Hi, my name is Aimee Jones. I’m 34 years old and my story is “Identity Through Loss.”

I grew up in a stable, loving Christian home. I was raised to believe I can do anything I set my mind to and that God wanted to give me every blessing in life. And throughout my childhood, teens, and twenties that proved to be true. I decided to become an industrial engineer. I worked hard and achieved every goal I set. I was a successful engineer on a leadership path in a big corporation. I had a happy marriage to a wonderful husband and my life was going as planned.

But as time went on, I felt that God was showing me that my career should not be my main focus and gave me the desire to have children. My husband was on the same page. We got pregnant quickly, and I quit my engineering job to focus on the pregnancy and be a stay at home mom. My identity took a swift shift. Instead of focusing on performance and achievement at work, I was focused on being the best and most prepared mom I could be. I read books, watched dozens of baby-related videos online, and took classes. I spent all my time and energy on my pregnancy and the sweet baby girl growing in my belly.

With all of my hard work and research, nothing could have prepared me for what would happen next. At an ultrasound just short of 35 weeks, we found out our daughter Ginny had died in my womb. Our world came crashing down. Everything I had planned and all I envisioned for the future was gone. How could God have allowed this? We were Christians; wasn’t he supposed to bless us and protect us? I gave birth to Ginny’s body the next day. We spent some time holding and admiring her before we had to say goodbye. My heart was broken, but it was clear God was with us.

Our moms and my sister came to care for us that first week. My heart and body were so heavy with shock and grief and physical pain. And then they left, and I was left with an empty house, no baby, no job, and seemingly no future. In one moment, it felt like my identity as a mother had been erased weeks after my identity as an engineer was forfeited. What was left for me? How was I going to even fill my days or distract myself from the pain? I couldn’t imagine going back to my stressful engineering job and filling my time with things that felt almost meaningless to me now. I decided I needed to spend my days doing the only thing that was in front of me to do – grieve.

I delved head first into my grief. I treated my mourning as if it was my baby to care for; I tended to it and nurtured it. I journaled, prayed, walked, read, and cried and cried and cried. I was humbled to experience sorrow and suffering for the first time in my life. All the while, God was right there with me, closer than He had ever been before. God met me in my grief. He held me as I wrestled with all my angry “why” and “what if” questions. I brought it all before Him, and He brought me into sanctification and a new identity. He showed me that my identity was not an engineer or even a mother; my identity was a beloved Daughter of God. It had nothing to do with what I achieved or how perfect my plan was; it had all to do with the undeserved love He has for me.

I came to understand that God does want to bless us, but it doesn’t always look the way we want it to. Sometimes it looks like hardship and heartache. But He will walk us through it and give us the gifts of compassion, hope, faith, and identity on the other side. I will always have an ache in my heart missing my daughter, but I have hope that I will see Ginny again in heaven. My perspective has completely changed, and now I focus my time on whatever God wants me to do – which usually entails a lot more grace, service, and empathy than anything I ever “achieved”. And I have never felt more blessed!