  Even though they were born so early, they had everything they needed. Beautiful long eyelashes, full lips and tiny fingernails. Our major concern was lung development for both babies but especially Rylan, since he had not had amniotic fluid for 3 weeks. We were so hopeful that the Lord would hear our desperate prayers and the prayers of all those around us and heal our babies. But we knew that no matter what the circumstances were or the outcome, He was still good. And we would continue to give Him all the glory and praise.

Unfortunately, Rylan’s lungs were not developed enough and he went to be with Jesus 7 hours after delivery. The NICU was so amazing and allowed us to hold our baby so our family could pray over him and love on him while he transitioned from this world into the arms of Jesus. During that time that we held our perfect baby boy, time stood still. Nothing else in the world mattered except for loving on our baby boy and holding onto hope that our baby girl would be okay.

Rylan

Sydney Kate fought so very hard for 5 days but her little body was tired and on January 2, 2018, she joined her brother in heaven. Again, we held our baby girl and prayed over her and loved on her while she transitioned from this world into the arms of Jesus. And again, time stood still. But we chose to still believe that He was still good. I remained in a fog for the next few days, running on very limited sleep and lots of love and prayers from those around us. My friends and family remained strong while I felt that I couldn’t.

Sydney Kate

I continued to share our journey online and to give the glory to God for our precious miracles and the brief but powerful time we shared with them. I shared my broken heart but left out the messy. If you are a grieving mama, then you know exactly what I am talking about. The not so pleasant thoughts, the anger and bitterness, crying so hard that you get physically sick and cannot breathe. When reality set in, the devil tried to interfere and I felt like I was in a horrible nightmare. How on earth was I going to function when I had to give both my babies back that were so longed for? How was I going to go home to an empty house with a nursery that was ready for two healthy babies? And how was the world continuing for everyone else while ours had completely stopped? The constant reminder of pain my body was in from delivering both ways for babies I didn’t get to keep, milk that kept flowing for babies I did not have to feed, and a nursery awaiting babies that would never come home, almost became too much. I felt broken. Physically and emotionally, I was more broken than I had ever been or even imagined possible. But thank God that is not how my story ends.

I awoke figuratively and literally the day before the funeral with such a sense of peace. I had dreamed the night before that the last voices our babies heard were ours praying over them, and the first face they saw was our Lord and Savior. At 23 weeks, our babies eyes were still fused shut and would not open for a little while, and I believe the Lord was sending me a message of peace through my sleep. I needed that message so desperately. To have peace to cling to and then it began to awake me to realize that I had so very much to be thankful for. Many mamas do not have the luxury to hold their babies at all, to see who they looked like, to kiss them, or to etch their every detail into their memory. While I was only able to love on my babies very briefly, I find such comfort in knowing that they knew our touch, our scent, our voices, but the first face the saw, was the face of Jesus. And their first steps are on streets of gold. And they will be there waiting on us when we are called Home.

In a few days it will be two months since I delivered the most beautiful and perfect babies and experienced a love that is completely indescribable. While the pain we experienced having to bury both of our babies was the worst thing we have ever had to face, I know that this was of no surprise to the Lord. And He did not forsake us. In fact, I believe He was there alongside us, weeping with us. During the past two months I have been on maternity leave and had a lot of time to heal physically and emotionally. While I experienced the darkest moments of my life after I lost both of our twins, the Lord did not leave me there. He was able to handle my outbursts of anger and despair and love me through it. And help me to see that they served their purpose and helped touch thousands of lives throughout our #JourneyToAdkinsBabies on social media.

Throughout every emotion I have faced since our loss, I have always clung to hope. Hope that the Lord would heal our broken hearts, hope that we would see Rylan and Sydney Kate again, hope to feel joy again, and hope that we would eventually be blessed with earthly babies in His timing. During this time, I have grown so much closer to the Lord. I have clung to scriptures and dug in the Word more than I have before. I listen to Christian music constantly to fill my extra moments with songs of praise. I have grown closer to my husband in ways I never thought possible. I have read inspirational books written by grieving mamas. I have reached out to other grieving mamas because unfortunately, they completely understand and can offer insight as to how to navigate these unfamiliar waters. I have started counseling where my therapist encourages “leaning into the pain” which I find to be very helpful. I have entered their nursery and have began writing their story as a way of healing for me and also to help preserve every detail of their beautiful lives. Taking it day by day and feeling a little bit stronger each day. Without faith, hope and love, I don’t know where I would be. I have needed all three of those things desperately to get through each day. And I know that those three things have helped bring so much healing to my mama heart and will continue to do so each and everyday.We will forever be grateful for the time we had with him, even though selfishly a lifetime on earth would still not have been enough. But eternity with them praising our Lord and Savior is more than enough. And until then, we will continue to praise the Lord.

Because even through it all, He is still good.

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Our Story of Hope- Rollins Family (Zoe)

’It’s the baby, she’s not breathing!’ The babysitter cried into the phone. 

‘Call 911! My husband is nearby I’ll call him, he’ll be there soon!’ I quickly replied. 

That was the extent of my conversation with our sweet babysitter. My heart sank and began pounding. I ran out of my office at school and called my husband as I ran down the hall. “You have to get to the babysitter’s, Zoe’s not breathing, 911′s on their way. Hurry!” 

I ran into the Upper School office and told the secretary that Zoe wasn’t breathing and I needed her to drive me; I knew I couldn’t drive. I texted one of our small groups to pray as soon as I got into the car; one sweet friend texted back ‘Jesus breathe into Zoe.’ I clung to that as I began praying aloud, “Jesus breathe into her, Jesus breathe into her.” I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t cry, I could barely breathe. I continued praying, and pointed directions to our secretary as she drove me. 

Traffic seemed worse than usual for that time of day. I just wanted to hold my baby girl. I scanned the roadway looking for the flashing lights of an ambulance. Nothing. I strained my ears to listen for a siren. Silence. I finally got up enough courage to text Jeff again, I asked him if I should go to the babysitters house or to the hospital. My heart raced as I feared the reply. ‘Here.’ he responded. 

As we grew closer, my prayers got louder, I didn’t know what else to do. A part of me couldn’t get there fast enough, but another part of me didn’t want to arrive; I didn’t know what I was going to find. I peered down the street as we turned onto the road where the babysitters house was, just a few streets away from our home. I saw an ambulance, I saw cars, I saw people standing outside, I saw Jeff in the driveway. 

I ran up and hugged Jeff, he held me. ‘She’s gone.’ he whispered. 

‘No! Tell them to help her, tell them to go help her!’ I cried. He held me tighter. 

I knew there was nothing we could do, we were helpless. We were powerless. Night had enclosed around us on the beautiful afternoon of May 7th.

I remember looking across the street at the line of people gathering and watching the scene. Several specific faces are cemented in my mind. They were watching… they were watching to see if the God we professed was big enough to get us through this. They were watching to see if we ran to or ran from our faith in Jesus in a moment like this. It was in that moment Jeff and I made one of the most important decisions we would ever make- to run TO God and let Him carry us through this nightmare.

After talking with the emergency personnel and reassuring the babysitter that it was not her fault, that we still trusted her, and we were so sorry that she had to experience this, we went home. The house seemed empty, yet there were reminders of Zoe everywhere- bottles drying on the drying rack, her swing in the living room, burp rags on the edge on the couch; everything was waiting for her to come home with us. Our two older boys were at Jeff’s parents house just around the corner. His mom had picked them up before I arrived at the babysitters house, and they still weren’t quite sure what had happened during their nap time. We sat with two of our pastors and asked for advice on what and how we should tell them; we knew they were going to be heartbroken. They reassured us that there weren’t words for something like this, but that God would give us the words to say. Finally, we called Jeff’s parents and nervously waited for our boys to come home. 

“I want to play with Zoe!” were Jayden’s first words as he walked through the door; his words pierced our hearts. We sat them down with us on the couch and slowly explained to them that she wasn’t coming home. Jesus had taken her up to be with him in Heaven during her nap today; her room was ready and her ‘special job’ that God had for her life here was finished (or in many ways just beginning). All we could do was cry together.

The next day, was filled with hard things- waking up to realize her cries would no longer wake us up, continuing to pump milk (as I had still been nursing), going into Zoe’s room for the first time, looking at the pictures of Zoe that I had taken of her just hours before she passed away, the list could go on and on. However, as I made the choice to walk into the pain, each time, I was able to come out stronger and healthier than before.

Typically, we try to avoid pain, it’s natural. Perhaps that is why most people say the first stage of grief is denial. We don’t want to feel pain because it’s unpleasant and miserable at times. I didn’t want to feel the pain of losing Zoe, none of us did. I had such a hard time as family and friends wanted to ‘help us’ by putting her things away, I kept thinking someone would bring her home to us and she would need all those things again. This was just a nightmare. We had to move forward with our new reality, that we would now carry the pain of loss with us the rest of our lives. We couldn’t avoid it, instead we had to walk into the pain.

Pain is an indicator. It communicates to us that something is wrong. This is true of both emotional pain and physical pain. It is a message that causes us to react. When we touch a hot stove and feel the pain our first reaction is to jerk away. Emotional pain has the same effect on us, however we must to respond differently to this type of pain; we must sometimes keep our hand ‘on the burner’ and allow ourselves to experience the emotional pain in order to become healthier. 

Rather than backing away from the emotional pain that we were feeling as a result of Zoe’s loss, we needed to process it and move forward with it as a new reality in our lives. We had to choose to walk into the pain because in doing so we could walk through the pain and continue living our lives. We had to reject the guilt of moving on and accept the truth, that she was EVEN happier in her new home, and in the arms of the Father who gave her to us in the first place. She was in the best place she could be!

“I need to shower, shave, and get dressed.” Jeff shared with me that next morning. “I’m afraid what will happen if I don’t.” It was his way of saying that we can’t allow ourselves to get stuck. Just as I used to teach my students as a swim instructor, when you go under the water, the best thing to do is push off the bottom. We were at the bottom. We could either sit there and ‘die’ ourselves, or we could push off the bottom and trust that God would take us back up, for our sake, and for the sake of our grieving boys. 

It was evident, that as we walked forward into the pain, we knew that we weren’t walking alone. We knew we were being carried forward each day by someone who had walked through this pain before. He knew well the pain of losing a child. Without Him to walk with us into the pain and even carry us some days, we would never have been able to walk through the pain. 

Today walking into the pain looks different than it did last year, or the year before; grief doesn’t go away, but it does change. The burden gets lighter and the Lord continues to bring Joy into your life that balances out the pain. Honestly, we don’t want the pain to go away. The pain reminds us of the deep, deep love we have for our precious Zoe.

One of the many things that I have learned through loosing Zoe, is that true hope is so much stronger than even our worst circumstances. As a mom, one of the biggest fears I had was losing one of my children. I now live that reality, but I live it with hope. I am able to live with hope, because I know I will see and hold my precious girl again in heaven one day. Because of this hope, I have been able to commit to walking into the pain but then existing on the other side healthier than before.

I will walk into the pain, and I will walk THROUGH the pain, but I will not live in the pain. 

Someone once told us that losing a child was a terrible gift. At the time, that was a difficult statement to understand and even harder to accept. It was just terrible. However, as God has brought other grieving families into our lives, there has been a connection with them that is indescribable. We have come to realize that that deep connection is our terrible gift.

God has used Zoe’s loss in our lives as a way to allow us to walk with others through the pain of losing their children. It is a journey that begins with death, but can bring hope and healing amidst the loss.

In July of 2017, we welcomed a new precious little girl into our family; Nora Jane Rollins. Her name means God’s Gift of Light; and she is every bit of that for our family. 

Jeff & Mackenzie’s Story created by WoodsEdge Community Church was created while they were serving as missionaries in Ecuador from 2014-2017.