I recently had a miscarriage.
We found out we were pregnant and
there was so much overflowing, overwhelming joy. My husband and I praised the Lord for this new blessing that
came into our lives. Our mindset and lives changed the moment we found out we
were expecting. We shared with our
family and a few friends. It was an unblemished experience. I won’t ever forget
when I told my parents that they were going to be grandparents for the first
time. Like any excited, expectant mom I started hashing over names with my
husband. He called “Mama” on a regular basis. I told him what a wonderful
father he was going to be. This
was the good life.
Still with all this joy, I had a,
“What if?” type of attitude. I shared with my husband, and he told me to be
excited for the current moment and that the Lord would take us through the
rest. I really think the Lord was preparing my heart for one of the darkest
times I was to walk through.
The day of my first ultrasound appointment
came. I was all nerves throughout the day, dreading the news. I prayed and
rested in my Savior. No matter the outcome I would praise Him still.
The entire appointment plays
through my mind, each detail, all too painful to recall. The outcome: our baby
had no heartbeat. I can honestly say this is when my fog set in, a grief too
deep, a loss too great to ever express. My baby, my sweet dreamed of baby, was
resting safely in the arms of my Lord, but I still carried its earthly body.
Next to come was a
week filled with doctors visits, blood draws, and a final decision, that I
would need to have a D & C (Dilation and Curettage) the following Monday.
Life was a blur. The morning of the surgery was cold, the gutters were filled
with ice, and I felt like the cold was creeping into my heart. My sweet husband
held me in heaping sobs more times then I can count, he was there with me when
I woke up for the surgery. He helped dress me, and saw the same bloody spots on
the bed that I did, all reminders that our dreams shattered around us.
Was this really the life God had planned for
me? Yes! This was God’s plan. Am I to fully know his purpose? No! But I will
praise Him still! Does this mean my grief is lightened, my loss lessened? No!
It means I do not carry it alone. A favorite preacher of mine, John Piper, got
me through some of the darkest moments, when my heart had no words or prays,
just deep tears. He had preached on “Sustaining Grace,” and came up with a
catchy limerick to help us see a glimpse of the picture.
“Sustaining Grace
Not grace to bar that which is not bliss,
Nor flight from all distress, but this:
Grace that orders our trouble and pain,
And then, in the darkness, is there to sustain.”
The only peace I had and still have
comes not from man’s words of affirmation, but knowing that even this is God’s plan, and He will sustain me in my darkest moments.
This loss has been
very deep. My worship has changed, my view of God has changed, my heart has
changed, my joy has changed. Life right now is still very heavy, my days still
cloudy, and my joy fleeting. I have joy in Jesus, but the joy that lightens my
heart is but a small ember pushed off the fire. It feels as each month passes,
and as my belly remains the same, my sorrow deepens. I know exactly how far
along I would be right now. And I miss my baby. Pregnancy is supposed to be a
magical time; you are blessed to grow a person! And I not only mourn for the
person I lost, but the process I was supposed to be experiencing. I think that’s why each month gets
harder; I was looking forward to the process, the entire thing, buying
maternity clothes, finding out the gender, preparing all things baby. The
ultrasounds are what get me now, any time I see a picture of one, my heart
falls into my stomach as I remember with much clarity the ultrasound picture of
my lifeless baby.
This sadness is like
nothing I have ever experienced; it is a weight, an ache in my heart, a pull in
my stomach, a weakness in my bones. I cry at the most unexpected times. I do not like talking to acquaintances
because I feel that the traditional greetings fall flat and sit on lies. “I’m
good” is not how I really am. I am broken! Most people have no idea what
happened, so they ask questions, “How’s married life?” My response is always,
“Good.” And it really is! I love my husband; I love being married to him! He is
an amazing encourager, and it blesses my heart to know I do not walk completely
alone. Marriage is amazing! But the
next questions are the ones I dread,
“So will you have babies anytime soon? Or are you going to wait?” I recoil at
this question. It hurts to my innermost being. I often times cannot muster up a
response, I just shrug my shoulders as if this is the newest thought. My heart
cries, then after, I often do as well.
I don’t like talking
to most people who know about this situation, because I can’t bear to tell them
how I’m really feeling. I can’t bear it when they are experiencing life’s joy,
and I am experiencing life’s sorrow. Not because I am jealous, or don’t care
but because I feel like if I share my heart—my breaking, dark heart—with them,
I am somehow stealing their joy. They have every right to be elated; God’s
blessings are AMAZING and should be rejoiced. But my current heart is grieving,
filled with deep sorrow and my way of expressing any sort of happiness for
others right now, is by just being in their presence. Because all I
want to do is be alone.
Spurgeon encourages us
to Rejoice for what’s to come while we are in the midst of our suffering, that
God is most pleased with the heart that rejoices for the things He is going to
do, not just what He has already done. It’s easy to praise God for bringing you
out of a trial or for Him showing you His goodness. It is a hard thing to
praise God within the darkness for the things He is going to do.
I will always have a
sorrow in my heart, and a longing for heaven, because of my loss. The gift I
was given was great. And I am so thankful that the Lord allowed me to have that
gift, even if, but for a short period of time, because now I will worship my
Savior alongside my child. We will praise the High King together, and I rejoice
and look forward to that day.
This is just part of my
process; much has still been left unsaid. But my Lord hears my cry. He has a
plan, “He will swallow up death forever; and the Lord God will wipe away tears
form all faces, and the reproach of his people he will take away from all the
earth, for the LORD has spoken.” Isaiah 25:8
So is this now the
good life? It’s the life I’ve been given, and the road I’m set to walk, and my
God will bring me through to the end. So yes, this is the good life, because my
Savior leads me. While my circumstances may be be bad and may hurt, the Lord is
good in the midst of it, so it has to be the good life—Not, the best life—I
believe that that is waiting in heaven, but it is good, for God is with me now.
My sorrow may be deep, my loss may
be great, but my God is still High King and gives rest for my soul.
