What God Taught Me Through My Miscarriage

I typed and deleted, typed and deleted again. Where do I begin with this word God placed in my heart? Before pinning, I’d already contemplated “the when” God wanted me to share it. Should I wait till I receive the promise as hoped? After all, that would be less vulnerable. God revealed I want them to know it is greater than anything they can do or receive.

Yes, faith without works. Yes, pray without ceasing. Yes, we have a role to play, but what about the times where our faith is nonexistent, and the pain is so deep that nothing in the world can alleviate it?

And, if it can, you have to endure the grueling process of healing: the bleeding, the scabbing, the peeling, the discoloration, and then the scar. It is essential to the purpose, and my purpose to talk about it now when I am somewhere in between the scabbing and the peeling.
So, here I am.

I have dealt with the “possibility” of infertility since I was a teen and the doctor told me my terrible cycles were due to endometriosis. In my early twenties, I discovered after seeing a specialist it was fibroids and lots of them. I had surgery to remove a few. It was my way of preparing my body for the babies God promised. The doctors explained it was paramount I had children soon because my window of fertility was smaller than women with no issues. I was okay with that. My only reservation was I had not met my husband yet, and there were no prospects in sight. A few years later, I did meet my husband, and by that time, I was having problems again. I had my second surgery early in our relationship. That only perpetuated my urge to have a baby now.

We married and immediately began planning for a baby. I expected it to be easy, but I could not have been more wrong.

Months turned into a year of trying with nothing. I visited the doctor to get help. Each time I was late, there was hope and excitement. I remember being a week late, vomiting and knowing this had to be it only to be devastated once again. Month after month no double pink lines.
Another year passed, I remember God telling me we would have a baby before my 30th birthday. When I turned 29, I figured He must be waiting until the last minute to make this happen. A month later, we received a call about a young lady wanting to give her baby up for adoption. I burst into tears and knew right away that was our miracle baby. Any family who has adopted can contest that you don’t just get a call like that. It is a grueling and expensive process that can take years. I had a feeling when I was younger that along with biological children, I would adopt. Also, my first child would be a boy. Our sweet baby boy was born in April, four months before my 30th birthday. I was thankful, grateful. To this day, I look at him in complete awe. When our son turned one, we contemplated more children. Despite our fertility issues, I could not shake how God promised I could carry at least one of my babies. Now 30, the clock seemed to be ticking alarmingly louder. We considered the option of I.V.F. By this time, it had been three years we were unable to do it on our own and with the help of meds. I went in for the consultation and was told I needed another surgery.

Another year passed. I had this feeling one attempt of I.V.F would work for us. So, we started the process. After the egg retrieval process, I had a sense I needed to wait a month before the transferred. Yet, I was stubborn and did not want to delay any longer. However, two days before the transfer, I went to the doctor sick. He immediately stopped the process. I knew it was God’s divine intervention because I was not going to listen. A month later, my body was ready to go. They implanted two embryos, and we waited a week for the results. I had a feeling it worked. I also had a vision of twins. Two days before my appointment, I became overwhelmed by our fertility journey. Against doctor’s wishes, I immediately took a pregnancy test, prepared to see the one line I was used to. My world shifted into a whole other arena when I saw the double pink lines. It was an unfamiliar place of happiness and joy I cannot even begin to explain. We waited five years to see those double pink lines. Every week my numbers were high and my labs were positive. This was it! Though one always fears miscarriage, I was certain God told me it would happen this way. I knew this baby would be okay, but it was not the case. I had a silent miscarriage. No warnings. Just a missing heartbeat at my sonogram. Are you serious, God?

There is no pain like a miscarriage, but to deal with infertility and miscarry is something different. You can’t just try again.

In addition, you are more in debt now.

On my 32nd birthday, I was at home losing my baby, losing what I thought God promised me. Not only was I devastated, I was confused. Had I not heard Him correctly? Was this me speaking and I put God’s name on it? Why would He take five years to give us another baby and then, take it away like this? I needed answers, but nothing anyone could say would justify how God took our second baby like this. It was weeks of confusion and no answers. I needed answers. I prayed each day for them. In the mist of ugly cries and the late night weeps, my only answer was God never left me. That wasn’t enough. I realized, despite my pleas, I wasn’t ready to know. I began to pray for peace beyond my own understanding, and God gradually revealed.

The first answer appeared in a quote, “God wouldn’t allow it, if it wasn’t going to move me toward purpose.”

I had not considered my purpose in a while. I knew becoming a teacher aligned with my purpose, but it is only a snippet of it.

The next reveal came through a conversation with a friend. This season of excruciating pain was to heal my marriage completely.

Neither of us grew up with an example of a healthy marriage. My husband has always been amazing man with amazing qualities. I knew he would be a great husband and incredibly father from the beginning. Though our marriage was okay, there was a hairline crack that concerned me. I worried another baby could strain us in ways we were not prepared. However, I remained confident it would be the opposite, and it was. Just not in the way I anticipated. We’d never experienced a loss that was ours together. Through our lost, I reached a new level of vulnerability with my husband. He has been my rock in this season. Right before my eyes, our marriage transformed into a love deeper than I could have fathomed. There is intimacy there that has sealed that hairline fracture. We hold hands and pray together like never before. Our bond is solid in Christ.

The final reveal was my relationship with Him. I had become stagnant and was reluctant to go deeper in Him.

Let’s face it, it is an uncomfortable process. Besides, a few years prior, I experienced an extensive transformation in my walk with Christ. I left the ministry and found an authentic relationship with God that was not rooted in other people’s opinions and perceptions. Though leaving ministry was supposed to be temporary, I had grown comfortable being away. My thoughts, at least I wasn’t a “baby Christian.” I did not realize how amateur my walk with Christ had become. God was my provider and the genie of wishes. If I wanted something, I asked/prayed, and He supplied. He had never been the God who gives and takes away.

I had to stop looking at God as the God of only great things or at least my notion of great. He is a God that allows pain too. Sometimes, unspeakable pain as my recent experience.

Though it can feel that way, it does not make Him cruel or a bully. He is God who is higher than my limited thinking, God who is closer than any human relationship I will encounter on earth, God who is unequivocally real to me.
So here I am, somewhere in between the scabbing and peeling. Though it hurts and nothing will replace losing our baby, I have my answers. I no longer view my loss as punishment or how I failed God and my family.

The Scripture, “Write the vision and make it plain…” comes to mind. When I lost our baby, I lost the vision. (Habakkuk 2)

I no longer picture myself with a big belly or peered into the back of the car envisioning two additional car seats next to my son’s car seat. I no longer picture us on family vacations with all of our children. My pain blinded me from remembering God’s promise. Had I not written it down, I would have lost it. As I read it repeatedly, it returned. I ceased questioning if I heard God. I heard God. His promise still stands; I cannot be limited to how I think it is going to happen.

Just like He fulfilled His promise with my sweet boy, He will not delay.

All these years, I have known about the hem of His garment. I have reached for it. I have touched it, even held on for dear life. Now, I spread out on it, lying at the heel of His feet, getting to know Him in ways my little mind has never fathom. He comforts me. My hope lies in Him. I can rest in knowing, He hasn’t forgotten about me.

 

Ebby LeBlanc