Tuesday, November 11, 2008


Hi friends. I'm sorry about my absence and my cryptic announcement that I would be gone for a while. Our computer generation has gifted us with the unique situation of having online friends... I may have never met most of you (and probably, sadly, never will), and yet I consider you friends and I appreciate the interaction we have in emails, comments, and sharing each other's lives through our blogs. All that said, thank you for your prayers and understanding. Thanks for waiting around while I pulled myself together.

I've never had to deal with such a tough situation while being involved in an online community, and so I'm not exactly sure how to handle this. Disclose everything? Nothing? What's too personal? And what's edifying for people who may find themselves or someone they love in a similar situation? I guess I've always been rather open, and I don't mind sharing what the last two weeks have held for me and my family.

Two weeks ago today I lost our fourth baby to a miscarriage. Ironically, I was one day shy of the all-important twelve week mark and was very excited to announce online that I was pregnant. Instead, I had a D&C. You'd think that since this is the fourth baby I've lost, I'd be used to it by now. Unfortunately that is the farthest thing from the truth. I have struggled more with this loss than any of the others and I'm not sure why... Maybe it's because I was closely monitored and saw the sweet babe via ultrasound three times (healthy and growing with a strong and steady heartbeat) before she died. Maybe it's because I believed that I had learned the lesson God intended for me through the loss of the first three. Or maybe I just let myself hope too hard that everything would be fine this time around. At any rate, I'm still healing.

It's a strange mix of emotions that this sort of loss leaves with you. I'm heartbroken (I was sure that this was my little girl), filled with remorse (did I do something to cause her to die?), ashamed (I'm broken, my body doesn't work the way it's supposed to), numb (is it really over?), jealous (of all my friends who are currently pregnant or who just had beautiful, healthy babies), and the list goes on and on. It's exhausting. But in the midst of it all, I can see light at the end. I know that Kahlil Gibran is right when he says: "The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain." Grief is exactly that: a deepening. I don't always like the process, but there is something rich and beautiful about living a life that is filled with all manner of things. My soul longs for the day when "all shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of all things shall be well."

In the meantime, life goes on. I have two handsome sons to fill my days, and, oh yeah, I write books, don't I? It's time to resurface. There's laundry to be folded, supper to be planned, and I'm halfway through a major chapter. I think I'll be gracious to the inhabitants of my fictitious Bridgewater this week...


  1. Oh, Nicole, what a loss. My heart breaks for you. I have never experienced the pain you are now, and while online-empathy seems a stretch, I want you to know I am praying for you and am trusting that God holds you and your four babies in His hand. I work in a crisis pregnancy center, and it is in times like these that my heart yearns to know why God gives children to women who just abort them, but for some who are desiring of a child aren't able to have one. But it is also in pain that I learn more of God's mercy, love, and infinite grace. I pray that the pain you are suffering now leads to depth in your relationship with God.

    Also, in any case, I am honored that (as part of your online readers community) you shared your heart with us.

  2. Hello Nicole--

    I have never met you, but I feel as if I know you, as your books and your blog speak to me more than any other author's works ever have. I relate to your fictional writing and personal accounts in a tremendous way. I also relate to your ambitions as a writer and I admire your poetic prose.

    I share all of that with you so that you may know what an impact the gifts God has give you have had on me. There is something very deep and rich about your soul, and I am thankful that God chose to use your life in such a beautiful way.

    I am so truly sorry to hear about the loss of your baby and the heartbreak it is causing you. May God hold you in His arms in every moment and show you the hope that can arise in the mire. Hold strong to your steadfast faith and know that many are praying for you.

    May God bless you and your sweet family!

  3. Nicole, This is a "sister" in Lyon County praying for you. I was so sorry to hear of your loss. We ask the Lord to grant you peace today -- and enough grace to get through each day. I so appreciate your vulnerability and your willingness to share this heartbreak with others who care. Blessings to you, dear one.

  4. I am overwhelmed by your understanding and support. Thank you so much for your prayers and encouragement.

    Blessings to you.

  5. Nicole, my heart and my prayers are for you. Thank you for entrusting your heart to us and sharing this info. At times like these faith is tested--I don't have any easy answers, but I share the human condition: choosing to believe in a loving God or not. I choose Him, He's NEVER let me down. I don't want to offer any platitudes or "off the cuff" remarks about why this happened. Why is a dangerous question unless it goes straight to the Father. I am mourning with you and rejoicing with you in your blessings. May this promise bring you comfort: They shall go forth in joy and be led forth in peace.

  6. I'm sorry to hear of your loss Nicole. I've never had a miscarriage but I did go through 12+ years of secondary infertility (after having one healthy son). We were also blessed by the miracle of adoption, 2 little girls from China who are now 3 and 5! Our son is 18. It's a crazy life. :-)

    I LOVE your books and have really been blessed by them. Thank you!