Here I am again. I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t know the big picture. I don’t know God’s plan in this, or what His purpose is. But here I am, mourning the loss of another child. My fourth miscarriage.
I feel like my flesh and my spirit are at battle. My flesh keeps thinking “Does God hate me? Is He punishing me?” and my spirit is fighting back with the knowledge that God loves me, that I am His, and that all things happen according to His will and purpose. But I feel like this knowledge is just that – knowledge, and I’m having a hard time holding onto it as truth. I know the right answers. I know my theology. I know what I believe. But in times of sorrow it is so hard to move beyond knowing to truly believing and holding onto what is true.
I feel like I am standing on the edge of a pit and the pit is calling me to fall into darkness, depression, and despair. And there seems to be one little string wrapped around me that is just barely holding me back. I keep looking at the pit and then looking at the string, inching forward and then back, my mind pressing me towards the pit and my soul calling me to keep holding on. It feels like the pit it bigger and stronger than this tiny little string. This string that reminds me I have been here before, that God was always there, and that He brought me through. He can do it again. He will do it again. His Word, His promises, His enduring love, is a life preserver.
“If the LORD had not been my help, my soul would soon have lived in silence. When I thought, ‘My foot slips,’ your steadfast love, O LORD, held me up. When the cares of my heart were many, your consolations cheer my soul.” – Psalm 94:17-19
Rylie – January 2013
Rylan – May 2013
Jesse – January 2014
Elisha – June 2016
I hope and pray I will never have to add to this list again. But naming the babies that I have lost (for life begins at conception) is truly comforting to me. Every single time I have named the baby, a weight was lifted off my shoulders. I have felt a sense of peace. It may seem strange to name a baby that hardly lived, but for me it acknowledges that this baby was a part of our family and a part of our lives, even if for a very short time. I chose Elisha because it means “God is salvation” and I am needing that reminder daily. So now every time I think of Elisha, I’ll remember God is salvation, just like every time I think of Jesse, I remember that God sees. And even though Rylie and Rylan’s names have no special meaning, when I think of them I remember that God is hope and peace.
My God is a God who gives hope and peace and is a God who sees and saves. That is what the Lord has taught, and continues to teach, me through these losses. It is hard to say it or even believe it right now, but God is good to use this sorrow and pain to sanctify me and to bring glory to His name, and in ways I may never know.
One of the hardest parts of this miscarriage is having Grayson, who is old enough to know something is wrong, ask why I’m upset and why the baby is gone. It’s really hard to hear him ask these questions, even harder to give him an answer, but it’s been a great opportunity for him to see what faith in God looks like during grief. I’ve been able to tell him of God’s sovereignty and that even though really sad things happen, God is still in control and He has a plan.
I heard him talking to himself yesterday while he was playing. He was saying “The baby in Mommy’s tummy is gone. God doesn’t want the baby to be in Mommy’s tummy.” He doesn’t know or understand the full concept of this but in his child like understanding, he does get that God is the One who decides and that it’s okay. Grayson has hugged me and comforted me when I’ve broken down crying and he has listened when I have tried to explain, in simple words, what has happened. He’s been able to accept that “God doesn’t want the baby to be in Mommy’s tummy” (his own words, not mine) and I always remind him that God might give us another baby someday. It has been a bittersweet experience to teach him through the pain and sorrow. And to see him grow in understanding and knowledge of the good God we serve.
This miscarriage has had so many ups and downs for me, as you can see. I go from staring into the pit to rejoicing that God is good despite my pain. Both are true, both are real. The pit yawns before me many days but knowing, believing, that God is sovereign, that His love endures, that He is good and faithful despite what I feel, and that joy comes with the morning, is what will keep me from ever succumbing to despair. He has given me so much and He has never left me. Never. He will continue to sustain me. All is not lost.
His love endures forever.