Some surprising lessons from our recent loss

I’ve so missed sharing with you, all of you (guys, you’re welcome too)! I’ve missed writing, as that is often how God helps clarify and solidify what He’s teaching me. I have not had an hour of free time (besides morning Word/prayer times and Sunday afternoons when I nap!), since early September–no exaggeration. We have been in a season of running hard, and I don’t regret a second of it. It has been rich, fruitful, difficult, and so very good.

Seasons are just that, seasons. In two weeks, when the bulk of my speaking commitments are through and Heidi’s play is over, we’re taking off for a week as a family, to rest and play together. I’m excited for that time together, but I don’t feel desperate for it. This season has been good. That season will be good. Paul said he knew how to roll with every season and be content in it, not just when it’s over. I guess that’s part of what I’m learning too.

Many of you have traveled with us on this journey of having more children. Long story short, in 2016, after a 40-day fast, through a number of confirmations and circumstances, Jeff and I both sensed God leading us to get a vasectomy reversal and have two more children. He gave us two names: Honor and Justice. I was completely caught off guard when Honor was lost. I’d never experienced miscarriage, and God used it to bring up many thing in both Jeff and me that needed to be worked through. He gave me a new girl name: Hope.

Several months later, I was pregnant again. Thrilled. This time I carried 11 weeks before learning Our Hope is in Heaven. Physically, that miscarriage was horrendous, but afterward, I felt tremendous peace. The timing just so happened that just two days later we had a beach vacation planned with our dearest friends, and I felt enveloped in a cocoon of love, prayer, grace, not to mention amazing meals and tons of relaxation. There was grief, but it was like falling into a fluffy friendship cloud of comfort.

In Scripture, especially in the OT, we often see names having great significance, often related to the spiritual state of the parents’ hearts, or what was going on in the culture at large. I never experienced any of this sort of significance with our older children, but for whatever reason, this time around names have been very significant. Also, each miscarried child has had a name.

The day I miscarried with Hope, we had our church’s prayer meeting that night–so clearly I heard “Hallelujah.” I wrote the name across the top of my journal page, then jotting down “Halle” (rhymes with Sally) for short.

I loved that name, and was so excited. I thought she would be born next. A few months later I became pregnant, and two trusted friends separate shared a dream/vision that I was having a boy. And I was:

Justice.

Our amazing, chubby bundle of smiles, Justice has forever changed our lives. His late arrival and delivery brought its own series of lessons (Wasted work; Joy; Psalm 131, Preparations; Delivery). We can’t imagine our lives without him.

He was worth the wait.

So you can imagine our joy when, this September, I found out I was pregnant again. Yes! I had hoped to have baby #2 before I turned 40, and this would make my delivery date just a couple weeks before that date. I started praying for little Halle, our little bean-sized baby.

I did kind of wonder what this journey would entail. Last spring, I had two friends separately share the song, “Nothing can take my Hallelujah” with me. I thought, perhaps, difficult circumstances would surround her birth. I thought the physical birth of “Praise Yahweh” would represent joy in the midst of difficulty.

My midwife scheduled an ultrasound at 7 weeks to see how everything looked. We hadn’t told the kids yet, wanting to wait until everything looked good, so I sneaked in an ultrasound while Heidi was at theater practice and Jeff was with the boys.

It showed baby measuring 5.5 weeks, with no heartbeat. My heart sank.

BUT. Both the technician and my midwife were convinced everything was fine. Often dating can be off, and everything looked good otherwise, so they figured it was slightly too early for heartbeat, so we’d “just wait” and see in a week or two.

While in the office, I thought I was fine. But as soon as I got in my car, a torrent of emotion came. I sobbed to God,

“I cannot do this again. I cannot keep having my heart torn apart.”

I begged him to please let this baby live.

Part of what was overwhelming was the fact that I had eleven speaking engagements this fall, including 5 straight weekends of traveling, giving 20+ messages, plus Heidi’s theater schedule of 3 days/week and a solid week of working backstage for dress-rehearsals plus working eight shows. I had already felt overwhelmed by how to navigate all the commitments.

And now I had to “just wait” to see if the baby inside me was dead or alive? We hadn’t shared about the pregnancy. Our kids didn’t know, families didn’t know. It felt strangely lonely to just keep going along as usual, not knowing whether I carried life or death. That evening, after my ultrasound, a friend and I were hosting a baby shower. It was the last thing I wanted to do, honestly. I was exhausted from crying and my flesh so wanted to just be home and be sad all by myself. But so clearly I knew God was saying, Set yourself aside for the sake of serving others.

But it’s so HARD to set ourselves aside. It takes dying! And there’s nothing more clear in Scripture:

“In humility count others more significant than yourselves. Let each of you look not only to his own interests, but also to the interests of others.”

Phil. 2:3-4

Every Christlike act of love takes the willingness to set ourselves aside for the sake of serving others. This is the very essence of what Jesus did, and that He calls us to do.

It takes humbling ourselves to prioritize others’ needs above our feelings. Philippians 2:5-8 says this is exactly what Jesus did.

The next weekend, I was flying to Colorado to speak at a conference. I was nervous about flying, but once again, knew God’s will was clear: Trust Me. It would take me trusting Him with my body, my heart, my emotions. I was still very sick with morning sickness, so it was a tiring trip, but the ladies were amazing and I could SEE God be strong as I felt so weak. It felt good to focus on others and get the joy of seeing God move.

On my flight home, as I sat exhausted with my hand resting on my belly, praying, I heard the young guy next to me telling the person next to him how grateful he was that his girlfriend was able to get an abortion for $75 instead of $400.

Tears silently slipped down my cheek. For him. For this broken world. For all that’s just so wrong. For the babies unwanted and the babies so desperately wanted and the incongruity of it all and knowing this is only a drop in the ocean of sorrow that is a reality in our world. And knowing the Father can and will sort it all out but the meantime…

We groan inwardly as we wait eagerly…

Rom. 8:21-23

And I whispered into the darkness, “Sort it out, God. Please. Sort it out.”

{Time to get back to my kiddos; I’ll write more soon}