Safe in the Arms of Jesus

Today I would've been thirteen weeks pregnant. The end of that dreaded first trimester. Why dreaded, you might ask? Dreaded because all I know within those first thirteen weeks is fear and loss. So, I pray and I wait. I keep it secret, for I can't bear celebrating too soon. It's too risky. I must stay calm. I must protect myself and keep my hopes at bay. I hope for the best, but expect the worst. This is all I know of the first trimester. This is all I know of pregnancy.

I grasp tightly to any symptom or sign my body might give to prove that I truly am pregnant. Any relief from these symptoms scare me. I pray that God would make me feel sick again. I worry and I wonder. I hold on desperately to my sanity and my faith. As waves of nausea and exhaustion take over, I am at peace. I relish in the fact that I get to eat saltines and sip on ginger ale. I proudly endure days of headaches without complaint in order to ween myself off caffeine. I embrace being the designated driver, and cheerfully turn down that glass of wine. After all, I'm pregnant! What a blessing! What a gift! What a miracle! And I grasp tightly to this this dream. This dream that has turned turned into reality. And I do not want to let go.

Today, we would've announced to the world that it was finally our turn. It was finally our turn to be the beaming parents to be. It was finally our turn to receive the "ohhs" and "ahhs"  and "congratulations!". It was finally our turn to be dancing instead of mourning and rejoicing instead of grieving.

 

Instead, I share with you, my dear friends and family, that we have yet again lost another sweet and precious baby. It all seems so surreal. Is this really happening again? My eyes close slowly and I take a deep breath. Another dream has evolved into a nightmare. More pieces of my heart is broken. Can it be?

You can hear the pain and agony in King David's words at the beginning of Psalm 13:

How long, Lord? Will you forget me forever?
    How long will you hide your face from me?

How long must I wrestle with my thoughts
    and day after day have sorrow in my heart?

My soul ponders these words. I empathize with David. Another version says "How long must I endure trouble? How long will sorrow fill my heart day and night?" {I am perplexed at those who say God's Word is irrelevant to them. How can you get more real with your pain than this?} I wonder if I will ever see my belly grow or know the sweet pains of labor. I wonder. And I ask God, why? After all, I was doing just fine with my infertility. I was at peace, I was learning to be content. And then, when I least expected it, I get pregnant! Surely this miracle was from you, God! Surely You saw fit that we were ready to be parents and blessed us with this "miracle baby". Why else would you give this to us, unexpectedly {we were taking a break from fertility treatments}, only to take it away? I do not understand, Lord. And I am struggling. I am upset that I have to grieve all over again. Grieving is painful and exhausting. I am told this is necessary. And I know deep down grieving is healthy, but it hurts. I just want it to go away. I want to hide and live in ignorant bliss. I don't want to think that I now have two babies waiting for me in heaven, rather than here on earth where I can love them and hold them.

This past Sunday in church as we were singing, my heart heard the Holy Spirit whisper, "your babies are safe in the arms of Jesus." And I believed it with my whole heart. My soul felt comforted as tears began to fill up my eyes. I was recently reminded by a friend to not focus so much on the actions of God, but rather the character of God. We may never understand or know the answers to our "whys", but I know that God loves me and promises to never leave me. And that is something I can hold onto wholeheartedly. 

 

image via Pinterest

Even though I have never met my babies, I miss them so much. To think if my pregnancies had gone well and that I would be a mom to two is hard to wrap my mind around. All I can do is wait and wonder. To Whom It May Concern by The Civil Wars has touched my heart recently. I realize the context of the lyrics is referring to a person longing for and missing a future soul mate. But these lyrics....it's hard for me to not think of my lost babies. It's a beautiful song.

"Why are you so far from me?...In my arms is where you are to be....How long will you make me wait?...I don't know how much more I can take...I missed you but I haven't met you."

Four weeks ago we walked into the ultrasound room anxious and excited. I would've been nine weeks. I remember it was as though you could hear a pin drop right before the ultrasound technician told us she could not detect a heart beat. Our baby had stopped growing a couple of days prior. She said she was so sorry and left the room to allow us to soak in the bad news. I almost felt like I could laugh. Laugh out in disbelief. Of course the laughing didn't come. I cried and I cried. Steve wrapped his arms around me as my heart metaphorically shook its clenched fist up at God. I remember thinking as the tears flowed, "you've got to be kidding me!" and "this can't be happening again?!". We were in shock. And our hearts broke and we held onto each tighter than ever.

Dear friends, I covet your prayers. Our faith is weak, but our Savior is strong. And so we take one day at a time. We do our best to focus on the good, on the blessings. He has blessed us with so much. It's funny how during the trials is sometimes when its easiest to see the blessings. I was reminded once again how blessed I am to have Steve by my side. I know many days I take him for granted. I thank God we have each other to endure this process of grieving and waiting together. Although my heart is torn and tattered, it is bursting with joy and love for my marriage and my dear husband. And so we walk side by side, hand in hand, doing our best to keep our eyes focused on Jesus.

 

The end of Psalm 13 goes like this...

But I trust in your unfailing love;
    my heart rejoices in your salvation.
I will sing the Lord’s praise,
    for he has been good to me.