Renewed
Two nights ago, the
bleeding resumed. I felt as though someone had punched me in the stomach. I
thought I was through this…
This time, instead of
stopping, the bleeding has continued. My emotions caught me off guard. First,
there was crushing disappointment, but it was soon replaced by a kind of
numbness. There was even some twisted sense of relief there for a while, I think
stemming from the fact that I’m growing weary of the guessing game, and
increased bleeding, however undesired, at least makes sense.
The sadness, true
sadness, didn’t find me until this morning after Brian and the girls had left
for church. I was sitting on my bed, letting a million different thoughts drift
aimlessly through my head, when one thought, in particular stood out.
“What if you could have prayed this baby into
being if your faith wasn’t so weak? What if the real reason this is turning
south is because you weren’t diligent enough in prayer, didn’t believe enough
that God could and would heal you and preserve your baby? What if God stood
waiting for you to partner with Him in this, and you never showed. You never
showed.”
Miscarriage is common. I
know that. Lots of women with lion-fierce faith have lost babies. I know that.
It doesn’t ease the nagging sense that I have failed, though. I don’t believe
that God has failed for a moment. I
don’t doubt His love. I don’t doubt His promises. I am even grateful for the
way in which my family has been supported, I have been supported. I see
grace—unmerited favor—falling upon me even as my hopes of a third baby are
crashing down around me.
My face is a mess of
imperfections and tears as I type this. My nose is stuffy. My hair’s thrown
back in a wild, tangled knot. And I feel practically paralyzed.
Jesus, what do you want me to say? What am I
supposed to do?
And then, true to form, I
want to curl up, cover up, and fall asleep. I’ve never been much of a fighter.
Perseverance has not been a quality I can naturally claim. And the guilt of it
all nearly overwhelms me.
This is
where I was a few hours ago. Yuck. Far from the stoic and serene reactions to
this whole mess that I’ve been trying to condition myself to have.
And then, as I sought Jesus, some of that heaviness, that guilt,
started to melt away. I say some, because I’d be lying if I said all of it did.
It wasn’t until after I spent nearly an hour on the phone
with my sister this evening that hope resurfaced. And it wasn’t just hope that
this baby may still end up in my arms here on earth. Although that light still
flickers, more than that, my hope that God won’t leave me as a failure or
condemn me for my weakness returned. Rachel and I talked about how God desires
to draw people to himself, and while he does correct us, he isn’t in the
business of dragging his children to the verge of despair to prove a point. She
encouraged me to take thoughts like the one that haunted me this morning and
hold them up to God’s light.
Once she pointed this out, it seemed painfully obvious that
what was breaking my heart this morning was not a God thing. But in the midst
of it… Man.
I loved my sister’s simple choice of words that slashed
through some of the religious jargon we so often toss about and got right down
to a point that makes universal sense:
“I mean really, Lace, who would want to hang out with a God
that’s mean?”
Faith on the surface, it’s true, can be fragile. But I was
reminded and reaffirmed that deep down, I have never ceased to understand that this
little life I carry has always been more God’s than mine. God alone knows the
number of this baby’s days and the purpose of his/her life. God alone knows how
this will play out in the grand scheme of my life. It may not be the way I want
it to be. I know that. But that doesn’t mean that all hope is lost or that the
outcome of this pregnancy is somehow a punishment or reward that hinges on my
every thought and action.
My world isn’t sunshine and rainbows right now; I won’t
pretend that it is. Yes, I am hurting. But, peace is renewed within me, and I
feel incredibly loved. Instead of condemning thoughts and worry occupying my
every free thought, truth is allowing me to praise God in the midst of this
storm with a joy that rises up in spite of trouble.
“Rejoice in our confident hope. Be patient in trouble, and
keep on praying.”
Romans 12:12 NLT
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