Drawing Moments...

A friend's recent loss has left me compelled to write about the most difficult trial I have ever walked through.  6 years ago, Ben and I were expecting our fifth baby.  Having had 4 uneventful pregnancies, I expected this one to be no different.  We were full of excitement, hope and love for this new little one.  She was to be greeted by 3 sisters and 1 brother, all of whom loved her and could not wait for the months to pass so she would be with us.  This baby was very real and very much a part of our lives, even though she was still months away from us being able to touch her and hold her.  I had been sicker with this pregnancy than my others, but I was also older.  I didn't think much of it.  I was 18 weeks along, and was certain I had felt movement.  Having heard the heartbeat at 10 weeks, I had no reason to believe anything was wrong.  I went to see my doctor for a regular appointment, and since Ben was in California leaving me with no babysitters, I had 3 of the children with me.  That appointment led to a whirlwind of activity and devastating emotions.  Measurements, weight, blood pressure...all fine.  Doppler...not fine.  The nurse tried unsuccessfully to find the heartbeat.  Then the doctor.  Then the portable ultrasound machine confirms every pregnant woman's nightmare "There is no heartbeat."  What do you mean "no heartbeat" my own heart cried.  Of course there is a heartbeat...right next to mine!  I have loved and cared for this baby.  I have been careful, I have cut down caffeine, been drinking water, increased protein, taken my vitamins.  I have had 4 healthy pregnancies and no miscarriages.  HOW CAN THERE BE NO HEARTBEAT?  Coupled with the confused looks of three young children, ages 9, 8 and 5, it was all I could do to get out of the doctor's office without complete hysteria.  I do not remember leaving...I do remember the car being so low on fuel that in the midst of this horrible pain, I had to go to the gas station and from there began trying to call Ben.  Even now, I can still hear my voice gasping for breath as I sobbed the words "They couldn't find a heartbeat."  Home.  Calming my children.  Finding myself surrounded by this circle of friends who have been there for me always, none of them knowing what to say, but more than willing to cry with me.  Finally, Ben arrives home the next morning.  We pray for a miracle, but it doesn't come.  A more detailed ultrasound confirms that our baby was a little girl, and that while all appeared perfect, her little heart had stopped beating at some point around 16 weeks.  The next few days and weeks remain the most horrible I have ever known.  For weeks, maybe months, I would wake up in a panic, my heart crying out for the baby I had lost.  Ben was patient and loving, never critical, never telling me to move on.  He was in pain because I was in pain, but he didn't fully understand.  My biggest fear was that I would walk through all of this and still miss what God was trying to tell me.


Miscarriage is something that a woman must walk through alone.  It is painful and difficult.  Husbands love us, but do not really understand what we are going through.  A friend who has had a miscarriage or stillbirth may certainly relate to your pain, but since everyone's grief is different, it is still a lonely place.  The most lonely place, I believe.  It is in this place that we must rest in God's sovereignty.  KNOW it is HE that has made us, and HE made that little one, too.  He loves us and sheds tears for us in our pain.  It is a journey of reflection and evaluation, and we need to rest in Christ so that we may hear the message that God has for us.  Don't think that I walked through this with grace, because I didn't.  I was frustrated and angry.  I was mad at God and questioned what I could have done differently.  I am just thankful that I did not rest in THAT place, but rather in the one of God's love for me.  Had I chosen to be angry, bitter, and continually mourn, I would be a different person than I am today.  I chose to seek out what God wanted to teach me. I needed to know why God was drawing me close and what He was going to whisper in my ear.


For me, the message was CHERISH.  There may be more to it as I grow older and have opportunities to minister to others, but for now, this is my note from God.  I am a busy mom.  I am easily distracted.  Treasuring my children needs to be a priority!  For now, the most important thing that I can do is to bring them up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord.  To be distracted by "stuff" is certainly not what God wants for me.  This experience taught me to cherish my moments with my children.  


I found out I was pregnant on what would have been the due date for our baby.  I had mixed emotions of fear and joy.  Our joy was complete when Emmett arrived September 10, 2005, right at a year after our miscarriage.  He is a precious delight and adored by his siblings.  They lived with a mixture of fear and excitement, as I did throughout my pregnancy, that Emmett would not make it to meet us face to face.  The first year of Emmett's life, I told him every day "I'm so glad you are here."  I never took his birth, babyhood or very presence forgranted.  I marvel even now.  Birth is such a miracle.  Such wondrous development takes place in utero...so many things happening so fast and so many that can go wrong!  It is an amazement and wonder that any of our children are here.  What a gift from God!   


There is only one thing that can ease the pain of a miscarriage along with resting in Christ, and that is time.  6 years have passed, and while I can recall the pain, I no longer mourn our baby.  She is a point on our timeline, an important period that shaped the lives of myself and my children.  She will never be forgotten and is forever remembered as "the baby we lost."  I am thankful she is not truly lost, but FOUND.  Found to be in heaven with Jesus, resting with Him. Thankful that one day I will truly meet her.  


Miscarriage is not for the faint of heart.  I do know that walking through it made me a different, better person.  I would not wish it on anyone, but recognize the blessings that have come from my grief.  So if you have a friend walking this lonely road, do not try to fix them.  Respect their grief.  Pray for them.  Cry with them.  Know that in Christ, they will come through it as refined silver, with character that only deep pain can give.  If you are walking through this pain yourself, know that time will heal the rawness of the wound, but that baby that you lost will forever be a part of who you are.  Embracing that and remembering that God is SOVEREIGN will allow your heart to heal.