Writing Processes – 2014 Blog Hop

My thanks to Brooke Williams for inviting me to join this blog hop!! She definitely has a passion for writing ... it shows throughout the pages of her books!



What am I working on right now?

I am currently working on a children's book. I have made the decision to keep the title to myself until it is finished. My hope is that it will help in viewing the world a little differently ... with hope.



How does my work differ from others of its genre?

I don't think that my work differs much from others of the same genre. I write with biblical truth. It's either black, or white - never in the middle.



Why do I write what I do?

I write about subjects that tend to be hidden within the heart. Whether it's a feeling that is too difficult to put into words, or a subject that can be written in a way that makes one look at life differently, my hope is that it helps to promote a little more compassion for those who live daily with a wounded heart. I like to get the readers attention by sharing my heart in a "raw" manner. I want to capture the readers heart and bring them into my world. I've been told that I wear my heart on my sleeve. There's a whole lot of heart - I just mentioned it five times while answering that question!



How does my writing process work?

My writing process has always been the same ... I write it out in my head first. I envision what I want to capture in the story and what I want the reader to feel. For months, I write down notes/ideas that fill my head/heart. After I feel as though I know exactly how I want the story to flow, I sit at my computer and begin the process of putting my heart into words. I ALWAYS write with music - worship music. I have not written anything without music. Music is like medicine for my writing. You will usually find my Bible on the table next to me, too. There are many prayers and loads of love that goes into what I share. I don't just want to write words, I want the reader to feel the words.



Thank you for taking the time in learning a little more about me!

You can find me on my Facebook page: Author Jennifer Ross.
On Twitter: @JenniferRoss777





You can find Isaiah's Story on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Family Christian, goodreads, iTunes, etc.

New Author Page On Facebook

I have not been blogging for quite a long time ... You can now find me on my new author Facebook page. I have written a book titled Isaiah's Story. I signed with Ambassador International.

For three years, I dreampt of writing a book in memory of my son ... God took my ashes, and made beauty.

God got the final word.

Jeremiah 29:11
"For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future."


To purchase Isaiah's Story, click on the following link:

'Isaiah's Story' on Amazon.

If you are interested in reading more about my journey, please click the following link, and it will take you to my author Facebook page.

Author Jennifer Ross


Remembering with you ...

Beautiful Project On Loss

I am so excited and humbled, to be a part of this beautiful project that my friend Vanessa Horning is creating. I was the first woman to participate.

Click on the link below, to read my story, and find out more information on how you can be a part of this beautiful project.

VBH Photography

Picture of Grief

This is a picture that I made yesterday, for a website in regards to loss. The website is stillbirthday.com

If you would like to make a picture representing loss, feel free, and e-mail them to the following; [email protected]



I titled this picture:

"Immeasurable Love"





My picture represents a broken heart... shattered to pieces... but brought back together, by God.



If you begin at the left side, you will see tear drops, colored blue and pink. These tear drops represent the sons and daughters that are loss... each drop, holding the mother's and father's hopes and dreams...



The tear drops are caught by the hand of God... He catches each and every one...



Below His hand, you will find a sea of tears, colored in blue and pink...



It is shaded black throughout the left, signifying grief and anger...



As you move to the middle, you will find the "O", this represents the child no longer living, but remembered with a lit candle... because we will NEVER forget... they once lived...



On your right, you will notice the picture capturing the colors of the rainbow... bringing about hope, love and peace...



The "O" in the middle has the dark and light colors meet, because though we strive to keep going, and living a life for those gone to soon... we have moments when the darkness pulls us in...



BUT... God is bigger... and better... He continually holds us... our children...



... and carries us back into the light, where we find hope...





~Jennifer Ross, 2013~

Walking With You ~ Finding Hope and Healing With or Without a Rainbow

"For the final WWY post in this segment, we will share our experiences with longing for another baby to fill our empty arms. Some experienced a subsequent pregnancy after loss. Some may be fearful of embarking on that journey again. Some may not be able to have another child, whether due to infertility or other reasons. Some may have found that having another baby, however precious a gift, was not the key to healing the grief. Can you experience hope and healing…even if there is no rainbow after the storm? Lori will be guest posting on this blog and I will share some thoughts as well. We hope many of you will also join in, linking your own posts."




After having my dreams ripped from my heart... from my arms... I refused to not allow God to bless us with another child. My husband and I had not used any form of birth control, but instead, consistently prayed for God to knit a precious child within my womb. I don't even think that I asked... I begged.

Why did I want to experience pregnancy so soon after burying my child? To be honest, the loss falls into a separate category, than having your dreams of mothering a child fresh from the surroundings of your womb, into your arms.

When Isaiah died...

My.Life.Shattered.

I couldn't bring him back, no matter how many tears I continually cried, or how much I pleaded with the Lord. He was gone.

I had been robbed of many joys...

Rubbing my cheek along his soft delicate baby cheeks...

Feeding and changing him every two hours, for nights that would have seemed endless...

Introducing my handsome bundle to my family and friends... In a way, it was like he never existed.

I walked around with a swollen belly, that appeared to be with child... though it was empty.

Having another child did not heal my pain. It filled that spot in me that was silently screaming within... empty... but slowly being filled with hope. I knew that there was no guarantee that we would conceive another child, BUT... God graced us with another precious boy.

Oh, how my heart leaped, when my eyes witnessed that pastel pink line travel along the pregnancy window. I remember feeling like I was walking atop the clouds. I felt like I had redeemed my motherhood...

I had been given this blessing, six months after loosing Isaiah. I had an emotional roller coaster ride ahead of me. Many ups and downs, but God saw me through each one.

The twist to my pregnancy after the loss of Isaiah... My body began to react with the same conditions within my uterus, as I had with Isaiah. I was told that there was a blood clot forming around the amniotic sac... and that no heartbeat was to be found...

You will have to read the following post that I had written on Ezekiel's first birthday, to fully grasp the story of our miracle baby.

He.Is.Alive.

God.Had.The.Final.Word.



Here is the post:


When I reflect on the past year, I can't help, but be taken back to the nine months of my pregnancy with you. I'll never forget seeing the pink positive line on my pregnancy test. With excitement and fear entangled as one, I called everyone I knew. We were having another baby!

Ezekiel, until you're older, you may not realize what a true miracle you are. At five weeks pregnant, my body started to fight what God had knit in my belly. I started to bleed and have the same problems that had taken place with your brother, Isaiah. To say that I was terrified, would be an understatement.

I went in for an ultrasound, and there was no heartbeat to be found. My heart sunk. My soul was crushed. Why?.....

The next day, because of the amount of bleeding, daddy took me to the E.R. They told me that I was miscarrying.

On the drive home, I could feel life inside of me. I could feel that you were still hanging on. I would NOT give up on you! I refused. I prayed with power from the depths of my being, a prayer of a mother that just can't say goodbye to another child.

GOD HEARD.

GOD ANSWERED.

People throughout the world began to pray. On their knees. In the morning. Throughout the day. At bedtime. Spreading the word.

You began to grow. Kick. Suck your thumb.

The blood clots began to go away.




We found out that we were having another little boy. How wonderful!



Each week, I got to watch my belly grow.



On the morning of October 16, 2009, we were preparing for your birth. I had this weight on my shoulders, full of fear. Fear of death. Is my child going to be born alive? Is my body going to be able to handle another birth? Another surgery. I pray unceasingly.



At 9:21 a.m., you take your first breath of life...... I exhale the cloud of death that consumed my thoughts, and took my first breath of hope.



You are our sweet angel.



My rainbow.



You have brought this family so much joy. Happiness. Laughs.



You are not a replacement for the loss of your brother. You are a beautiful addition to our family.

God took my broken heart. My broken dreams........ and filled my arms.

Thank you God.

You ARE good!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY :o) Ezekiel Isaiah Ross :o)

I love you.

(End of Post.)




Ezekiel's middle name had been chosen in honor of his big brother... Isaiah. The two of them will meet someday in heaven, but until then...

My Isaiah rests in the arms of God... and Ezekiel carries on the smiles, hugs, kisses and love of a mother's dreams that were shattered, but slowly being brought together, one day at a time.

Until we meet again.

Walking With You ~ Mirror, Mirror ~ The Comparison Trap

This weeks talk on Walking With You: "Mothers often fall into the trap of comparing ourselves to one another. This is a trap many women fall into. We compare our families, mothering styles, fashion sense, careers or lack thereof, bodies, etc. Even mothers with babies in heaven compare the way we grieve our children. I know…sad…but we do it, if we’re honest enough to admit it. So, how can we find freedom from this? Sharing is a start…telling the truth…admitting the struggle. I think, then, we will see that we all love our children, regardless of how we choose to remember and honor their lives…whether publicly or quietly…with big parties or simple moments of remembrance. Be real on this week’s post, and let’s free ourselves from the trap of comparing!"


I often struggle on feeling as though my image needs to be equal or above that of other mother's/women, but quickly realize that we are all created in His image... so technically, we are all the same. When it comes down to the way I compare myself to another bereaved mother, and how she chooses to remember her child(ren), well the answer is simple, I don't. I have always felt completely comfortable in reading on how a mother was extravagant, or simple in the way in which she chose to honor the life of her child(ren). My problem stretches among the judgemental people, who turn their noses up... point their finger at how I choose to honor my son.

When it comes to keeping the memory of my son alive, I become a fierce mother... just as I am to the four precious boys that I endlessly take care of and give a tender motherly love to, on a daily basis...

In the beginning of my loss, I would mother Isaiah in secret. I had a feeling of shame as I thought on little things that I wanted to do for him. Just because of his absence in my physical life, did not mean that I did not have a mother's natural instinct to show my love to and for my child. I carried him within my womb for 19 weeks and 3 days. As each day passed, I grew more aware of his personality... I bonded with my son. I fell in love with the daydreams I had of holding him... loving him... bringing him home from the hospital... raising him.


I was his mama.

I.Am.His.Mama.


The duty of being a mother, does not get erased just because your child died. I know that can be a scary word, especially when speaking of a tiny innocent baby dying, but it happens. Instead of the weird looks or thoughts of others, I think that there could be a little more compassion for the parents who want to memorialize the life of their child. The world kept spinning, as our hearts became shattered. Some women, including myself, become frantic, trying to search for each piece, so that we can bring the pieces back together. It may be days, weeks, months, and some years... we have taken on a new shape, but that one very special piece cannot be found... Our child(ren) are gone, but somehow, still remain here with us. We medicate that empty hole, that missing piece, by doing unique things... whether it be that empty spot at the table, in the car, under the Christmas tree, on the blanket watching fireworks, etc. Our hearts become marinated in the love that we are able to give.

Have you ever thought what love really is, or what is the best way to show love?


Wikipedia states: "Love is an emotion of a strong affection and personal attachment."

I would have to agree to the above definition. I loved that little boy more than my fingers can type in an expression to describe... Personal attachment? I would have to fill my lungs with every ounce of oxygen that I could inhale, and shout out "Yes!"

God had to forsake Jesus at the cross... He never asked me to do the same to my son.


No more feeling shameful.

No more hiding.

No more whispering.

No more giving excuses.



He was my little boy.

He.Is.My.Little.Boy.



Until my dying day, I will mother my son, Isaiah Christopher Ross.

It may be by placing his baby chick on his grave at Easter, a pumpkin in the fall, a wreath during the Christmas season, having his birth date/name/footprints engraved in my back, etc. It may be as simple as baking and decorating a cake in honor of his life... of my deep undying love for my child...

This was Isaiah's 2nd. birthday cake. I bought the star candles to give it a little bit of heaven, and the two candles in the middle were for his birthday. While we were singing "Happy Birthday," the two middle candles went out, just as if he were there with us in that very moment, silently participating... whispering, "I am here mama... I love you"......



“You've gotta dance like there's nobody watching,
Love like you'll never be hurt,
Sing like there's nobody listening,
And live like it's heaven on earth.”
― William W. Purkey

Walking With You ~ Overcoming Guilt ~ Embracing Joy

This weeks talk on Walking With You: "One area so many mothers struggle with is guilt, especially those who experience the loss of a baby/child. We want to address this struggle in this post. It will help mothers quietly battling guilt for living life and experiencing joy to know they are not alone. Other moms silently battle this as well. Whether it is the startling first time you really laugh after losing your child, or whether you have experienced the healing balm of joy for years, share your thoughts on this week’s post."

I have thought on this subject for a handful of days, and how I was to answer these somewhat "simple" questions. Just compile a list of painful memories, and how I have carried around the guilt of the death of my son. Simple. The answer became more complex, as I searched over the broken pieces that have been swimming around in my heart, throughout the last four years.

Sunday morning, I was standing in the bathroom with my eight year old son, Parker, fixing his hair for church. As he was standing there, watching me in the mirror, he asked, "Mom, how did Isaiah die?" I stood there, kept combing his hair, my heart began to beat faster and faster, and I honestly was at a loss for words. How do I answer this question. A person may answer, "Tell the truth." It's really not that easy. Well Parker... "Your brother's life was taken, so that I could have a fighting chance at living. Yes, that's right, kind of like murder." Really? I don't want to lie to my children. They need to know the truth, but are too young to completely swallow the entire "real life" story. They know that I almost died, but I don't think their minds can imagine a little boy, their brother, laying in my arms, fighting for his life... Heart slowly beating... oxygen depleting... death overtaking life... gone.

Forever... in this life.

I think he could read the pain in my eyes, and accepted my quick answer, "Parker, there are a lot of things about the loss of Isaiah that you just can't understand right now at your age. When you get older, you'll be able to understand the story completely," as I continued combing over the same patch of hair, a dozen times. He gave a quick/cheerful "Okay," and ran off to go play with his brothers.

I feel like I have to conceal the way Isaiah died, like I'm going to be judged on what a selfish, wretched mother I must be, allowing death to come upon my little boy. On rare occasions, my mother will have to comfort me, whispering the same sentence, "Jenny, you were going to die, the doctor did all she could do to try and change your health, and there was no other option." With a crack in my voice, I conclude, "I know, I just wish..."

Last summer (2012), I went to the hospital to get copies of my medical records. Only a couple of people knew that I did this. I ordered from the night of August 2, 2008 - August 5, 2008. The woman told me that I couldn't get them for a few days, and that I could have them mailed or that I could pick them up. "Pick up please," I quickly stated. I opened the door, walked down the shadowed hallway, past the cream walls, and to the elevator. My legs felt heavy, the same as my heart did. I pushed the button to the main floor, all the while, my thoughts were consuming every inch that had healed over the last three and a half years. Did I just open a door, that I'm going to regret? Am I going to read the doctors notes, and find reason to believe, that she was wrong in the decisions that were made in regards to my health?

Three long days passed. I got a call from the woman in the medical records department, letting me know that my papers were finished, and could be picked up at any time. "Thank you," I exhaled heavily.

After picking up the envelope, I quietly sat in my car, still debating if I should read them, or shred them. I started the ignition, laid the envelope on my lap, and slowly drove home. You sure do look at life differently, when your eyes, heart and soul, search for good among the bad.

I walked through the front door, and sat on my couch. Opened the seal of the envelope... the seal of "life." Slowly pulling out the packet of papers, I flipped through papers upon papers of blood transfusions. My past was alive again, as I continued searching.

There it was... My doctors medical notes (quotes from her notes):

*"The patient was adamant she wanted to try and save the pregnancy."

*"The decision in light of the chronic placenta abruption underlying an acute further abruption now leading towards DIC."

*"The decision was made to proceed with induction for life saving measuring."

*The infant was then swaddled and wrapped in a warm blanket and placed on mother's abdomen..."

I'm going to cut in here real quick... Isaiah was delivered into the mighty hands of God at this point in the notes...

*"Estimated blood loss during delivery is 525 ml."

I'm now in the O.R.:

*"She was placed under anesthesia by Dr. O"

*"Attempt at using the large curet to scrape free the tissue, but was very difficult."

*"The placenta came out in multiple small fragments with pieces of membrane and small pieces of cord and very attached to the uterine wall."

*"I had a very difficult time getting any kind of uterine wall texture."

*"She was taken immediately to ICU."

*"Estimated Blood Loss: 300-350 mL of active blood in the operating room."

*"Fluid Replacement: 2300 mL in the operating room."

These were just little pieces of the 48 pages of copied notes, from my medical records. I investigated every single letter and number in that booklet that held my life... my sons life. I had to see with my own two eyes, read each word...

That.There.Was.No.Other.Option.

I placed that packet back into the white envelope that it was given to me in, and sat silently on my couch. Tears filled my eyes, as I whispered...

There.Was.No.Other.Option.

I believe that in that very moment, I was allowed a different kind of healing.

I had held myself captive in the first three years following his death. I would emotionally and mentally keep my heart in the very place where his stopped...
Swallowing the truth of his death, was not going to be an option... Until now...

No more.

No more imprisoning myself with an unreasonable guilt. God's will is not for me to travel as if I were lost, but awake to a new day, finding the good, the love in life.

On one of my recent posts, I wrote this; "I have concluded that there will be no forgiving myself. How do you forgive yourself, when there was nothing you could do? It's not possible, nor necessary. I have come to accept that fact. Trust and faith in God, will be my greatest recipe for my healing."

I made a decision to look at life deeper, for him... for me. I learned how to carry him in my heart, not keeping it on that blood-ridden bed, where the lasts of his heartbeats were heard.

I remember in the first few months after his death, I would conceal my smile around people, other than my family. I thought if they witnessed a smile, they would assume that I was "fixed." All better. Now we can have her back... the way she used to be. There is one problem with that... I will never be the same.

Honestly, I don't think that I can get through two hours, without thinking about him. I carry him around in my heart, mind and soul. He is a part of me. His little body was carved with special pieces of my husband and myself. The Lord knit him with the very best pieces of his daddy and me. Maybe, that is why he couldn't stay here on this earth... he was far too perfect...