November 10, 2014
On May 7, we lost our first baby. On November 6, we went to the doctor full of
hope and anxious to hear a new heartbeat, only to find that there wasn’t
one. I miscarried again on November
7. Six months to the day. There seems to be something significant about
the dates, rather than believe that the timing is all chance. However, I haven’t yet discerned the
significance. Maybe time will help with
that.
It. Is. Hard. My emotions change with each moment. They ebb and flow and thunder like a mountain
river. Numbness. Disappointment. Sadness.
Anger. All the while believing
that there has to be a purpose in all
of this. Because the Lord is good. Despite our loss. Despite our hurt. I just can’t believe it is all for
nothing. I can’t. My Jesus is intentional and purposeful. My babies, though not known to me, are known well
by the Lord. Because Psalm 139 says,
“For you formed by inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s
womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully
and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your
works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was
being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your
book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as
yet there was none of them.”
Though our babies’ days were short in number, their days
were formed and written, which means their days are worthy. They have purpose and significance. I am choosing to believe that.
I always wanted kids, always pictured myself as a mom. And, Brad, he makes me want to be a mom even
more, because it would be wonderful to parent together with such a good and
loving man. Still, I never dreamed it
would be like this. I never dreamed that
all of this pain and all of this hurt would be my story. I thought it would
be easier than this because it always has been.
My life. It has been pretty easy
up until the last two years. My story with all its paragraphs, pages,
and chapters is shaping up to be something quite different than I ever thought
it would be. But maybe that is where the
beauty lies…in the unpredictable, in learning to fight for the life I want, in
learning to persevere despite the hard, in overcoming. Maybe that is where the beauty lies. Where life truly begins. In the overcoming.
Romans 8:37-39 “In all these things we are more than
conquerors through him who loved us. For
I am sure that neither death nor life, nor angels nor rulers, nor things
present nor things to come, nor powers, nor height nor depth, nor anything else
in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ
Jesus our Lord.”December 28, 2014
Even seven weeks later, my emotions rumble, like a dormant
volcano that has groaned its way to life.
My temper is short with the ones I love the most in this world. I am oversensitive to trivial things. I am angry at the people who take their
children for granted…the people who spit verbal darts that pierce the hearts of
children who love and depend on them, the people who abuse their children and
who are indifferent to them, the people who fight with their children and also
the people who fail to fight for
them. I am even angry at the people who
can walk through the throng of baby clothes in a store and not feel
anything. Because it brings me to tears
to gaze at the baby clothes I could have been buying this year. And still, I can’t help myself…my fingers float
across the cozy sleepers and I feel the emptiness all over again. And I am angry because I have suffered this
loss not just once, but twice. While
others who could care less about having children have them anyway. And I am angry because I just don’t
understand. I want so badly to ask why,
but I know the Lord is oftentimes silent during the test. To see what we are made of, what our faith is
made of. I’m not going to lie. My faith falters daily when I think about the
babies I long to hold. I am caught in
that shadowy place where there is both darkness and light, the place between
where I am and where I long to be. And
there are so many times I feel lost and unsteady in that waiting place, a small
fishing vessel caught in a stormy gale. I
am fighting for hope, to be free of the doubt and fear of becoming pregnant
again. I am fighting for joy despite the
pain and anger and fear. Sometimes the
joy is a bright star, bold and beautiful in the darkness. And sometimes the light of joy seems like a
fading star in the distance, so dim that I wonder if I’m really seeing it at
all or if it is only imagined. And so,
the journey continues…one step. Then,
another.
December
30, 2014
Today is a better day.
Today I can breathe without struggling.
The pressure on my chest is light.
The hope is here. I’ve been
spending some time reading Beth Moore’s book Praying God’s Word and oh, how I felt my burdens becoming
lighter! It was like the warmth of truth
melted the weight of the ice, the coldness that has become part of me, and
lifted it into the air as a dissipating vapor.
The anger is light. The hurt is
light. The hope…that is what I see and
feel and cling to today. I know the
emotions will continue to take me down a path of twists and turns, but I will
fight for my joy, my truth in Jesus.
My favorite prayers from the Overcoming Despair Resulting from Loss section of her book:
“Lord, I don’t
want to waver through unbelief regarding Your promises, but I desire to be
strengthened in my faith and give glory to You, God, being fully persuaded that
You have power to do what You promise.
You credit this kind of faith to Your children as righteousness!” (Rom.
4:20-22)
“Lord, in my heart
I plan my course, but You determine my steps. (Prov. 16:9) Life is not going as I planned. I am so grateful that You are not caught off
guard. You knew everything that would
befall me. Please direct my steps as You
determine. I need You, Lord. Carry me when I cannot walk.”
“Lord, after this
suffering, let it be said that what has happened to me has really served to
advance the gospel. As a result, make my
Savior clear to all those around me.
Because of my suffering and willing perseverance, cause others to be
encouraged to speak the Word of God more courageously and fearlessly.” (Phil.
1:12-14)
“I am still confident
of this: I will see your goodness, Lord, in the land of the living. I will wait for You, Lord. I will be strong and take heart and wait for
You.” (Ps. 27:13-14)
I am okay. I have
been okay for a little while now. I can
take a breath without the heaviness slamming into me like a crushing wave. One step and then another turned into two
steps, turned into three, turned into four…turned into okay, and even good.
The sadness is still there.
I still feel the loss. But I have
chosen to cling to the hope and the promise that this isn’t all our story is
meant to be. There is more to our story
and the best is yet to come.
