It’s with a heavy and broken heart that I write to say I miscarried our little one this past weekend.
We are grieving the baby that has left us with an empty belly and empty arms.
I am wishing that I could have had one more day, or week, or month to carry him or her. Each day was unspeakably precious and brought so much joy and anticipation.
It is a low time for us as we think of the little one that the Lord lent to us for what seems like much too short a time. I was 8 weeks along in the pregnancy.
The time with that little one was worth all the heartache that losing him or her now brings. The Lord has taken away. His name is still blessed.
He has not forgotten us. The Man of Sorrows remembers us in our affliction.
Remember my affliction and my wanderings,
the wormwood and the gall!
20 My soul continually remembers it
and is bowed down within me.
21 But this I call to mind,
and k therefore I have hope:
22 l The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases; 
his mercies never come to an end;
23 they are new every morning;
great is your faithfulness.
24 “The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.”
25 The Lord is good to those who wait for him,
to the soul who seeks him.
26 It is good that one should wait quietly
for the salvation of the Lord.
27 It is good for a man that he bear
the yoke in his youth.
28 Let him sit alone in silence
when it is laid on him;
29 let him put his mouth in the dust—
there may yet be hope;
30 let him give his cheek to the one who strikes,
and let him be filled with insults.