Learning to Trust Jesus With This Fragile Hope I Carry
Pregnancy after losing a baby is one of the hardest things I’ve ever walked through. People say a rainbow comes after the storm, but honestly, most days I still feel like I’m standing in the storm, waiting to see if the clouds will part.
Every ache, every strange feeling, every bit of discomfort sends my mind spiraling: Is this it? Is something wrong? Am I about to lose this baby too? I wish I could say I live in constant peace, but the truth is, I wrestle with fear almost daily. There are moments when I find myself holding my breath, afraid to hope too much, because I know what it feels like for hope to be shattered. Then the next day, I am researching breast pump, and changing my diet to be more healthy. In tthe quiet moments of naptime, I even attempt to make a baby registry with the sublte fear I may never get to use it. Then my mind wanders to the unopened boxes of nursery items and tiny baby clothes never used after losing Lainey.
But in those dark moments, I keep coming back to Jesus. He hasn’t left me once—not in the heartbreak of loss, not in the nights I cried myself to sleep, not now as I carry this little life inside me. Sometimes all I can pray is, “Lord, please. Just hold this baby when I feel like I can’t.” And I believe He is.
This rainbow baby doesn’t erase the pain of the child I lost. That grief is still part of me. But this baby is a reminder that God is still writing my story, even in the chapters I never wanted. I don’t know how this will all unfold, but I do know He’s asking me to trust Him—again and again, one day at a time.
If you’re reading this and you’ve lost a baby, and now you’re carrying another, I want you to know: you’re not crazy for feeling terrified and hopeful at the same time. You’re not alone in the way your heart flips between joy and grief. It’s okay to cry, it’s okay to worry, and it’s okay to hand all of it over to Jesus, even if you have to do it a hundred times a day.
This road is messy, but I believe He’s in it with us. And even if my voice shakes, I’ll keep thanking Him for the gift of this little life growing inside of me. So tonight my prayer is simple:
Jesus, You know my heart. You know the fear that rises with every twinge and every ache. You know the baby I’ve lost and the tears I still cry for them. And You know this little one I’m carrying now. I give You my anxiety, even when I have to hand it over again and again. Hold this baby when I feel like I can’t. Hold me when I’m afraid. Remind me that You are good, even when life feels so uncertain. Thank You for this gift of life inside me. Help me trust You with every breath, every heartbeat, every tomorrow. Amen.
