Hope when Miscarrying a Baby

I forget. I forget whenever I’m holding my wiggly, chubby 12 month old (who happens to be averse to sleep). I forget when I’m neck-deep in the trenches of motherhood and homeschooling and leaking faucets. I forget when I feel like maybe my hands are TOO full of blessings.

But then I hear a brave woman’s vulnerable story or heartbreak, loss, the wanting of children and I remember. I hear a strain of music, and I remember. I smell fall in the wind and I remember. I remember the longing and waves of grief and tears into my pillow at night.

I remember the feelings of helplessness, of waste, of betrayal. I remember the bittersweet mixture of laughter and longing, hope and bereavement. You see, I was supposed to write my story about 18 months ago. But it started a year and a half before that. That’s where I’ll begin.

February 2020. Right before the world shut down. We had two kids. Isa was about to be five and Elias was about to be two. We had sold or given away all of our baby stuff and were done when I felt the stirring of the Spirit calling us to more children. Or at least one more.

I talked to Jesse about it and he said he was fine with just two but if I felt like we were to have more, he would stand with me. I got pregnant right away, with a positive pregnancy test two days after Elias turned two. We told people right away! We were so excited and grateful for this new life.

This was my Joy Baby; when I thought of this new little one, I was filled with joy and began the weaving of dreams and desires and the “what are you gonna be likes” of desired motherhood. Ten days later, I started bleeding. I had never experienced a miscarriage before but I knew what was happening and I was devastated. The Lord was near. He held me as I turned to Him, praying,

“Make me a vessel

Make me an offering

Make me whatever

You want me to be

I came here with nothing

But all You have given me

Jesus, bring new wine out of me.”

I didn’t expect to get pregnant again right away but, six weeks later, another positive pregnancy test. Two days after that one came the bleeding. Repeated blows doesn’t make it any easier to bear, doesn’t soften the grief for the life you hoped to share. Once again, Father God met me in my “whys” and my tears and my anxiety.

At this point, I sought help from my doctor because something was obviously wrong. He gave me some progesterone and told me to let him know when I became pregnant again.

Several months later, another positive test.

Okay. This time. This time is It. This time I feel robust. It can’t possibly happen a third time. I’m sure you already know where this is going. It happened a third time. And this time was hardest; I had made it eight weeks with the help of progesterone and then lost our third sweet baby that year.

I’m not sure which is worse; the ache of longing for your arms to be filled or the ache when you know that that little soul is in the arms of Jesus. And you know what amazed me this time? How I woke up every morning and I still felt… hope. It was like this God we serve was reminding me, “I’m not done with you.

There’s always hope and a future with me. Just follow. Just trust the story.” I love that about Him—always a little speck of hope shining in the darkest days to keep you going.

I battled through the grief and trauma and disappointment and guilt with my counselor. Grief from little lives lost, trauma because my body and heart had been repeatedly wounded, disappointment because that was one of the biggest emotions I felt as I said goodbye to my hopes and plans and dreams. And guilt too. Because I didn’t feel like I should mourn my childlessness when I already had my arms full.

The next season we faced was a season of infertility. I was working with a couple doctors to get my body back into shape, to care for it and nurture it after its hard year, and we began trying-not-trying after they thought I was doing better. After eight months and nothing to show for it, I was getting impatient. “Lord, You were the One calling me, calling us, to more children. What’s going on? If children are a blessing, why are You withholding them? Do you not want to bless me?? Is it my pride? Am I a bad mother? Is there some hidden sin I need to confess?” The self-searching and self-diagnoses was pretty much ongoing. We went to a fertility specialist who suggested the usual tests but couldn’t pinpoint what she thought was wrong.

I remember a few things that loom above all the other stuff God showed me and taught me in that season. One was the truth in the words of this song, a song I can sing on a deeper heart level now.

“I love Your voice

You have led me through the fire

In the darkest night

You are close like no other

I've known You as a Father

I've known You as a friend

I have lived in the goodness of God.”

Often times in “the desert,” I think it’s common to search the scriptures for any pearls of wisdom or clues to the “whys” that inevitably pop up. I remember reading Hannah’s story. Hannah, who did everything “right” and yet was still childless, apparently on purpose because the Lord had closed her womb (I Sam. 1:5)?! Why God??? She wasn’t spiteful like Peninnah. Her heart was right before You. All she wanted was the blessing of children, a godly desire!

My studies led me to Sarah, who God promised was to be a mother of nations with kings of peoples coming from her (Gen. 17:16). Her womb was opened right when God wanted it to be, and miraculously at that! I was also amazed to go on and realize that ALL THREE patriarchs had wives, through whom God promised to give innumerable descendants (Gen. 16:4-6), who had seasons of infertility. (Sarah and Rebekah and Rachel—look them up and notice the wording, “He opened her womb.”)

I had read these stories many times and just now saw the common thread. The thread of TRUSTING the Lord for His good gifts and knowing it is He who opens wombs. What a hard and wonderful and discouraging/encouraging message all at once! I had no guarantee He would open my womb. But these stories taught me more about Who He is beyond just “Giver of Children.” He loved Abraham and Isaac and Jacob and their families. He promised great things for them and was faithfully their God and Friend, even when they really screwed up a lot! And He consistently provided, guided and blessed them. That’s my God. Even when it’s hard to remember. Even when I walk through the deserts of life.

I think lots of times the words “God has a plan” ring shallow, cause pain, and are just plain annoying in those seasons of living with a soul-ache. I remember one day crying out to God, “Lord, Redeemer! Redeem this heartache. Redeem this situation.” And in one of those sweet moments of clarity before the Throne, He said, “I am redeeming you.”

I mustn’t forget that that is His perfect plan in all things, working for my good and His glory—redemption. I am humbled and awed by those peeks and reminders of the big overarching story of Christ in me. And yes, sometimes redemption looks like heartache and loss and really really hard seasons. What a bittersweet agony!

Here I sit. Almost three years to the day I lost that first wee one to miscarriage. I have another baby! She just turned one year old. Gemma. Many of you know her and bless me by loving her so well. The Lord brought her to us when I didn’t expect it. He showed me over and over in that pregnancy that He is Lord, Life-Giver and Sustainer. It was a pregnancy of surrender and surprise.

Ask me about it sometime and I’ll tell you her special story. And I pray that God won’t allow me to forget. I don’t want to forget the pain. I don’t want to forget what it felt like as I kneel before the Lord on behalf of so many sisters and brothers who are in that same desert. I don’t want to forget what He’s done and what He didn’t do as I look into the eyes of dear ones who share their stories of childlessness.

May I continue to invite Him to redeem me wherever and however He sees fit. Because He’s my Father and my Friend. And He is good.