Boxes, Snow, and "The Hole"

Monday, January 26, 2026- 3:42PM

It was snowing the day we tucked our daughter’s life away into a box. This box, so smooth and beautiful, with her name etched on the lid- one that we will pull out when we wish we could pick her up out of her crib and hold her in our arms, when we wanted to push her on her bike or give her a hug after school.

I turned to JB, too tired to cry, and noted with sorrow how tragic it was that her whole life fit in a slightly enlarged shoebox. His response was surprising, yet a comfort to me: “All of our lives fit in a box.”

What do we leave behind that truly matters?

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It was snowing the day we left the hospital without her as well, my body empty of the life that I was carrying two days before. I remember being struck by the snow then, too. Perhaps it’s because we have had an odd Alaskan winter without much of the beautiful, white powder, or maybe it was because what happened in that delivery room was so life-changing that it felt like many seasons had passed since we first walked inside of it. Either way, I noticed the snow.

Other things I notice today- the light in my children’s sweet eyes. The gentle warmth of my husband’s hug. The generosity of others. The coziness of a heated blanket gifted from a dear friend who has also known loss. The healing balm of reading God’s Word as I feel lost.

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JB and I have been watching tv shows after we put our precious kids to bed- a bit of an escape, and an easy, shared experience right now. It is crazy how many different things remind us of our loss, of what we have gone through. We have had to turn off several shows as we discover certain topics are too hard.
But one of the shows that has been an enjoyable tune-out time had a quote that resonated with us both. The idea was:

Grief is like a hole that you can’t fill, but over time it gets smaller. So eventually, you won’t fall in with each step.

Today, the hole felt a little smaller. Until the box.

And yet the snow falls.

A Week of Finding My Footing

Sunday, January 18, 2026- 9:16AM

One week ago, our lives changed. Those first moments of discovering our Maggie was gone are the hardest for me to remember. It’s not breaking the news to our other children, the delivery, or holding our sweet girl for the first and last time; it’s that moment when we crossed the threshold of knowledge that what we thought just mere hours before- a present rested in and a future envisioned- was no more.

The waves of grief have certainly hit as the shock has worn off. And yet, certain foundations remain- I have not questioned God’s goodness, or even His plan. And I have continued to feel nothing but His love and mercy to us in this time.

No one wants to go through suffering- we don’t tend to seek it out- and yet, the Bible is full of truths about it.

“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

“Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” -Romans 5:3-5

“Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all.” -Psalm 34:19

“I have said these things to you, that in me you may have peace. In the world you will have tribulation. But take heart; I have overcome the world.” -John 16:33

The truth is, as believers, we always have hope. And that gives suffering and loss a sweetness to it that anyone else would think is crazy.

But this time is sacred, and I know it. It is a time where everything else is stripped away- hopes, dreams, expectations, my physical abilities, my ability to rationalize or ignore the reality of being human…and this is a time He does not waste when I come to Him.

Pregnancy has been a time of testing and growth in my faith each time. There was something so frustrating about the constant reminder that I am not in control of the life growing inside of me. My pregnancy with Maggie had those moments as well, but we went into this pregnancy with a very different mindset than we did with our other two, and it changed my whole outlook during my time carrying her.

We had Emma and Ethan 19 months apart. And then we waited nearly 6 years to give this another go. We have desired to have another child for the past 3 years, and we waited for God’s timing; we felt God calling us to try now. And even after it all, I am so glad we listened. This is the first pregnancy where I wasn’t white-knuckled-grasping onto this dream. I came into it with open hands, knowing so many more women this time around who have experienced unexpected and unexplained loss. I knew this would be a leap of faith for our family in so many ways. But we felt God’s leading and prompting the whole way through.

I have a whole note on my phone of verses and truths He shared with us throughout our pregnancy with Maggie, and those verses are anchors as I look back and wonder why we put ourselves through this, or why God led us to take this leap of faith, only for this to happen.

It is such a beautiful reassurance to me that Maggie’s life was not and is not wasted. It is such a grounding knowledge that this was, in fact, part of God’s plan, and that He is still good and loves us.

“Commit to the Lord whatever you do, and He will establish your plans.” -Proverbs 16:3

“There’s a difference between planning and controlling. One invites God in…the other carries the weight alone. When we release the outcome to Him, we discover how capable He is of doing what we cannot. Commit it all to Him.” -Dr. Josh Axe (I do not agree with all aspects of his theology, but I liked this quote).

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I have seen God work through loss and grief. I first encountered that three years ago when my father-in-law unexpectedly passed away after beating cancer. And then when I faced my mom nearly dying before brain surgery a year later. I have worked through grief with my own chronic health condition this year that has led me to cling to Jesus and lean on Him every day for physical provision and wisdom over my “yeses” and my “nos”. And I have already seen Him working in our loss of Maggie.

A gift that has come through these past three years of growth for me is that I do not fear death, pain, or suffering. Of course, like any human, I don’t relish it and I often pray against it. I also have my moments of dreading it and hoping to avoid it. But I have seen God give and take away and have wrestled with my faith in that, coming out the other side with a complete, blessed assurance that no matter the outcome, He is still who He says He is. And I am not afraid when I know His love for me- love that sent Him to the cross- while also knowing that no matter what happens in this life, I will be with Him in Paradise forever.

“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the Lord. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” -Isaiah 55:8-9

“And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose.” -Romans 8:28

Blessed Assurance

Blessed assurance, Jesus is mine;
Oh, what a foretaste of glory divine!
Heir of salvation, purchase of God,
Born of His Spirit, washed in His blood.

This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.
This is my story, this is my song,
Praising my Savior all the day long.

Perfect submission, perfect delight,
Visions of rapture now burst on my sight;
Angels descending, bring from above
Echoes of mercy, whispers of love.

Perfect submission, all is at rest,
I in my Savior am happy and blest;
Watching and waiting, looking above,
Filled with His goodness, lost in His love.

Years ago, I faced the age-old question, “Why do these bad things happen?” and “Where is God in this?” and found Him in His Word and in prayer. And that is how I knew I was ready for this pregnancy and whatever was ahead for us- whether it would take more of a toll on my health (it actually ended up doing the opposite and was such a gift), it would be a difficult pregnancy or transition as a family, or whether it brought pain and grief and loss. I knew through it all, I could trust God and, ultimately, not fear what was ahead.

“Deep, contended joy comes from a place of complete security and confidence in God even in the midst of the trial.” -Chuck Swindoll

Elisabeth Elliott, one of my favorite reads and listens, shared a quote from Benjamin Franklin that I read just days after delivering Maggie:

“My life is but a weaving
Between my God and me.
I cannot choose the colors
He weaveth steadily.

Oft’ times He weaveth sorrow;
And I in foolish pride
Forget He sees the upper
And I the underside.

Not ‘til the loom is silent
And the shuttles cease to fly
Will God unroll the canvas
And reveal the reason why.

The dark threads are as needful
In the weaver’s skillful hand
As the threads of gold and silver
In the pattern He has planned.

He know, He loves, He cares;
Nothing this truth can dim.
He gives the very best to those
Who leave the choice to Him.”

My feelings, my faith, my reality can rest in knowing those are unchanging truths. What a sweet relief to know that no matter what wind and waves come, I can trust that He has me in His loving hands.

I fully believe that no matter what is stripped away, all I need is Him.

Facing some of my biggest fears and finding God ever closer in them has given me the taste of salvation and assurance so many long for and search desperately for, yet is available to all who believe in Him. I don’t fear death, not in the slightest. I pray for that peace and assurance for all who read this.

“I give Him my deaths and He gives me His life. My sorrows, He gives me joy. My losses, He gives me His gains. This is the great principle of the cross.” -Elisabeth Elliot

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JB and I started thinking and dreaming of Heaven so much after his dad died. It led us to read and research so much about it. It has allowed us to be more prepared for the quizzical questions from our kids. It has given us clearer images of what Heaven must be like for Mike, for Maggie, for other loved ones. It gives me such joy. I long to be there so much. My heart leaps when I think of an eternity with the Creator of love, of all good things. I can’t wait for the adventures, the laughter, the unending joy and beauty we will encounter together there. It makes me think of those verses…

“He has made everything appropriate in its time. He has also set eternity in their heart, without the possibility that mankind will find out the work which God has done from the beginning even to the end.” -Ecclesiates 3:11

“So we do not lose heart. Though our outer self is wasting away, our inner self is being renewed day by day. For this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison, as we look not to the things that are seen but to the things that are unseen. For the things that are seen are transient, but the things that are unseen are eternal.” -2 Corinthians 4:16-18

“But our citizenship is in Heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body to be like HIs glorious body, by the power that enables Him even to subject all things to Himself.” -Philippians 2:20-21

Charles Spurgeon once said:

“Christian, here is joy for thee; thou hast looked, and thou hast seen the Lamb. Through thy tears thine eyes have seen the Lamb of God taking away thy sins. Rejoice, then. In a little while, when thine eyes shall have been wiped from tears, thou wilt see the same Lamb exalted on his throne. It is the joy of thy heart to hold daily fellowship with Jesus; thou shalt have the same joy to a higher degree in heaven; thou shalt enjoy the constant vision of his presence; thou shalt dwell with him for ever. “I looked, and, lo, a Lamb!” Why, that Lamb is heaven itself; for as good Rutherford says, “Heaven and Christ are the same thing;” to be with Christ is to be in heaven, and to be in heaven is to be with Christ. That prisoner of the Lord very sweetly writes in one of his glowing letters-”O my Lord Jesus Christ, if I could be in heaven without thee, it would be a hell; and if I could be in hell, and have thee still, it would be a heaven to me, for thou art all the heaven I want.” It is true, is it not, Christian? Does not thy soul say so?”

My only desire is to be with Him.

While I wait to be in Heaven, I have a purpose here and now. And I also have so many blessings- like my husband and my kids- to enjoy. What a gift.

I keep marveling at how God gave us Jesus, and then He also gave us the Holy Spirit. As the psalmist says in 139, we cannot flee from His presence, even in the depths. It really struck me the other day as I looked out at our snowy backyard- when I commune with God, I am experiencing just a taste of what Maggie is experiencing right now.

How glorious.

“Faith is to believe what we do not see; the reward of this faith is to see what we believe.” -St. Augustine

“While other worldviews lead us to sit in the midst of life’s joys, foreseeing the coming sorrows, Christianity empowers its people to sit in the midst of the world’s sorrows, tasting the coming joy.” - Timothy Keller

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JB and I have been getting more sleep than I would expect right now. At times, we both admit to one another we feel numb as we go about our day. Yet it is in the quiet darkness of the early mornings and the late nights, we allow ourselves the necessary freedom to go to the depths. We grieve together.

JB put it well in one of those moments where I was staring up at our bedroom fan, contemplating how life goes on after this. He observed that we are experiencing a dual grief: the death of a child and her future in our earthly family, and also the loss of a dream.

So many dreams and memories we hoped to make with our little girl…

I continue to have moments throughout my days where a thought, either an encouraging epiphany or a difficult realization, flashes across my mind. I suppose that is the delicate dance of grief as the mind and soul work to untangle the horror of it all.

Akin to what JB shared with me the other night, it hit me today that we are experiencing the tragedy of a rewritten future.

I stare at the calendar with a sense of dread and loss right now. All these moments I had planned for- a gender reveal/announcement on Valentine’s Day, a baby shower, my due date, rocking a baby in the sunshine on our back deck this summer- are now laced with sorrow and incredible heaviness. This path that I had planned out in my mind seems to no longer exist. It vanished as quickly as my little baby bump did.

But then I remembered a text I received from a dear friend who lost a baby years ago. She put it so beautifully: Though the path leads to a different place than I expected, it is still going somewhere, and that path is still full of love.

I thought I knew which direction the path for Margaret, for our family, was going, but the path for our little ones are often ones we cannot comprehend.

Yet I can trust that Maggie’s path led her to a beautiful, perfect place.

_____________

We have had a few of those “well-meaning” strangers say things they shouldn’t, but the thoughtful, caring, tender comfort we have received from everyone else has far outweighed those moments. I need to remind myself of that every time another comment is added to the “Dumb Things to Say to Grieving Parents” List.

JB and I try to laugh our way through life, finding joy even in the pain. Even in these moments where so much emotional damage could be done, JB and I are able to laugh over those comments and bring them up to each other with silly voices when we need some comedic relief.

“Stay positive; you’ll get through this.”

“You have two at home; soak them up and be grateful for them.”

“You can always try again.”

I’ve known for years that people say the darndest things, but I try to not take it personally, for it reveals everything about them and nothing about us. And it’s often not meant to be hurtful, it’s just awkward and hard for people- especially those who have not encountered this depth of pain in their lives yet- to know what to say.

I know we all want to rationalize our humanity at times; try to make it an easier pill to swallow. I’ve even caught myself doing this to myself right now.

But it has hit me the past couple days that this loss is not something I can (or will) slap a bandaid on, find a silver lining for, or numb myself through. I can’t muster up enough “positivity” or determination, or sheer will to get through this.

Truth: I don’t need positivity right now.

Every time I look in the mirror, I am reminded of what I lost and what we went through. There is no avoiding it.

I hug my kids in their tears as they wrap their minds over what they lost when their sister died.

We all need to feel this, to face it, and to go to the Lord. He is the only healing balm to my soul, my only True Comfort. Any other words ring empty.

Other truth: We may have more kids, we may not. We may go through more tremendous loss and pain in our lives. We may have crushed dreams. We could get all we have ever hoped for. All of it is dust compared to knowing and experiencing Jesus. Health, wealth, happiness…it all comes up empty because Jesus is the only One who can fill the holes in our hearts.

That is what this time provides- a fresh clarity on what matters and on what is lasting. This world cannot ever provide the full satisfaction and hope that an eternity with Jesus will.

All that to say, there is still great pain and loss here. Just because our foundation is in Him doesn’t mean we don’t feel the agony of this. We hoped for and longed for another child, to grow our family. We watched our baby girl develop and grow inside of me. I felt her kicks and saw her pictures. This is a great loss for us. And while we have two precious kids in our home, that does not change that we have lost a member of our family.

The “at least you have other kids at home” has always been an interesting rationale. It suddenly turns family planning and structure into a game; it cheapens the life of our little Maggie.

You see, it reminds me of the board game of Life. My sisters and I loved playing that game growing up- I mostly did because I am terrible at strategy games…ask JB.
Our goal in the game was always to get married first and then cram as many pink and blue kids in our little plastic cars as we could. How many of us didn’t have that dream in real life, me included?

But what that well-meaning person doesn’t understand is that every life- whether just conceived seconds ago, or delivered and breathing- has eternal value and purpose. They are not just little trinkets you can replace.

When that child dies, there is a hole forever in that family, a loss felt by people and certainly by our Heavenly Father.

There is an empty place in my and JB’s heart that we created for Maggie to fill. We prayed for this child and pondered her for years and let that dream fill our hearts and minds. Even if we had more, or adopted a puppy on a “grief whim” (can that be a thing?), quit our jobs and traveled the world, or bought every single thing we ever wanted…nothing will change that loss. We have two daughters and a son, and it’s okay for strangers and loved ones alike to simply say, “I am so sorry” and leave it there.

I am so thankful for God’s reminders that He made us each uniquely, that He loves us and cares for us more than the birds of the air and the flowers of the field. I know He is smiling as He holds my dear Maggie’s hand, all the while crying as He holds me tight in His arms.

Thank You, Lord, that nothing is wasted.

The Second Wave

Friday, January 16, 2026- 6:40AM

My eyes are so dry. I didn’t know I could cry so much. My body is sore and weak from all it has gone through this week, and I welcome the physical reminder of the pain because it encourages me to slow down and take care of myself- even when I don’t want to.

The mindset of pregnancy is hard to shake. I am trying to remind myself I can eat the blue cheese now, the uncooked deli meat. It’s painful to take my prenatal, but I know the nutrients are good for my healing body.

I walk around my house, thinking of the joy I felt just a week ago, knowing Maggie was with me wherever I went. I would drive in the car with Emma and Ethan and think, “I have all three of my kids with me; what else could I need or want?”. 

The shock and whirlwind of what has happened in the past 5 days is wearing off, and grief lays on me so heavy at times I don’t know what to do with myself. But the tears flow and eventually dry up, leaving me feeling numb at times and a bit more at peace in others.

I am thankful for the waves that ebb and flow, giving me a reprieve before they crash to shore once more.

I am blown away by the comfort and power of God’s Word and of His people. Watching tv is a nice distraction; sleep is a wonderful respite until I wake up and remember all over again. Snacks and fuzzy blankets are a comfort. But the only time I feel deeply soothed, swept up in an emotion even stronger than grief, is when I read the scriptures and prayers loved ones have sent me. It is quite literally holding me up at times. I look around and see all that has changed. I feel lost at sea. And then I am able to look up and see Jesus’ face in the storm.  I am thankful.

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I wish my body already knew I lost my child. My milk coming in has been an incredibly painful reminder of what I have lost. I grieve it but also thank God I have been able to sustain the life of my other two children in the beautiful bond of nursing in the past. 

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It has started to sink in that we lost our second daughter. It is hitting me that we have three kids, yet one is in Heaven.

I didn’t realize how much room I had already made in my heart for Maggie. Aside from the logistical planning of car seats and nursery, I was ready for my lap to add another little one in it. I was prepared and excited for the chaos and sweetness, for the sacrifice and joys ahead.

Meeting her in that delivery room was so important; I feel like I got to know her better. Her big eyes looked like little moons when they were closed, just like her big sister’s. Her lips, full and so feminine. Her tiny fingers and toes so delicate and yet perfectly, beautifully formed. She fit in the palm of our hands.

Psalm 139: 13-14:
“For You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; Your works are wonderful, I know that full well.”

My Dream

Wednesday, January 14, 2026- 11:06PM

She was running in a field, her sandy blonde hair dancing behind her. It was like I was following her through the golden-colored flowers and green stems to a new place she was so excited to see. 

I had this dream just a few days into pregnancy, and that’s how I knew I was having a girl. I didn’t fully trust it, but I see now that God told me. 

All along, I thought it was a vision of a soon-to-be future- me with my little girl, enjoying the beauty of this world. 

She was running in a field, but it wasn’t to me. Her back was to me the whole time because her eyes were set on Jesus. She ran straight into His arms.

The First Wave

Wednesday, January 14, 2026- 4:34AM

2-4AM is when I miss Maggie the most. All my defenses are down. I wake up and forget for a moment what we have lost- that she isn’t kicking and moving inside of me anymore.

This is the first morning I haven’t woken up wailing. This morning, just for this time, I feel a welcomed gratitude and even a little joy. I welcome these emotions and ask them to stay for a while.

I feel gratitude that I got to grow life inside of me again. That I got to feel her kicks and see her perfect little form in pictures. I feel grateful for her life and how it changed mine.

Bracing for impact for another wave of another emotion to come, but for now I rest here.

I have spent so much time thinking about grief, loss, and Heaven these past few years through other family losses, and I am grateful for what I know now because I do not think I would have had the strength of faith to endure this in Jesus’ arms like I do now. It is all by His grace.

I don’t question His goodness. I am not angry with God. I am sitting in this cocoon of a hospital room, reflecting on the first cries of a newborn baby JB and I heard next door yesterday, thinking of the immediate worship of God and the marveling of His giving of life and the miracle of birth that burst out of me in that moment. I felt joy for that mother and her family, while also experiencing deep grief that led me and my husband to hold one another in aching tears.

It is all Him. It is life as a believer- to be able to hold joy and pain in the same heart, in the same moment.

I could not get through this without knowing our dear Maggie is in Heaven. As my brain and body process this trauma- this unexpected, unusual loss- that is what I cling to so deeply. The first thing she saw was the glory and beauty of a place where there is no more pain. JB and I envision her in her grandpa’s arms, his shining blue eyes sparkling with his big, full-of-life laugh lighting up his form as he plays with her and cuddles her. She is with Jesus; there is truly no better place to be.

I want to be selfish, though. I want her to be here with us. I want to watch her grow inside of me, to keep all those appointments on my calendar, to celebrate those milestones. To set up the nursery. To not cancel the registry. To show Emma and Ethan the wonder of feeling a baby kick in Mommy’s tummy. To get the carseat ready and anticipate the joyous occasion of siblings meeting for the first time.

I have not brought myself to think very much yet of all the moments lost. I know that is what people say about the unique nature of miscarriage and infant loss- you grieve what could have been more than anything. You grieve the memories that were never made. I have such a creative imagination and have had Maggie there in my arms on our back deck this summer, nursing in the sun as her siblings play with their Daddy on the trampoline. She has said her first word, spit up everywhere, learned to crawl, and giggled with her older siblings so many times in my mind.

I hurt for our kids. I hurt that at ages 5 and 7, they have experienced more loss and grief than I did until I was 29. I also see their strength of faith. 

There are those pinnacle moments held in our minds- and one of those for me is the moment we had to shatter our kids’ reality. It happened on our couch, with knit blankets and held hands, shaking, tear-filled voices. One moment they are eating pizza and applesauce, and the next they are learning that they were going to have a sister but that she has died.

Their questions and statements were profound. To see our sweet, emotionally in-tune daughter ask such deep questions was beautiful. To hear our son’s logical, intelligent mind work through this was a wonder. When I told the kids they could say goodbye to Maggie, as she was still in my tummy until tomorrow, they just looked at me with confusion and said, “But Mommy, she is already in Heaven. It is just her body in your tummy.”

They know and they understand. These bodies are just temporary. Her body isn’t needed anymore; Maggie is very much alive.

____________

I am listening to the clock ticking in this cocoon of a room where nothing has to change or be expected of me yet. This room has been filled with tears. It has had some laughs. It has had so many hugs and held hands. It has brought me stale bread and yummy snacks. I have stared at the beautiful bouquet of flowers and portrait of Jesus holding the little children countless times. It will be a core memory with this room.

In this room, I labored. In this room, I met my daughter. I have held Maggie, kissed her goodbye, and held my husband. In this room, I have felt the physical reminders of labor and loss every day. This room has allowed me to face the entrance to the path of grief with a rawness and gentleness I praise God for so much. In the trauma and pain, I have not once felt belittled or misunderstood. I have only felt compassion, kindness, and overflowing love through each person and experience here. I am so grateful for this room- one that acquainted me with death and life in a whole new way.

I hold the treasures of the messages, the prayers, and the Scriptures that have been poured out onto me and JB. My mind cannot process all the words, all the Truths, but my heart feels it. In this time of what feels like impossible mental gymnastics, I feel grounded because of my faith. And I feel held by God because of everyone around me.

What has caused just as many tears as the grief and mourning is the overwhelming gratitude for the love and generosity of so many around us. God has shown up through His people, and every meal, donation, kind word, or gift has turned my tears into a fountain overflowing. I am blown away, experiencing the wonder of living in the reality of God’s design for His people- to come together in harmony to hold one another up in good times and hard times. To be His hands and feet. I feel His love so deeply through everyone.

I also feel the answered prayers with my delivery experience. God answered all of them. I am blown away.

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It is still too hard to face, though. The “why.” Not the Big Why…the practical, human “why.” What changed where we saw our baby girl healthy and moving, heart beating on a Thursday evening, and by Saturday, she was gone? Our doctor is just as confused as we are. 16 weeks along with no indication of what happened. If I didn’t know with my whole being that God is the Author of our days and has them all written in His book, I would lose myself in this confusion, circling down a drain of madness, guilt, and anger. But He knew the plans He had for her, and He is good. Two simple but profound truths that change everything.

God promises suffering for all of us while we are in this world. He also promises His presence. I came into this pregnancy with eyes wide open to this, knowing that loss happens to so many parents. I saw God transform my fears to peace, my waiting to patience. These are not things I could have mustered up from within myself; I am an anxious pregnant mom- the lack of control over any part of it has always been staggering.

These moments of deep peace and trust were gracious gifts from Him as I spent time in His Word and in His presence. He and I will have to wrestle through this together for months and years to come, but I don’t fear that or even begrudge it. I know He welcomes my questions and hurts. I know He is well acquainted with our sorrows; He gave His life to redeem them. To redeem me and set me right.

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I know people sometimes say they don’t want time to pass because it feels like the canyon between their loved one who is gone and today’s present reality grows more vast every day, taking with it the memories and moments that they do not want forgotten. And while I do not want to forget any of the special moments- finding out we were pregnant, sharing the news with our kids and loved ones, picking out nursery themes and watching my belly start to grow- I also want more distance between this week and the rest of my life.

It hurts to know that 6 days ago, I saw Margaret alive and well on a screen. I felt her move. And if my weary brain while in its processing gets a bit stuck, I can tell myself that if I just stay closer to that last time I saw her and felt her alive, then maybe it did not happen. Maybe these twinges I feel even now as my body adjusts to its new state of being are actually her kicks. And while it would be nice to live in that dream state, it is too painful to then come out of. 

I have spent time agonizing over wondering when the moment was when we lost her. Was it when I was playing the recorder for my little students? Was it while I was sleeping? At my daughter’s basketball practice? Was that why I felt so off last weekend and so very tired? So many questions.

Where was I when it happened? I don’t know. But I know where she was the moment it happened- from my comforting womb of love to an eternity of joy, light, and the care of the One who created her and loves her more than I can even imagine.

____________

There are moments where grief hits you unexpectedly. I don’t really see the need to wear makeup for quite a while because I know this. But we are still in the pocket of everything being painful. Today, we will pick out an urn for our daughter. Today, we need to call our insurance benefits to try to get our hospital stay covered and to try to get some time off from work partially paid for so this is not as catastrophic financially. Today, I will weep in front of strangers and make decisions I never thought I would and do not feel prepared for. And that is okay.

Today, we come home to our house without our baby in a car seat. With tears and a flat stomach. But we also get to hug our kids and come together as a family to heal.

Today will be a hard day, as each day has been since Sunday.

Every “today” will be hard for a while, and I know that is okay. 

Psalm 23

Wednesday, January 14, 2026

Our daughter, Margaret Elisabeth Schwartz was delivered on the evening of Monday, January 12th, but she woke up in Heaven in the days leading up to when we held her for the first and last time. 

I am so thankful we have a confident hope in Jesus, because without that we don’t know where we would be right now.

The grief and confusion of losing our baby girl at 16 weeks after a healthy appointment just a few days prior weighs on us heavily, yet we place our trust in God in our search for answers, knowing we may never find out “why.”

We know our Maggie is in Heaven and is held in the arms of Jesus and her grandpa. 

We have felt the love of God through the words of encouragement and the prayers of His people, but the tangible love we have felt through the acts of service and generosity of so many people has been what has brought us to tears. 

The care and compassion of the hospital staff throughout our whole experience and stay was a gift from God. We felt Him near through every hug, hand-hold, and shared tear with the staff there. They were excellent. 

Thank you from the bottom of our hearts to those who have brought meals, care packages, blessed us financially, and prayed for us. We have felt nothing but support and understanding, and it changes the whole grieving process to feel the powerful love of our community holding us up when we can’t hold ourselves up. 

The intense grief of loss, the swelling of emotion holding our baby girl in our hands, crying out to God and singing to her, telling her how much we love her, along with the moments of beauty and love and the support of our community has been overwhelming.

We know grief is an unending journey. We are riding the waves, holding one another and our two other precious kids.

For Emma and Ethan to know and fully trust the hope of Heaven and to see their love of Jesus be so strongly rooted is one of our greatest joys as parents. 

We read Psalm 23 as a family on the day little Maggie most likely passed away, and we have felt these truths in our souls these past few days: 

“The Lord is my shepherd; I have what I need. ” -‭‭Psalms‬ ‭23‬:‭1‬ 

We will see little Margaret again someday. Any peace I feel amidst the tears is knowing this is her reality this very moment:

“Only goodness and faithful love will pursue me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord as long as I live.” -Psalms‬ ‭23‬:‭6‬

With Me in the Valley

I understand why they say that you shouldn’t make a big life decision soon after a tragedy occurs. I see a lot of wisdom in that. You’re not thinking clearly; it’s hard to think rationally and realistically without emotions clouding our minds. But sometimes, tragedy becomes a catalyst for changes that needed to happen. Sometimes it can become a wakeup call- in a jolting-awake kind of way. That is what I have experienced, now six months after losing my father-in-law; there is no way for me to see life differently and go back to what was. 

I think about this a lot these days- You can’t trade time. You can’t get it back or change what was. All we get on this earth are moments together that become memories. God gives us the time He has allotted for our lives, and it truly is a gift.

We lost Mike at the end of March. It was a shocking, unexpected loss that brought the tidal waves of grief heavily. He had battled throat cancer the last year of his life and came out of it cancer-free after enduring torturous radiation in his throat. He was a month out from recovering from a major neck and spine surgery that was improving his quality of life so much. He went to sleep talking about how excited he was to get out hunting and enjoying being outside again, and then he woke up in Heaven. 

We as a family faced many times in the last year of Mike’s life where we wondered if we might lose him. Radiation and illness and nerve pain and everything else wore his body down, and it was so heartbreaking to watch. Those memories and scary moments are still haunting. But when he came out the other side of a major surgery so smoothly, we didn’t fear we would lose him.

I’m thankful for that last month with him- that his pain wasn’t as intolerable as it had been, and that we got to make more special memories. But I wish we had had more time. 

It’s an interesting conflict of emotions as a believer. I know Mike is with Jesus right now. No pain, no suffering. I hope he’s fishing and laughing his big laugh, singing hymns and dancing. But we’re all so broken down here, missing him so much as we approach his 70th birthday this week. 

Praise Lord Jesus for arresting death, for giving me the hope that this isn’t our final home- that death for a believer in Him means eternal life in His presence, but it hurts.

Grief can feel like such an unkind, unwanted creature, but it is also a necessary friend. When it first came to our family, I was a week away from major performances at school starting- the end of the year craziness. I had to be up on a stage, being evaluated while leading my students through the nerves of a festival performances just days after his death. JB was a week into soccer season, where he pours so much of his time and focus into shaping the character and technique of his players. 

The last place I wanted to be was on the highway every day, commuting far from my hurting family. The last place I wanted to be was on a stage, leading multiple concerts and trying to put on a brave face when our entire world was just turned upside down. I knew I needed to work, as we were struggling to make ends meet. But it didn’t feel sustainable. 

I didn’t know what needed to change or if anything could, but I felt turmoil in my soul. 

One month ago, JB and I put our house on the market, and I quit my job. I didn’t see that coming!

I have been staring down my life recently and realizing how tiring it was- how often I was completely depleted. But I was also so thrilled to have the job I did. I had what I felt was my dream job. I was teaching orchestra at a middle school that fed into my high school, getting to start students from the beginning and seeing them through to the end of their high school years. 

I had amazing principals who were extremely supportive of my programs, kind coworkers who worked hard for their students, wonderful families to partner with, and great classrooms. It was such a blessing. 

But the drive was affecting my body. The early hours and draining days were taking a toll. I constantly felt like I was running on empty, but I thought that was just normal, having two toddlers and teaching.

In addition to the stress of my job, our finances weighed heavily on us. JB and I made a beautiful home together- one we were so thankful for and proud of. JB and I started our lives there and brought our two babies home there. We put a lot of time and money into fixing up our place and making it welcoming and “us”. But we also came together every month, struggling through the weight of debt and a tanking economy. 

I turned to JB one night with a crazy idea that became a reality- what if we sold our house, paid off our debt, and moved in with his mom while we saved up? 

We prayed and prayed about it. We wrestled with finding other solutions to disrupt what we wanted to change. We sought counsel from friends and financial advisors. But when JB’s mom said she had been wondering the same thing for us, we felt like God had been preparing all of us for this change for a while. 

JB and I moved into Jan’s house in three days. Much like our story of knowing we were meant to spend our lives together, we acted swiftly once the decision was made. 

I woke up on my 30th birthday in a different home, still processing the decision we had made only a week before and knowing in my heart it was what was best. 

And although my footing has felt uneasy with all this change, I know Who my foundation is. 

Our old house is closing in a few weeks, and I am a day away from welcoming students into my classroom at a new job. 

So, back to my job…

I have come to realize that a dream job for me isn’t one where I teach exactly what I want all day. It’s not one with prestige or a lot of potential for fame. It’s not one that makes full use of my experiences and skills every single day or moment. I now feel that it is one that gives me time- time to take care of myself, time with family. I long for balance and the ability to tend to the things and people that matter most to me. 

So how did I get here?! A few days after we moved out of our house, I started my seventh year of teaching with Anchorage School District. My two classrooms were set up, my repertoire was chosen, lesson plans for the first week written, and I was ready to stare down the beast of spinning all the plates again. And then, an opportunity came my way. 

I heard from a friend that the music teacher at a program close to my house just suddenly retired. I pondered it for several hours and thought to myself, “No way am I considering this. No way would I leave what I love, especially now that the school year has started. No WAY am I moving and getting a new job- all within the span of a couple weeks!”

But God had other plans. 

Every door seemed to open. The interview, the interactions. Being released from my contract with the old school district. Getting hired with a new school district.

And all of a sudden, I had three hours to clean out my classrooms I had spent four years in and a short time to hug a few people goodbye. 

God made a way, and now I am teaching music at a homeschooling program that serves about 12% of our school district’s students. A job that is closer to home, slower-paced, and lends to a well-rounded life. Not to mention, it is four minutes down the road from our kids’ daycare. After being nearly 40 minutes away from them every day for five years, my heart is so full. 

My life has been turned upside down, and you know what? It has been a huge blessing. I get to take my kids to school every day and soak in that time together. I have friends who I have known for years as coworkers. I am serving the kids in my own community, bringing more orchestra classes to my area. And I come home with so much more energy to get outside with my family or spend quality time with them. 

What a gift!

When talking with my close friends and loved ones about all this crazy change, I have laughed when I think of how “Ruth and JB-esque” this all feels. As I mentioned earlier, we decided to get married quickly. When JB and I know something is right or best, we pause to pray together and then we act diligently.

I’m still adjusting to these life changes- waking up in a different home all of a sudden, living with more family members, going to a different job. I had spent the last six years of marriage and last five of parenthood in the same job and the same place, and I assumed that’s where I would always be. 

But just like my move to Alaska that also started with a “I would NEVER do that” thought, God has led me to a new stage in this adventure with Him- this time with my loving husband and flexible, resilient kids by my side. 

I have never felt closer to JB than I do now. We have walked through the Valley together, holding each other, cherishing each other. Serving one another when the grief and responsibilities of life feel overwhelming. And now we have taken this huge leap of leaving the comfort of our home and our barely-scraping-by American dream for one that we believe is better. 

I have no one else to trust in but Jesus and my husband. We are taking this leap of faith to start fresh with our finances and also to spend time with family, helping where we can. We are taking this leap of me starting a new kind of job, teaching different musical content than I have before and having less on my shoulders. 

Through all of this, I have found more and more areas in my faith that need Jesus’ loving touch. I long to find all sense of security and peace in Jesus- not in my identity as a musician or teacher, or in where or how I live; not in my circumstances in the good or hard times. I want to go where He leads me, looking to Him as we journey on. 

This past year has taught me so much. I have never cried so much or thought about Heaven so much. The kinds of conversations I have with my kids now are so rich and hard and beautiful. The limits I have for taking on tasks are lower. Yet my desire to love and serve those around me is overflowing.

It’s a lot of growing and learning, but I’m never alone or out of His hands. 

I am thankful for a God who has been with me as I wrestle and I doubt and hurt. I am thankful for the gifts of love and relationship He has given me. I am grateful for the hope and promise of eternity with Him! And in the meantime, I’m praising God for these life changes that have given me more time and freedom and stretching than I could have imagined.