Pregnancy Loss: Reflections on our 3 miscarriages
I’ve so missed sharing with you, all of you (guys, you’re welcome too)! I’ve missed writing, as that is often how God helps clarify and solidify what He’s teaching me. I have not had an hour of free time (besides morning Word/prayer times and Sunday afternoons when I nap!), since early September–no exaggeration. We have been in a season of running hard, and I don’t regret a second of it. It has been rich, fruitful, difficult, and so very good.
Seasons are just that, seasons. In two weeks, when the bulk of my speaking commitments are through and Heidi’s play is over, we’re taking off for a week as a family, to rest and play together. I’m excited for that time together, but I don’t feel desperate for it. This season has been good. That season will be good. Paul said he knew how to roll with every season and be content in it, not just when it’s over. I guess that’s part of what I’m learning too.
Many of you have traveled with us on this journey of having more children. Long story short, in 2016, after a 40-day fast, through a number of confirmations and circumstances, Jeff and I both sensed God leading us to get a vasectomy reversal and have two more children. He gave us two names: Honor and Justice. I was completely caught off guard when Honor was lost. I’d never experienced miscarriage, and God used it to bring up many thing in both Jeff and me that needed to be worked through. He gave me a new girl name: Hope.
Several months later, I was pregnant again. Thrilled. This time I carried 11 weeks before learning Our Hope is in Heaven. Physically, that miscarriage was horrendous, but afterward, I felt tremendous peace. The timing just so happened that just two days later we had a beach vacation planned with our dearest friends, and I felt enveloped in a cocoon of love, prayer, grace, not to mention amazing meals and tons of relaxation. There was grief, but it was like falling into a fluffy friendship cloud of comfort.
In Scripture, especially in the OT, we often see names having great significance, often related to the spiritual state of the parents’ hearts, or what was going on in the culture at large. I never experienced any of this sort of significance with our older children, but for whatever reason, this time around names have been very significant. Also, each miscarried child has had a name.
The day I miscarried with Hope, we had our church’s prayer meeting that night–so clearly I heard “Hallelujah.” I wrote the name across the top of my journal page, then jotting down “Halle” (rhymes with Sally) for short.
I loved that name, and was so excited. I thought she would be born next. A few months later I became pregnant, and two trusted friends separate shared a dream/vision that I was having a boy. And I was:
Justice.
Our amazing, chubby bundle of smiles, Justice has forever changed our lives. His late arrival and delivery brought its own series of lessons (Wasted work; Joy; Psalm 131, Preparations; Delivery). We can’t imagine our lives without him.
He was worth the wait.
So you can imagine our joy when, this September, I found out I was pregnant again. Yes! I had hoped to have baby #2 before I turned 40, and this would make my delivery date just a couple weeks before that date. I started praying for little Halle, our little bean-sized baby.
I did kind of wonder what this journey would entail. Last spring, I had two friends separately share the song, “Nothing can take my Hallelujah” with me. I thought, perhaps, difficult circumstances would surround her birth. I thought the physical birth of “Praise Yahweh” would represent joy in the midst of difficulty.
My midwife scheduled an ultrasound at 7 weeks to see how everything looked. We hadn’t told the kids yet, wanting to wait until everything looked good, so I sneaked in an ultrasound while Heidi was at theater practice and Jeff was with the boys.
It showed baby measuring 5.5 weeks, with no heartbeat. My heart sank.
BUT. Both the technician and my midwife were convinced everything was fine. Often dating can be off, and everything looked good otherwise, so they figured it was slightly too early for heartbeat, so we’d “just wait” and see in a week or two.
While in the office, I thought I was fine. But as soon as I got in my car, a torrent of emotion came. I sobbed to God,
“I cannot do this again. I cannot keep having my heart torn apart.”
I begged him to please let this baby live.
Part of what was overwhelming was the fact that I had eleven speaking engagements this fall, including 5 straight weekends of traveling, giving 20+ messages, plus Heidi’s theater schedule of 3 days/week and a solid week of working backstage for dress-rehearsals plus working eight shows. I had already felt overwhelmed by how to navigate all the commitments.
And now I had to “just wait” to see if the baby inside me was dead or alive? We hadn’t shared about the pregnancy. Our kids didn’t know, families didn’t know. It felt strangely lonely to just keep going along as usual, not knowing whether I carried life or death. That evening, after my ultrasound, a friend and I were hosting a baby shower. It was the last thing I wanted to do, honestly. I was exhausted from crying and my flesh so wanted to just be home and be sad all by myself. But so clearly I knew God was saying, Set yourself aside for the sake of serving others.
But it’s so HARD to set ourselves aside. It takes dying! And there’s nothing more clear in Scripture:
“In humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”
Phil. 2:3-4
Every Christlike act of love takes the willingness to set ourselves aside for the sake of serving others. This is the very essence of what Jesus did, and that He calls us to do.
It takes humbling ourselves to prioritize others’ needs above our feelings. Philippians 2:5-8 says this is exactly what Jesus did.
The next weekend, I was flying to Colorado to speak at a conference. I was nervous about flying, but once again, knew God’s will was clear: Trust Me. It would take me trusting Him with my body, my heart, my emotions. I was still very sick with morning sickness, so it was a tiring trip, but the ladies were amazing and I could SEE God be strong as I felt so weak. It felt good to focus on others and get the joy of seeing God move.
On my flight home, as I sat exhausted with my hand resting on my belly, praying, I heard the young guy next to me telling the person next to him how grateful he was that his girlfriend was able to get an abortion for $75 instead of $400.
Tears silently slipped down my cheek. For him. For this broken world. For all that’s just so wrong. For the babies unwanted and the babies so desperately wanted and the incongruity of it all and knowing this is only a drop in the ocean of sorrow that is a reality in our world. And knowing the Father can and will sort it all out but the meantime…
We groan inwardly as we wait eagerly…
Rom. 8:21-23
And I whispered into the darkness, “Sort it out, God. Please. Sort it out.”
{Time to get back to my kiddos; I’ll write more soon}
Why is it so hard to trust the process?
Hello, friends! I’m sorry I haven’t been writing much around here lately. We’re in a busy season, but I do have a story of God’s faithfulness to share with you soon. Hoping to write about it tonight. For today, I wanted to pass along this praise, of how good God has been to us as we journey through the homeschool process. Even if you don’t homeschool, there are so many ways that it’s JUST SO HARD to trust the process, to be patient, to wait, to stay the course. I hope this can be encouraging to you. More soon… Thanks for reading. Read the rest over at Simple Homeschool…
Wins that look like losses
Even now, though I don’t know his name, my eyes fill with tears thinking of him. He doesn’t know that he gained himself a prayer warrior last night.
Sixty-seven youth, aged 8-18 filed into the building for auditions for the Christian Youth Theater’s upcoming performance of Mary Poppins. Widely varying abilities, all shapes and sizes, each one would take his or her turn on stage, all alone, standing on the X in front of the six artistic judges. Each one would sing, some would say a few lines.
All would show tremendous courage.
This was my first experience watching youth auditions, and my eyes welled up with tears more than once. I was so incredibly inspired by the courage each kid demonstrated and truly stunned by the level of talent displayed. These kids can SING! One girl sang I Have Confidence from The Sound of Music and it sounded straight-up Julie Andrews–amazing!
But the very best auditioner of the whole night, the one who brought me to full-tears, the one who showed the most valiant display of courage that maybe I have ever witnessed, the biggest win of the night…
…was a little boy who never even made it to the song.
As he stood up I could barely even see his head, he was very small. Within seconds, as he made his way toward the front, we could all see his state. His dark head bowed low, eyes straight down at his feet, shoulders hunched over. His dark-skinned arms folded tightly in on his chest, his hands wringing back in forth in obvious agitation.
We held our breath. I leaned forward in my seat. Everything in me came alive in attention. Come on, champ. You can do this.
He shuffled his way to the front, he tried to look up at the judges. He tried to remember what to say.
The coordinator smiled kindly and offered, “What’s your name?” He mumbled something no one could hear. She smiled. “Great. What song are you singing?” He mumbled something else no one could hear.
I leaned forward and smiled, fighting back tears, desperately trying to impart some trace of courage into his precious soul.
It was silent.
His fear was palpable.
And then the music began.
Wild panic filled his eyes. I swallowed hard. Please, Jesus. Please.
He stood, stricken, for a few agonizing moments.
And then he fled, in a dead run, off the stage.
We all exhaled.
Oh God. I wanted to leap from my seat and run and find him and swoop him up and hide him in my arms. I wanted to somehow impart to his soul that he is precious. That he was the most brave person of the whole night. That the God of the Universe was so incredibly proud of him and that he had value and worth and he was a PRIZE. That he was a STAR.
The audience applauded, just as we did for every performer. Oh Jesus let him know the applause of heaven. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him in the back, tucked into the arms of his light-skinned Mama. I thanked God for her, I wanted to hold HER, as I knew she probably needed to curl up onto someone’s arms just as much as he did.
She showed as much courage as anyone. A little later I saw her slip quietly out the back door, holding her sweet boy’s hand. Oh Jesus please bless her.
The rest of the night went smoothly. As the girls and I got into our car, we talked about that little boy, how he was the most brave of all. On the drive home, we prayed over him.
I prayed that he would grow to be a mighty man of God, that God would do astounding things in his life and that someday he would look back at this day, the day that felt like a fail, and he would know that it was a WIN. That just going up on that stage was a death-blow to the enemy of fear, and just because he didn’t make it to the song, IT WAS STILL A WIN.
Oh friend–Do you know this? Do you know that just the fact that you are doing [fill in the blank], that is a WIN? EVERY step of obedience, EVERY courageous act, EVERY time you say yes to Jesus and you do that thing that scares you half to death, that is a win! Even if you run off stage at the last minute. Even if you end up in a puddle of tears. May you hear the applause of heaven!
And, may we have compassion enough to recognize that what may be easy for us may take tremendous courage for those around us. May we set aside our preoccupation with strength, beauty, success, achievement, and celebrate the quiet courage that it sometime takes to just show up.
Cheering for you. Thanks for reading.
The surprising path to rest
Ouch. That stings. I can usually tell I’m hurt by someone or something because I inwardly begin a monologue about why I’m justified in feeling how I do, how I would explain to someone else why this was so hurtful, or I would begin mentally drafting a message to the person explaining why what they did was wrong, etc.
In a word, I protest.
Thankfully, I’m (slowly) learning a better way. I sat down with the Word, the only Truth, the Anchor, and slipped into quiet conversation with my Heavenly Father, and asked Him to help me see the situation through His eyes, not mine.
Mine are often so desperately clouded by pride and immaturity.
My eye fell to my passage for the day, beginning in Psalm 94:
Blessed is the man whom you discipline, O LORD, and whom you teach out of your law, to give him rest from days of trouble, until a pit is dug for the wicked.
Ps. 94:12
Ah, yes. That’s the truth of it, right? We get stuck on the details of the situation, forgetting that God’s gracious hand is over all and in all and through all.
Discipline. It comes in the form of stings.
I had a smile. Of course I’m back in the days of toddler-training, and I’m rediscovering all over again how my Father trains me.
Justice, of course, is a constant joy in our lives. He’s our miracle baby and we can’t imagine life without him. He’s also SO VERY BUSY. Just this morning he played a fun game breaking eggs all over the floor. Well, back in June I had an eye-opening experience where I realized I’d really been slacking in disciplining him. One day he was climbing up the fireplace (again) and I was too busy to discipline him, and Heidi said,
“It’s only going to get harder to train him if you wait.”
I knew she was right. The truth was, it was unloving of me to allow Justice to behave in ways that I’d only have to later discipline him for. Almost like it was deceiving. My actions were saying, “This is fine today, but tomorrow it won’t be.” I knew what I needed to do.
So I set aside three days for training. With my bright-pink little lightweight ruler (weighs .5 ounce!) I spent every waking moment near Justice. We went through all the various activities we always do, and with my little ruler-flick on his thigh (just enough for a little sting), I taught him the new normal–what things are okay and what things are not. Some things took a long time, I let him play with a marble but gave him a flick if he put it in his mouth (I want to make sure he’s safe around small objects). It took about ten flicks before he finally figured it out, but then he never put it in his mouth again! The kids sat there and played marbles with him and he happily played along and never put it in his mouth.
When he would obey, I’d cheer and hug him and he was obviously SO pleased. It really was only about 1.5 hours total of nonstop training, and then just the sight of the ruler and my word no and he would obey.
The biggest thing I noticed was how much HAPPIER he was. It was like his spirit settled because he finally knew what he was supposed to do to please his mama.
Now, obviously I have to continue this, especially in new situations, or as he gains new physical abilities, the process of learning obedience will be lifelong, but I just felt like it was such a picture for me with my Father.
In your struggle against sin, you have not yet resisted to the point of shedding your blood. And have you completely forgotten this word of encouragement that addresses you as a father addresses his son? It says,“My son, do not make light of the Lord’s discipline, and do not lose heart when he rebukes you,because the Lord disciplines the one he loves, and he chastens everyone he accepts as his son.” Endure hardship as discipline; God is treating you as his children. For what children are not disciplined by their father? If you are not disciplined—and everyone undergoes discipline—then you are not legitimate, not true sons and daughters at all. Moreover, we have all had human fathers who disciplined us and we respected them for it. How much more should we submit to the Father of spirits and live! They disciplined us for a little while as they thought best; but God disciplines us for our good, in order that we may share in his holiness. No discipline seems pleasant at the time, but painful. Later on, however, it produces a harvest of righteousness and peace for those who have been trained by it.
Hebrews 12:4-11
I had never noticed how it specifically says, “Endure hardship AS discipline.” Now, obviously the source of our hardship can be a lot of different things (physical suffering, offenses from others, emotional struggles) but in terms of how we RESPOND to it, we are to respond to it AS DISCIPLINE. That is, I can accept that this hardship is helping me to know more clearly how I can please my Father. It’s training! And even though “no discipline seems pleasant” (there’s a sting!) I also see how much HAPPIER Justice is after being trained, and I know the same is true for me. Even though it’s painful, it’s cleansing. Scriptures says,
Blows that wound cleanse away evil; strokes make clean the innermost parts.
Prov. 20:30
So does this have to do with rest?
Often we think that we can’t really train our children because if we really disciplined for every misbehavior then we’d be discipling all day. Well, yes and no. The truth is, YES, it will take all day for ONE DAY. Or maybe 2-3. But 2-3 days of consistent training works wonders in a small child, and the truth is–in the long run you will be REST.
See, we so often get it backwards. We’re too tired to discipline, it’s too exhausting. We need rest. So we don’t train, and then we end up exhausted because our children are whiny, wild, rude, annoying us to no end.
I wrote the following verse on the back of my little pink ruler so it would remind me of the truth:
Discipline your son, and he will give you rest; he will give delight to your heart.
Prov. 29:17
The truth is, if I put in the work now, in the long-run it will bring rest and delight to my soul. AND, as Psalm 94 says, when we are the recipients of discipline, it will also ultimately give us rest. We will have rest in the mist of “days of trouble” — when the world is crazy and full of turmoil, our hearts will have rest because we’ve allowed God to discipline us.
We find true rest not by avoiding the hard stuff. By doing the hard work of discipline–both giving and receiving–we ultimately get the reward of entering into true soul-rest and delight.
If you are in the midst of disciplining, or of receiving a sting of discipline, hang in there! It will bear the fruit of rest in your life! Thanks for reading.