A Day of Remembrance

Last night I got an email from Kristen Hawkins, President of Students for Life (not a personal email, I’m not that special) saying that the annual Students for Life Conference would be cancelled this weekend due to weather. While I live nowhere near DC and had no intention of attending, this saddened me. My whole life I had been pro-life, but it was also never something I seriously considered. It just made sense. Don’t kill babies.

My senior year of college, though, I had the privilege to attend the March for Life along with the conference. Sitting in that auditorium with hundreds (thousands?) of students and listening to those incredible speakers: my heart was changed. The whole experience was so profound for me – I left on a retreat-like high. And while my life is quite different now than it was five years ago (ugh – five years?!) – I don’t get into abortion debates with the everyday acquaintance – I’m still changed by that event. Which is why I am so upset with this DC weather for thwarting it this year!

It is a tragedy that so many in our country are either passionately pro-choice/abortion, or (maybe worse?) just lukewarm to the topic. Even with most of the medical community now acknowledging that life does, in fact, begin at conception, the issue is still not resolved. Far from it. While there have been strides in the pro-life movement (I think you’d be surprised to learn that the pendulum is actually swinging in this direction these days, despite the loud efforts of opposing parties), there is still so much to be done.

What is one way we can support this cause? The cause of life. Maybe you’re attending the March in DC (or a local one in your city), maybe you have a conversation with someone who isn’t exactly convinced, or maybe you offer up fasting & prayer.  Whatever it is – kudos to you.

My favorite sign from the March for Life 2011.

 

Giovanna Raphael

I’ve been a bit MIA on this blog for a while, but Kevin keeps telling me to get back into it. I’ve wanted to write, but I wasn’t sure about what to write! I debated whether or not to share what follows, but in the end, I don’t want to hide it – I want to acknowledge it.

This summer has been full. Yes, we’ve been out of the house more and taking weekend/day trips (and I want to write about all of it!), but it goes much further than that. Something big happened, and then something big happened again. And it’s lead to many life decisions, one of which is that Kevin and I will be moving to Duluth, Minnesota in the beginning of September. There will be much more on all of this later, for sure! But right now, I just want to acknowledge the gift (and loss of that gift) that has changed my life, Kevin’s life, and our marriage.

On May 26, 2015, I woke up and decided to take a pregnancy test. This wasn’t exactly anything new as this was my routine for eight months. Eight months of radical dietary changes, Napro doctor support, and lots of prayer. Eight months of people saying, “you’re so young, you have lots of time,” or “just stop thinking about it and it’ll happen” (not very helpful…but that wasn’t everyone!). Eight months of excitement, anticipation, and disappointment. Eight months of intense grace and growth in my relationship with God. Eight months of deepening my love for my incredible husband. I could talk so much more about those eight months, but the point of all this is what came next.

Anyway, woke up, took a pregnancy test, and was SHOCKED…[complete silence]…SHOCKED to see the second bright line. I went back to bed and sat on a sleeping Kevin and whispered “I’m pregnant.” You can imagine his surprise and sort of questioning tone when he said “what?” All that we’d been praying for had happened (the cycle after our pilgrimage to St. Anne’s as well!).

I won’t go into the details right now, but while we were able to experience excitement in the beginning, there were a lot of concerning things that soon arose. The next several weeks were unfortunately filled with much anxiety. There were rays of hope that came, but then even worse symptoms that took their place. Around 4am on July 2, 2015, I woke up and immediately knew what was about to happen. I woke Kevin up and he just laid with me for a while as I experienced the all-too-familiar excruciating pains that would normally signal my period.

A couple hours later, at 9 1/2 weeks, I delivered (would that be the correct term?) our first child. I don’t want to be too gruesome, but to all those pro-choicers out there who would deny the fact that I had been carrying a living human, this was most definitely a child that I held in my hand.

We named our child Giovanna Raphael: “gift of God who heals.” This name had been on our hearts for a few weeks at that point, and it seemed quite God-given. We had already planned a trip back home to PA that weekend, so we took our child with us to be buried. A couple of our best friends, Josh & Ashlie, joined us that weekend with their little baby, John Paul. They were present when we buried Giovanna in our backyard. We wrapped her in the lace from my wedding dress. It was a painful, but beautiful experience. We prayed this lovely prayer from Sister Angelica, and we cried unashamedly at the loss of this precious life.

There is so much I still have to process from all of this. While I know I’m a mother, I don’t exactly feel like one. It’s been less than three weeks since I miscarried, but at moments, it almost feels as if I was never pregnant to begin with. Then there are the times when I just can’t help but cry over what is no longer growing inside of me.

At this point, that’s all I have to share about that. If anyone’s experienced infertility or miscarriage – be assured of my prayers.