I imagine every parent has felt the anxiety of losing a child in a crowd, at a store, at the park, or elsewhere. I have had a few memories of such stressful moments.

Have you ever been so frustrated and mad with God, that praying seems impossible?

Like many of us, something I've struggled with for as long as I can remember is anxiety. Deep rooted anxiety that can sometimes cause physical symptoms of nausea, hot and cold sweating, dizziness and the feeling like I could pass out. As I got older, that anxiety manifested into feelings of self doubt, self worth, becoming very self conscious and that I was never good enough. I would struggle trying to figure out what to wear on a daily basis, what people would think of me and had problems making decisions for myself. Don’t misunderstand me- these are things I still struggle with, but have learned to identify what is happening now.

Rituals allow us to enter safely into grief because they have a beginning, middle, and end. They invite us to enter the tender places of our broken heart while encouraging us to focus on the present moment with the confidence that there is a way out.

There is so much we want to say to you -- so much we want you to know. But everything will fall short because if you are reading this then you are grieving your child and for that, we are so sorry.

My calling is now to bear witness to God’s plan for your life in surrender and obedience and ask the Holy Spirit to help guide me as I mourn, with open hands and a broken, faithful heart.

I’ve always enjoyed loving people. Meeting people, strangers becoming fast friends, getting to know people, loving them and their families was always something I felt I was really good at. It came effortlessly to me. 

My doctor watched me closely during my first trimester since I had had 3 previous miscarriages. During that trimester, I was afraid of my almost weekly visits. Afraid of what they might find. No heartbeat? Bad bloodwork? At week 12, my mind was eased. Everything looked fantastic.

Growing up Catholic in South Louisiana, I never really entered into Good Friday and the venerating (kissing) of the Cross. Yes I went to each Mass, but did I actually realize what I was doing? Even in my young adulthood, I can say I had absolutely no clue. I simply went through the motions.

The day after my birthday, I decided to go through Coen’s chifforobe. Since he is six years old now, it was time to give him some independence. While going through it, I came across the folder we received from the hospital when he was born. I read over the paperwork, and it brought tears to my eyes. My only child here on earth is no longer a baby. After looking at all the information in the folder, I closed it and saw another Lafayette General folder underneath.

If you've ever experienced depression, you know how hard it can be to get out of bed in the morning. It can be even harder to go on with your life during a period of loss or mourning—but you must. You're stronger than you think! I know this because I've been there myself and lived to tell the tale.

What if I was experiencing a new kind of prayer? Prayer that transcended anxious rosary beads and desperate pleas? My prayer was surrender. Be still. Close my eyes. Open my heart. Lift my face. And let him love me. Let him love her. Let him enfold us in love. My breath was my prayer.