You may have just stumbled across my blog, have been a lifelong friend, or are somewhere in between. Regardless of how you got here, I'm honored that you are here.
My name is Kristin and I enjoy sharing my heart and my reflections on grief here, at Sunlight in December. I make my home in Southern California with my husband and son, where I work with our church and enjoy spending time with my family, running, connecting with friends over coffee, writing, speaking, and eating meals on the patio.
My faith in Jesus is the most important part of my life, but is a part of me that has been rocked to the core and has sustained me through some serious storms.
My husband and I struggled with unexplained infertility for several years. After years of prayer and pleading, we were thrilled to find out that we were pregnant with our son, Ethan. At our 20-week anatomy scan, we learned that Ethan had a serious heart defect and was missing a piece of his brain. Our church family surrounded us and prayed so much for Ethan. Soon, word traveled and people all around the country were praying for a miracle. God answered our prayer in a way that I never expected or asked for.
Ethan was born on August 16, 2015 and spent 93 minutes in our arms, before taking his last breath and going to be with Jesus. I’ve never felt so heartbroken or betrayed as I did when we lost Ethan. I began to wrestle with my faith, with prayer, with everything I thought I knew. At first, my prayers honestly sounded like, “What do you think you’re doing?” (Sometimes with a few expletives tossed in). Over time, I began to see the goodness of God in the midst of unexplained tragedy. I began to see how He was using Ethan’s life to make an impact in the world just as I had asked from the very beginning, and how He had always been faithful to us even when my heart was hurting.
In the coming years, we went on to lose four more babies through miscarriage, including a set of identical twins. During this time, I was diagnosed with with PCOS and developed IC (incompetent cervix).
We have a greater Hope, but the pain over all we have lost still comes in waves. I think that is a natural part of living in a broken world with broken people. There is a beautiful combination of sorrow and joy, and the sorrow will remain until we reach Heaven. There is room for joy, but there is also room for grief.
In April 2018, after 10-weeks of hospital bed rest, my husband and I miraculously welcomed our living son into the world. Our little boy is an incredible gift we were never promised, and we are so incredible grateful to God for this immensely precious gift.
This is me. A wife, a mother, a believer, a friend. A 30-something mama to 5 in heaven and 1 in my arms, who is clinging to hope and trying to bring as many people with me. I’d love to get to know you!
Lots of love,
*Photo by Veronica Gutierrez.