Pregnancy Loss and a gracious God

 

He makes the barren woman to keep house and to be a joyful mother of children. Psalm 113:9

A week ago, this verse would have made me angry. But as I slowly begin to heal after a miscarriage, I am finding comfort in that precious verse.

This was my third pregnancy loss. Twice within our first year of marriage, my husband and I experienced this sorrow. It was heartbreaking. But we recovered as best we could. Finally, after almost a year of trying, I conceived again. We were so thrilled. We got in to see the OB doctor very early and I was closely monitored. All seemed fine. We got to see our little bean’s heart beating fast at just 5 and a half weeks on Dec. 22. (That was a joy we had not experienced with our other pregnancies which both ended before a heartbeat was detected.) Though I struggled with nausea and fatigue, I rejoiced at these symptoms of what I hoped was a healthy pregnancy.

On January 12, I had another ultrasound. I was about 8 and a half weeks along. The technician was so quiet. I am not an expert on reading ultrasounds, but I sensed something was wrong. She measured the fetus, my baby. She checked again. Finally, in a quiet, tense voice, she spoke. “I’m not getting a heartbeat. And the fetus is far too small. And I should be seeing blood flow, but I'm not."

She left the room to inform the nurse practitioner on duty. I slid off the table and turned to my husband. It was a moment of indescribable shock and pain. Somehow, the tears stayed at bay in the next several minutes. We met with the nurse practitioner who told us our options: we could wait and let nature take its course, or have a procedure called a D&C to remove the fetal tissue and placenta from my womb. Still in shock, I opted to wait at least at that point. We left. I broke down in the elevator. I sobbed as we walked past people in the hallway. I couldn’t stop the flood of tears.

I don’t remember much about the next few days. A blur of tears, fears, decisions. We went back on Friday for another ultrasound. I had to be sure. I couldn’t live with myself if I was wrong. But we weren’t. There was no sign of life. And so, I decided to have a D&C the following Wednesday. In the meantime, I had a few symptoms of a miscarriage which told me the ultrasounds were indeed correct.

I was relieved to get it over with that Wednesday morning. But I was also nervous as I kissed Matt goodbye as they wheeled me to the OR...

Next thing I knew though, I was awake. The hospital staff was so kind. I was cared for so well. A bit high on pain meds, I felt no emotional  or physical pain as I waited in a recovery room for a few hours, sipping on Sprite or dozing off. Finally, the kind nurse helped me walk to the side entrance where Matt was waiting with the car. She wrapped a warm blanket around me and gently praised my good husband as I shuffled to the door. I agreed with her assessment. “Yes, he treats me so well” I said. She insisted I keep the blanket.

I spent the next couple days recovering physically. I did nothing but watch Netflix, eat, and sleep. I was in quite a bit of pain from a medicine the doctor prescribed. I  tried to relax with a heating pad on my tummy. Friends brought food, sent cards, and texted me. My mom came over and just sat with me for hours. My brothers dropped off a brownie mix. (They know me well!) I tried to go out on Saturday for the first time since the surgery. I was exhausted after just a trip to the gas station. So we went back home.

Although I woke up feeling better on Sunday morning, I chose to stay home from church. My darling husband got ready to go preach and I told him I’d be praying for him. I stayed in bed almost the entire morning watching “The Bible” miniseries on Netflix.  As the suffering of Sarah played on the screen, I felt her pain and understood her desire to give her husband a child at any cost, only to experience the bitter jealousy that accompanied her unwise plot. Then, later, I saw the agony of God’s people in Egypt under the cruelty of Pharaoh, seemingly forgotten by their God. I understood what it was to feel forsaken and unloved. I wondered again for the thousandth time why God chose to hide his Face for so long at times (in their case, hundreds of years).

A comforting thought slowly formed in my mind that Sunday morning. Suffering knows no boundaries. It touches everyone. Even followers of God. God permits it although it was not part of His original design. Which brings me back to the verse at the beginning. God makes the barren woman to keep house and be a joyful mother of children. God creates life. He placed our unborn children within the womb. But did he also cause them to die? I cannot reconcile that thought with what I know about God. I believe God is Sovereign. And so I believe He allows and uses even the worst evil for His purposes and for the good of His children. But I do not believe He causes evil. When we saw no heartbeat, God was not the one causing that death; he was the One sustaining us in that painful moment, and in all the painful moments to come. He is the Giver of life, the Creator of blessings: filling a barren woman's home with the laughter of children.

So, I am a grieving woman, but not without hope. Even if I never cradle a child in my arms, I believe that God is for me. I will trust in this good God. Though at first I struggled to pray and could barely comprehend that God loved me, I know He never left my side. His heart was filled with compassion. I don’t understand why He didn’t intervene and keep my baby alive. But I do know that He holds my baby-all three of my babies- in His loving arms.

It is Winter. Snow lies cold and icy all around. My heart too has felt the numbing effects of Winter within my soul. But Winter comes before Spring.  And we wait. Pray. Grieve. Laugh again. Cry. Live. I find myself singing again. My heart aches at times till I can hardly breathe. But my heart is also healing, finding joy again and beginning to hope again.  I don't know when Spring will come for me. But I know the Giver of Life. And He says, "Weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning."