Within the first couple of hours of realizing I lost the baby, I sat down to do my Advent reading because what else do you do in the face of such sadness? I went on to read the next chapter in Knowing God, and I cried my way through the whole thing. But I wept through this:
"What matters supremely, therefore, is not the fact that I know God, but the larger fact which underlies it- the fact that he knows me. I am graven on the palms of his hands. I am never out of his mind. All my knowledge of him depends on his sustained initiative in knowing me. I know him because he first knew me, and continues to know me. He knows me as a friend, one who loves me; and there is no moment when his eye is off me, or his attention distracted from me, and no moment, therefore, when his care falters." (Knowing God by J.I. Packer)
I began to plead to God that I would know without question His steadfast and personal love in a new way through this loss.
I try to be intentional about taking note of all the ways God shows His lovingkindness towards me even in the midst of disappointment.
On my way to my post-miscarriage doctor's appointment that I was truly dreading, I had a text from my mom and two friends letting me know they were praying for me. And the nurse was so kind and compassionate to me as I cried my way through the weight check and blood pressure check. The whole reason I didn't want to go to this appointment was the ultrasound. I couldn't bear the thought of seeing the empty screen. But by God's mercy alone, they didn't make me have one. There has been evidence of God's love laced through all of the mourning.
But there are still hard moments.
I was talking to Adam one night about how prideful it felt that we would so flippantly talk about when we'd have a baby. We had experienced nothing but ease when it came to getting pregnant. How silly for us to assume that we could just pick a month we'd like to get pregnant and expect a baby 9 months later. With a new sense of humility, I shared that this was a great reminder that God is the one who gives life. If or when we try to have another baby, it will be with humility that we ask God to grant us another child.
It wasn't but a few days later that it kind of all came crashing down on me. God did give our baby life. And God chose to take it away. We weren't actually trying to get pregnant yet. And God gave us a baby that He knew would not ever be held in our arms. God chose suffering for us. And for whatever reason, that alone has me crying out to God asking Him to please not let me waste this. God knew my heart and arms would ache for this baby I'd never lay eyes on. God knew that when He knit that baby together in my womb that it would be for such a short time. But my confidence in my good God has not wavered. I love this excerpt from a book my friend gave me (Inheritance of Tears, Trusting the Lord of Life When Death Visits the Womb):
"We must choose to believe (because it is true!) that the one who went to such great lengths to prove his love for us has not made a mistake in allowing us to miscarry. Our good and loving God did not spare his Son but gave him up for us, and this same God sovereignly orchestrated the loss of our babies; we can therefore humbly trust that his painful providence is meant for and will produce our ultimate good."
So, with often tear-filled eyes I say, "God, have your way in me. For your glory and my good. Whatever that looks like."
This morning after I had my first extended time of prayer since losing this baby I started singing Keith Green's song Create In Me a Clean Heart. The more I sang it, the more I was convicted to ask God to truly restore the joy of my salvation to me. If everything else is stripped away, God rescued me from my sin and gave me the righteousness of Christ. For THAT, I can always be grateful. For THAT, I can endlessly praise the name of the Lord.
*Keenly aware of the pain and loss other women in my own life have experienced that is of far greater magnitude than what we're walking through right now. I can quickly chide myself for feeling so sad over a baby that we knew about for so short a time. But I also don't want to rush my own processing.
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