When I was 20 weeks pregnant with Eliza and found out that she was a girl, we felt strongly about the name Eliza Rose but also had the name Micah on the table. Micah had originally been our boy name through two pregnancies, but we also loved the name for a girl. That same night, I had a dream that we had three girls: Lydia, Eliza, and our littlest, Micah.
I woke up that next morning and felt so strongly: The Lord is saying don’t be afraid to have three girls, and you’re supposed to have one more: Micah.
Micah is Hebrew for the phrase “who is like God?” We also loved the name because it comes from the same root word as Michael (Kevin’s middle name) and Michelle (Kevin’s mother’s name.) Open handed but confident, from that moment I had held onto a vision of our family. Months after Eliza was born, Kevin and I couldn’t wait to be pregnant again and have our Micah—boy or girl—and complete our family.
LIFE BEFORE MICAH
Leading up to December, we had entered a dark season for reasons that I will keep confidential on this platform. I was exhausted from nights without sleep and I felt scared and anxious leading up to the days of my missed period. On our first pregnancy test we saw the smallest, faintest line. I’ll never forget that night when around 9pm, Kevin left for the store to get more pregnancy tests. The next one showed an even fainter line—but the line was still there. After processing it all, we decided to tell no one but planned to take another test a few days later to confirm.
On the morning of December 7, I took another pregnancy test and left it in the bathroom. Kevin and I swooped up our two daughters to bring them back to see the results and celebrate the news: a solid line! “There’s a baby in mommy’s belly!!!” The four of us cheered, danced, and celebrated! Over the next several weeks and through the holidays we shared our news with friends and family. My baby bump showed quickly. I had all the symptoms. Our family felt complete.
Immediately we started calling the baby Micah.
LIFE WITH MICAH
Despite it being a challenging season, there were also sweet moments that Micah experienced with us. Micah helped me turn 30 years old and celebrate entering a new decade! Micah gave us hope for the year 2021 after a really difficult 2020. One part of this last month that I never want to forget was the first time Lydia, at 2 ½ years old, ever asked to pray before a meal or before bedtime started the week before our miscarriage. She insisted on praying and would pray: Dear Lord, please help the baby in Mommy’s belly, thank you for Baby Micah, I pray she grows and is born. Amen. Hallelujah! (Lydia Evelyn, I will never forget your first genuine prayer. I am so sorry that God didn’t answer it the way we wanted.)
The week leading up to our miscarriage was one of the most emotionally exhausting weeks of my life. But Micah was with me for every single heartbeat. For every sleepless night. For every helpless prayer. Micah brought me comfort and gave me hope. After a week of traumatic and hurtful events that I will not record, on Wednesday, January 6, a sweet friend took my kids for a few hours and sent me off to have time with Jesus. I wrote these words:
In 2020 I am leaving behind regret. I am leaving behind what could have been, the grief of loss that surrounded me from every side.
In 2021, I will be marked by freedom. I will be marked by embracing my humanness. By embracing my limitations and my capacity. By wholly accepting the gospel as I am – not for what I can achieve. May my weaknesses be Your Glory.
THE DAY WE LOST MICAH
Lydia woke us up at 6am on Thursday, January 7, just like she had most mornings the past month. Yet instead of having Kevin go tell her to say in her room one more hour, I had this sudden urge to be with her. I said out loud: “I want to hold my baby.” I asked Kevin if he would bring her back to bed with us. In a very rare moment for my never-stop-moving toddler, she climbed in bed with me and just hugged me and told me she loved me. We didn’t stop holding each other and telling the other I love you for about 15 minutes. That was a gift. I got my usual morning cuddles in with Eliza and started getting ready for my morning doctor’s appointment. This appointment was supposed to be the point of relief after a really emotionally exhausting week.
And for about 5 seconds, I had that relief. Kevin, Lydia and Eliza were on FaceTime as the sonogram tech started the sonogram. Immediately, we saw Micah.
“Look Lydia and Eliza!” I said out loud over the phone. “There’s baby Micah!”
There are really no words to describe what happened next. To experience the joy of seeing your baby on the screen and sharing that joy with your other children – to the shock and confusion of hearing a sonogram tech say the words: “I’m so sorry, there’s no heartbeat.”
I was stunned to silence. The only words I could mutter were: “Are you sure?”
As Kevin’s hands went to his eyes hiding tears, I saw Lydia’s face in the corner. I heard her sweet voice ask, “What happened to baby Micah?”
I took a deep breath. To help my oldest daughter understand, I had to speak into existence the truth that still hadn’t hit me. “Baby Micah died.”
I collected my sonogram picture of baby Micah and was ushered into another room. Kevin and I stayed on the phone and cried together until my mom came to pick up the girls from our house, and Kevin stayed on the phone through all the next steps. We decided to choose the pill option with the hopes of inducing miscarriage and avoiding surgery if possible. We asked all the questions we could think of during the appointment, including, “Is there anything we could have done to prevent or cause this?” and “Is there any chance our baby’s heart will start beating again?”
As soon as I arrived at home Kevin and I just held each other and cried. After a few calls and texts, we agreed that we wanted to go pick up our girls, clear out our work schedules, and take the medicine later that day.
I was almost 10 weeks on a third pregnancy and had passed the point of hiding my bump. The hardest part was that Lydia could see the baby in my belly. We had to explain to her that baby Micah wouldn’t be in my belly anymore but instead would be in heaven with Jesus. Having to remind her of this constantly for the first two days became one of the hardest parts. (But her accepting and telling me she now longer sees a baby in my belly was just as hard.)
After putting the girls down for their afternoon naps, Kevin and I sat in the quiet of our living room. We processed all of our emotions and as much grief as we could verbalize. When it became time to take the medicine, I broke down. There was something about the actual act of vaginally inserting pills that made it feel so final. Not to mention I was really scared for what was to come. We decided in that moment to just stop and pray. We wept together and cried out to God, but in our prayers, we just couldn’t stop thanking God for Micah and for the time that we did have with this baby, for the season that we did carry this child in. This little life was beyond a gift to us for nearly 10 weeks. This little life changed us.
We lamented what could have been and quickly our prayers turned into talking directly to Micah.
Micah, we love you… we were so excited when we found out about you… thank you for comforting us and bringing us joy in one of the darkest seasons of our life… we wish we could have met you, held you, heard your first cry, seen your first smile, seen you take your first steps, and raised you. We promise you, Micah, we will never forget you. We will never forget the time you were with us. You will always be a part of our family and always in our hearts. We can’t wait to meet you and hold you in heaven. We rejoice that the first time you opened your eyes, you saw Jesus. But Micah, we miss you…
When we said everything that we could think to say and everything we could think to pray, we took our first step forward. With Kevin at my side in the bathroom around 4pm on one of the longest days of our lives, we inserted the medicine. Eliza woke up a few minutes later and that evening playing with our children provided the most beautiful distraction.
A few friends dropped off meals, some essentials, and some surprises that comforted us in the moment. Tears and numbness rotated in waves. Nausea set in quickly and I couldn’t eat much but a green smoothie sustained me. Around the girls’ bedtime at 8pm, the cramping began. Fortunately, it wasn’t until after they went to sleep that I saw my first drop of bright red blood.
We set up a heating pad near the living room couch, got some blankets, lit a candle, and turned on The Voice season finale. And for the next few hours, that’s where we remained. My husband held me and every 15-30 minutes we paused the show, went to the bathroom, and Kevin held my hand through it all. While we were never able to see at the time, in hindsight, we are both pretty sure of the moment when the clotting blood passing was the worst. I wept on the toilet and cried out each of the three times when the passing was at its climax.
We weren’t sure how long the night would last, but thankfully cramping ceased around 11pm and the night ended with me falling asleep on Kevin exhausted on the couch.
LIFE WITHOUT MICAH
I woke up the next morning around 6am, surprised I was able to sleep that long. As soon as I stood up, I was shocked. My stomach had already shrunk. My morning sickness felt different. I felt postpartum. I felt very similar to the day after I gave birth to Lydia and Eliza, except that today I woke up without Micah.
And I felt the weight in my heart. I felt the loss. Like someone was missing. Grief overtook me, but as the day went on, so did the healing, both physically and emotionally. I cried a lot. My mom dropped off soup and helped with my kids while my sister, who works in health care, also came over. I drilled her on any possible medical and genetic question I could have surrounding pregnancy and miscarriage, which helped to make logical sense of our loss. Later, one of my best friends from high school who had also been through a miscarriage came over. We cried over our angel babies and the empty feeling of our arms, we processed similar fears, temporarily carrying the weight of the loss being our faults and the helplessness we felt in the darkest moments. Then later that night, I hopped on Zoom with three of my best friends who know me better than I know myself to have a beer and cheers to baby Micah’s sweet life, even amid the loss. I knew I was ready for my first beer when it didn’t feel like an escape, but instead, an outward symbol of acceptance.
Over the weekend we continued to take space to just be together as a family. Mostly, when my kids were awake, I could hold it together. But when they were asleep, Kevin and I just fell apart. We’ve had to process and grieve the loss in so many more ways than I would have imagined. At the same breath, we have been completely in awe of the community that has come around us. From meals to coffee to flowers to texts and phone calls and prayers. The love we’ve experienced from our community during this season has changed us forever.
Lydia and Eliza’s sweet presence has been healing and comforting. I am so sad and miss carrying Micah and miss the life we could have had with him or her, but I am also overwhelmed with gratitude that I carried this baby during a really dark and challenging 10 weeks for unrelated personal reasons. Every day of Micah’s life served extraordinary purpose for me.
We’re not angry at God, we feel comforted by His love and grace.
We don’t feel alone, in fact our community has surrounded us.
But we just feel really sad. We miss Micah.
In the almost 12 years I’ve known Kevin, I had never seen him like that. I had never seen him weep uncontrollably like he did. His emotion was what first brought the emotion out of me. We have grieved similar in some ways, and different in others, but the level of heartbreak we have both experienced has been the same. Despite a really hard week and a continued grief journey, we feel God with us, we see His blessings. We were gifted with space to be together. As the weekend came to an end, we grieved that as well because it felt like the time we got to “be” with and bond with Micah. Moving on to our busy lives felt like we were losing even more of what we will never get back. But we knew we needed to move forward. To push past the triggers and the ways we wanted to run away. But we found comfort that we will hold Micah in our hearts for the rest of our time on earth until we hold him or her in heaven.
ETERNITY WITH MICAH
Speaking of heaven, Kevin and I had always joked that he wanted a gender “surprise.” Meaning, during one of our pregnancies he wanted to be surprised by the gender when we met the baby after delivery. But knowing me, I am one of those people that needs to and loves finding out the gender at our 20-week ultrasound. We don’t know if Micah was a boy or a girl, but now we’ve joked that Kevin will finally get his surprise when we meet Micah in heaven! I can just imagine being there when Kevin arrives, or Kevin being there when I arrive, and shouting out, “Micah is a girl!” or “Micah is a boy!” What a sweet moment that will be!
Micah means “who is like God?” We have found that phrase to be true in this season. God alone restores our joy in the midst of our sorrow. Our hope and trust in Him allows sadness and peace to coexist. We have seen that there is no community like the community of God, coming around someone as they suffer and value the human life we carried, no matter how brief. The meaning of Micah’s name reminds us to look up to God in the midst of our doubts and remember that His ways are higher, His plans are greater. He is worthy of our love, our trust, our all. There is no one like our God.
Kevin and I feel blessed beyond measure that we get to raise our two beautiful daughters in this lifetime, and now we can’t wait to meet our angel baby in the next. It’s been waves of really hard and sad, and waves of peace and comfort, but overall, we are doing well. Thanks to those who have entered the journey with us.
We love you, baby Micah.