I read a quote in a book sometime in the last few years, “Our pain in not wasted.” God can take anything that was meant for harm and redeem it for His good. That’s a truth I’ve been CLINGING to lately.
You see, mid-April Blaise and I found out that we were pregnant. It was an AWESOME discovery full of tears, excitement, a wee bit of fear, and overwhelming joy about the life growing inside of me. We had been waiting for that day for about a year, so as soon as we found out, we kicked into baby mode. I ordered a pregnancy journal, we bought What to Expect When You’re Expecting, and we began the weekly pregnancy pictures. I immediately stopped drinking my daily coffee, bought a bunch of dark, leafy greens, and even bought salmon (I despise fish) so I could get the well-balanced diet I needed. We wandered through the baby and maternity aisles at Target, and we began dreaming of what parenting a child would be like in Nasir, South Sudan.
I was excited to share the news with my family (I had already planned several ideas for sharing the news long-distance), but I was also dreaming of sharing the news (well, by September my 6-month pregnant belly would share it for me) with my sisters in Nasir who’ve asked about us having children since I first met them in 2010. I would finally show up in Nasir PREGNANT! Not only would they be thrilled beyond belief, but my pregnancy would be a bridge for the Gospel between my culture and theirs. It was beautiful timing and we praised God for how He was already writing this story.
And then the bleeding started.
I knew that something bad was happening, but we prayed–begging and pleading with God to protect the baby I was carrying–and trusted that this precious life would not be lost. After two trips to the doctor and a referral to the hospital, a couple of very invasive ultrasounds, giving several vials of blood, a few days, and a lot more tears and prayers later, we found out that we had lost the baby. Gone. The doctor said things like, “No heartbeat…hormone levels too low…not a viable pregnancy.” And then she followed it up with a rambling of statistics and assurances like, “Twenty-five percent of pregnancies end in miscarriage…just because you have one doesn’t make you more likely to have another.” But all I heard was that our baby was gone. No more.
And then the gut-wrenching pain came.
At first it was shock and disbelief. I couldn’t believe this was happening to us. It had seemed like such perfect timing…I had done everything right. How could this be happening? And the ultimate question: WHY??
I’m not at all going to say that my response to this situation was anything less than full-on grief, anger, and bitterness. I just did not understand why this would happen. I had already started falling in love with the child growing inside of me, had already begun having dreams of having a baby in my arms, and I certainly had already started FEELING pregnant. I asked a bazillion questions like why did God even let me get pregnant to begin with just to lose the baby so soon? Why does it feel like we’re being punished for trying to be faithful? How is it possible to feel so much pain and loss after such a short time? Why is God allowing this pain? He’s all-powerful and could have healed me, so why didn’t He?
I could barely pray, and when I did, it was mostly just weeping and asking Him those same questions again and again. I could barely look people in the eyes, and literally had no response when they casually asked how I was doing. I was more than a little uncomfortable in any social setting, suddenly becoming awkward and I think rude at times. And nearly EVERYTHING made me cry. I hated getting dressed up (which I had to do twice that very first week), because I felt so disgusting. I had this overwhelming feeling that my body was broken and had failed at the one thing that it was created to do. I was an absolute mess…all questions and no answers.
And do you know what? I still don’t know the answers to those questions I began asking more than a month ago. I may never understand why we weren’t allowed to keep that baby. I will probably always be sad that our first pregnancy ended so abruptly…that at the end of it I didn’t have a baby in my arms.
But I do know that God is faithful.
And I don’t say that as some pat response to difficult situations. In fact, I WRESTLED with God through this miscarriage. I gave Him ALL of my stuff…my anger, my grief, my pain, my doubt, my distrust. I immediately wanted to quit being a missionary…how could I possibly share God’s love with others when I didn’t feel it? I wanted to retreat from everything that appeared risky (mostly missions) and just stay here in the States, where I had the illusion of safety and control. It was a pretty dark and ugly time. But I’ll say it again: God is faithful.
The day that I found out for sure that I had miscarried we attended a special Friday night worship service at church. Our home group already knew (we sent them a message so they could intercede on our behalf), and during that service three of my beautiful, faithful sisters in Christ sat with me in my pew, holding my hands, hugging me, and SOBBING with me. This wasn’t their baby or their pain, but they hugged me and they cried. I have never had anyone mourn with me in that way, but folks, I have also never felt God’s love so tangibly before that moment. It is a powerful kind of love in which others are willing to enter into your pain and feel it with you. Compassion = co-suffering.
I also got to watch my normally laid-back husband come out of his shell, take me by the hands, and lead me through this exceptionally difficult time with grace, mercy, and a quiet strength. I will never look at him the same way again. His own grief, his gentle words, his solid embraces, and his soft assurances were a lifeline when I felt like I was drowning in sorrow.
And other women were amazing to me as I walked through this. I knew of several of my friends who have been through this, so I contacted them and shared my story. They each had wisdom and words that infused me with hope and strength. We all walk through it and experience miscarriage differently, but I am such a firm believer in the power of sharing our stories. Each of them helped me more than they could possible understand…whether it was a phone call, text messages, sharing over coffee, or a Facebook message…it meant so much to have so many women supporting and praying for me.
I’m not sure how long it will take before I feel normal again…if that ever happens. But I can finally laugh without guilt, wear pretty dresses, and even dance when the occasion calls for it. That’s healing and that’s progress.
And it’s really all because of God’s amazing grace.
We took a few pictures. We started the weekly pictures at six weeks, when our baby was the size of a blueberry…
I had three ultrasounds done in a couple of weeks, but this was the first one when there was still a chance that everything could be okay. I am SO THANKFUL that the doctor gave me the pictures from the u/s, because I have something tangible from that lost pregnancy.
Do you have a similar story?
