I’ve had such a burden on my heart to keep writing that I had to request a day away to gather my thoughts and rediscover all that’s weighing on me and carrying me. It feels like a daunting task at the moment because almost every day since the last time I wrote I have had some sort of a revelation or “journal germ” to write about and I just haven’t taken the time.
I guess I’ll start here:
I am currently sitting amidst a baby boom microcosm. I can count beyond both hands the friends and family members who are swiftly approaching due dates or who have just delivered sweet new bundles of joy. With it comes warring emotions. Each new life is a miracle, and my excitement for my dear ones comes with a desire to take part in that miraculous experience. Meanwhile a piece of my heart recognizes the frailty of human life, and my recently heightened awareness of the illusion of safety produces in me a reverence for the Lord and his grace, right astride with a fear of what could be. It’s similar to the respect and fear one comes to after experiencing a car wreck. This same sort of “humble disquiet” has also manifested for the well being of my husband and child. Ultimately, when these feelings creep up it sends me back to claim the reassuring arms of Jesus.
But all of these details are caught up into the one storm that still rages in my heart; a gaping loss. I [still] miss my little one. Somehow that fateful day two months ago feels like it came and went decades ago. Maybe part of what has kept me from writing is the lie I sometimes accept that I have no right to still be grieving. I have to frequently remind myself that the hole in my heart is meant to be a new and permanent feature and that my little one will always survive my memory and my love…that there now exists a new storehouse of tears, and above its door is my sweet baby’s name.
On Sunday I was visiting with a friend at church, and she told me that, having never experienced a pregnancy loss herself, she would not be prone to understand why someone would mourn for very long when they had lost a pregnancy at such an early stage. She then said that hearing my heart has reminded her how sacred and valuable a life is even at the earliest of stages. This was such a wonderful confirmation and encouragement to me that, through all of my doubts and insecurities, I must keep sharing these tears. My hope and prayer is that Jesus would speak truth and light through them and that you would be blessed.
Another thought struck me the other day: What if we found out that it was a partial molar pregnancy while the baby’s heart was still beating? We, like many people have, would need to decide whether I was to embrace the likely possibility of death in hopes of giving a future to the life inside of me (if it could survive my death) or whether I would embrace the certainty of my baby’s death in order to ensure the life of at least one of us. Although Zach reminded me that this was not our case and that we can just simply rest in the gratefulness of that, still I felt that I needed to pray and struggle through this scenario, if anything else, to understand God’s heart on the subject. I found myself re-evaluating what it meant for me to stand up for the lives of the unborn when I could not give an easy answer to this.
God allowed me to stumble through it for a while, and it definitely wasn’t a smooth terrain to navigate. A couple days later I came upon a friend at the grocery store who had also suffered a pregnancy loss. This was the second time we ran into each other by chance since my miscarriage, and before that we hadn’t seen each other in over a year (which is hard to manage in a small town like mine). So my suspicions of a divine appointment were piqued…rightly so.
Like me, she is one to appreciate a deep, meaningful conversation, even in the middle of the bread aisle of a grocery store. She shared with me some more about her journey and concluded with a reminder that Jesus laid down his life for us and that he has commanded us to also lay down our lives for our friends (John 15:13). Suddenly, that commandment, which I knew simply and all too well, took on a new and more realistic meaning to me. Our five minute conversation turned into more of a fifteen minute conversation as I excitedly told her about my recent time of re-evaluation and how I had just discovered the answer.
If I am called to lay down my life for my friends, then of course that would include my very own children. And regardless of my nation’s stance on abortion, as a believer in Christ, who am I to undermine his will for my life and the lives he creates through me (whom he loves more than I ever could)? How easily I had forgotten my God’s sovereignty! With a childlike faith, I am commanded to trust him in all my circumstances – even when there is little hope. If I claim to believe that he is who he says he is, then I must recognize that he is in control, and all I have to do is let go of the reigns. Besides, to die is gain (Philippians 1:21) because the arms of Jesus await my entrance into eternity.
Heaven is closer now than it was yesterday, and not just because I am a day older. Christ’s followers stumble around on this earth, uncomfortable in their own skin. And let me tell you, my skin has never felt so uncomfortable…as I endure (and will continue to endure) suffering, but also as I type these words which may sound like foolishness to some.
But in the midst of my discomfort, I also know that to live is Christ (Philippians 1:21), so for now I will choose to serve him and accept the grace he has to offer me through all of my fears, doubts, and insecurities. And I will cling tightly to his comfort with every fleeting thought of my little one and every extended visit to that storehouse.
My Blessing To Bear 