Sunday, November 4, 2012


It's been almost five months since I last blogged. An update is in order: J and I are going to have a baby, God willing, sometime next summer. And with this joyous revelation has come a whole new level of fear, a whole new opportunity to lean into God.

Especially yesterday.

I woke up, used the toilet and found blood; it was bright red and frightening. I was in shock at first, unable to even process the thought that my little baby could be dead. I pretty much collapsed against J, sobbing and shaking and slowly grasping the fact that I was miscarrying and all the joy and hope and life I had growing inside of me was gone. J called my mom and his mom and my friend Jamie (a prenatal nurse), and we moved to the living room to try and make sense of it all.

But how do you make sense of the thought that the God who gave us this miracle could, would, take him from us? How do you hold fast to the Sovereign and the Good and believe that neither wavers or changes or lessens all while life bleeds out of you? How do you have faith when your fears whisper "It's your fault, your sin, your doing or lack of doing"?

I was torn between two prayers, each as different as night from day: God, save my baby. God, prepare me to let him go. Faith and fear. And both so overwhelming all I could do was sob and pray and wait for some direction. And when it came, it came in a scripture and in a song.

"In hope [Abraham] hoped against hope, that he should become the father of many nations...fully convinced that God was able to do what He had promised." (Rom 4:18,21)

"So take me to the Mountain, I will follow where You lead, and here I'll lay the body of the boy You gave to me. And even if You take him, still I ever will obey, but Maker of this Mountain, please make another way." (Andrew Peterson)

So I began to pray for a miracle, that God would make another way, that He would heal me and protect my baby. Mom and dad and my sister came and we wept and prayed more. And Bekah echoed the story of Abraham to me, unknowingly confirming the word I had received before. And we prayed.

And God heard. And God healed.

The blood flow dried from bright red to dark brown to pale brown. I had no pain or cramping or nausea. And as far as we can tell, it was only a burst blood vessel, and the baby is fine. I've spent the weekend resting and I call my doctor tomorrow. But for now, for now, everything is ok.

Which leaves the question: why? I have no certainties, but a few conclusions. 1) To help me recognize, as my dear friend Abby said, that this baby is God's, not mine, and I will have him not one second longer than the Lord wills. 2) To remind me again the power of prayer. Because I am fully convinced that I was in the process of a miscarriage and God listened to prayers of family and friends and healed me. 3) To help me, like Abraham, see the God who provides. Faith in my fear. Direction in my confusion. Healing in my sickness. Comfort in my pain.

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