After successfully going off my anti-depressant medication,
my husband and I discerned we should try to have children.
In those times of discernment, I realized that I was never
going to be perfect. We shouldn’t wait until
we’re perfect to start having kids or to start living life for that matter. No one will ever be perfect in this life –
God’s grace is sufficient.
In stark contrast to the year before when I felt like I’d
never be able to handle having children because of the depression, I really
felt peaceful with this big life decision.
Taking on the new role of motherhood felt as comfortable as the
sweatshirts I don on a regular basis. Because
of this peace, I felt certain this next step was meant to be – it was what God wanted for us – I just knew it!
Yet, the journey is not as easy for me as it seems to be for
so many of my friends and family members.
The road is difficult and I’ve had to learn new meanings of the words
“patience” and “purpose”.
Sadly, I’ve had two miscarriages. Each baby only lived about seven weeks. Both times, we found out by going in for our
first doctor visit and ultrasound. Both
times, the doctor could not find a heartbeat.
The experience has taken my pro-life stance to a new
level. If I am really Pro-Life, I must
acknowledge the two children that lived in my womb, even if it was only for a
short time. I must acknowledge that they
are real human persons each with their own soul, gender, destiny, and capacity
for greatness. And I must allow myself
to grieve for the deaths, the tiny lives that were so abruptly cut short.
Even though they were early, first trimester miscarriages, I
still got attached, I still gave them names, and I still consider myself a mom –
I have two children. If I don’t do this, then how could I call
myself Pro-Life?
I hesitate to publish our losses on this blog. The experience was something very sacred. The lives of those two little ones are very important to me. I am afraid of losing that specialness by having my words fall on non-understanding ears.
On the other hand, however, this experience has majorly
affected my life. It has greatly
influenced who I am as a wife, a friend, a sister, a daughter, and a human
being. It has been hard to write about anything else.
When people hear about miscarriages, they tend to sympathize
to be nice or empathize if they’ve been there too. I know they are doing nothing besides trying
to be helpful, positive, and encouraging.
But people often say things like, “It was God’s will”, which might be comforting
but also confusing. And words like, “At
least you know you can get pregnant…” are not helpful either. Yeah, so, my womb is capable of conceiving
but it is also capable of killing?
Please don’t remind me. When all
is said and done, my arms are still empty and my eyes brimming with tears.
The hard truth is – miscarriages are a tragedy. An innocent life taken from the world who
will never get to laugh, breathe in fresh air, watch a sunset, learn to walk,
say it’s parents names, get married, or have children of their own. Death is not
a natural part of life, whenever it happens…8 weeks, 18 years, or 80 years. God did not create us to die – He created us
for eternal life.
Mysteriously, God’s accomplishes His will always. But He does not directly intend for miscarriages to happen – just as He does not intend for
abortion to happen.
A miscarriage is not God’s will. It’s sad, unfortunate, and an evil that
resulted from original sin. God desires
all of His children to be baptized and to get to Heaven. He only permits
bad things like this to happen so that a greater good can come from it. The only reason evil persists is because God
allows it to happen. God is not some
sadistic, twisted miser up in Heaven specifically preparing bad things to
happen to people, then laughing a satisfied laugh when we stumble and fall. No, God is a loving God who wants nothing but
the best for each of His children.
Instead of chalking it up to part of a sad plan for my life,
I think it’s better to grieve for those two precious souls and pray that God
will bring some good from this heartbreak.
God is grieving along side of me, and, someday, He will rejoice with me
as well.
I trust in God’s mercy and that He will bring good out of this evil.
However, I would not be honest if I didn’t say that these two
miscarriages have left me with unanswerable questions. Did I not pray enough? Did I not want this bad enough? Did I drink too much coffee? Or did I exercise
too much? Did I eat the wrong
things? Did I mess up my body through my
eating disorder? What if we didn’t
discern correctly? What did I do wrong?
Maybe God knows that I won’t be able to handle having
children. Maybe I’m not mentally or
emotional stable enough to handle the burdens and responsibilities of
parenting. Maybe this is the only way I
could ever be a (biological) mom.
Discouragement and despair are not from God. So as I experience these challenging
emotions, I am trying to remember that Our God is the God of Hope. He would not
want me to give in or give up so easily.
We have a framed pictured of us on our wedding day and below
the picture reads an encouraging phrase.
I never noticed it before, or never really thought about its meaning
until now. However, I saw it the other
day and it struck me:
“Delight yourself in
the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.” (Psalm 37:4)
I didn’t know how much these words would mean to us when I put our picture in that frame. But reading them now gives me comfort. God knew we would have this struggle before we were even married. He knows our miscarriages are a tragedy. He is grieving right alongside of us.
It might feel like, at times, God gives us more than we can
handle, but, I believe, it’s only to show us that we can do nothing on our own
but everything through Him.
If I stay close to God, He will give me the desires of my
heart. After all, I am His beloved
daughter.
Thank you, thank you, thank you for writing this, Mary.
ReplyDelete:) Thank you for your words the other day...about God choosing me and no one else to be the mother of this child. I return to it often.
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