If you have been a faithful follower of my blog, and you know me at all, you know that I have four living children. The title of these posts about my pregnancies lets you know that I have seven of them. I have told you about two of my children being born healthy...and two of my children entering the Kingdom of Heaven. So, we must press on. This pregnancy is one more link to who I am today. I would not have chosen my path, but I allowed God to use it to make me stronger.
Two tragic losses. Then two healthy babies. When my husband and I found out we were pregnant again, we were so excited. As a little added bonus...my best friend was also pregnant. She was expecting her second baby boy. She was one of the only people that knew we were expecting. Again we weren't telling too many people...just in case. But we figured we were in the clear. We had dealt with out losses. We were through that portion of our lives. Now, we could enjoy having children. Right?
Uh, not so much. We were progressing in the pregnancy and we began to have some complications. Then one night while we were at a friends' house, just as with my first two pregnancies the complications got much worse. I immediately burst into tears in their bathroom. Trying to figure out how I could compose myself enough to go tell Eric what was going on. I did not even give our God...Healer...a chance. I was already assuming it was over. I came out of the bathroom after what seemed like an hour...to find that my husband had left. He and our friend, Al had gone somewhere for a little bit. It was evident by my tear stained face that I was on the verge of losing it.
My friend Chris took me into another room as I explained what was going on. She prayed for me...and I doubted. When Eric got back...they all prayed for me...and I doubted. We started on our way to the ER. Silence. I could do nothing but weep silently. There were no words for the disappointment I was feeling. I was already preparing for how I was going to overcome another death of another baby I had already learned to love.
You see it isn't at first sight that a mother and father learn to love. It is the positive test. It is the first appointment. It is the first sight of a tiny beating heart. It is the blurry blob of a black and white sonogram picture. I had all of those. I had proof that my baby had been living. And now I was about to have another sonogram to find out what I already knew. No heartbeat.
The doctor who had been very hurried and uncompassionate up until this point...now came in with a face drenched in solemness and sorrow. He gave us the bad news...and sent us on our way. He said he had spoken with my doctor and she said that there was no need to come in again unless my condition worsened. Even those words stung my already hurting heart. We drove home, again in silence.
Later, once we were home with our children my phone rang. It was a friend of a friend telling me to call the hospital because my prego best friend was there. She was not due to have her baby for weeks...so I called not knowing what to expect. She answered and told me that her son had indeed been born that night. He was tiny, but doing fairly well. He was in the NICU and would need to spend some time in the hospital. We talked about what all had happened to her that night...and then she asked what I found out at the ER. My heart just sank. Here she is on cloud nine because her son has just been born...and now I have to tell her that mine is gone. It was really hard on both of us. What could we say?!
Over the next few days my condition worsened. One day as I was in tears on my couch...my sweet little son came over to console me. He did all he knew how to do to help. He prayed that God would make our baby all better. As soon as he was finished...he instantly believed it would happen. I doubted.
Even after all of the prayers that were lifted up on behalf of that baby...I never believed. Remember that innocent happiness that had been stolen after my second miscarriage? I was being held in a place where I couldn't even trust the God that I so dearly loved. The God that I praised because he had given me two living children when I had only been promised one. The God that I was claiming to serve on a daily basis. The God who was faithful to me, ALWAYS!
I thought I had been healed of the emotions and anger from my first two miscarriages. Now that I was faced with yet a third disappointment...they all came back. I was very angry. I was embarrassed at my lack of belief. I was upset that I had to face people who had prayed for me and tell them the news. I was mad that I had to deal with another heartache of a child lost. I was in shock that God had chosen the day of my son's death to be the day of my best friend's son's birth. I was right where the enemy wanted me. Struck down.
But I thank God He promises that I will not be destroyed. He promises that He will use everything for the good of those who love Him. And I love Him. I know I didn't show it...but He knows it. He has seen every day of my life, and He has seen my heart. He knew that that pregnancy would cause me to be struck down. And He knew that my husband and I would not let it destroy us. And He knew that that pregnancy would be the healing, once and for all, of all the hurt. All the pain. All the disbelief. All the distrust. All the unforgiveness from each of my miscarriages. Finally, I could experience grief...and really get through it.
I had been feeling guilty for a while about the fact that I was still hurting. It seemed as if my grief became a part of almost every conversation I had. I could relate so many conversations to what I was going through. I felt as though people were annoyed with hearing about it. (Which is a lie from the deceiver...but I bought it for long enough!) One day I was a women's bible study and God finally showed me. The thing that was still bothering me was the timing. I was still frustrated about the timing. He said to me..."The day that Angie's son entered the world, that was the day that yours entered Heaven!" Finally...it was as if the weight had been lifted. I didn't want to think of death when she was celebrating life.
So you see. God had a plan. He knew. Even though I felt as though I failed Him, He was still faithful to me. I trust Him. I have a greater knowledge of Him as Healer. I have a better appreciation of His blessings to me. I have a bigger voice for His provision. And I have a increased passion for reaching out to women who have gone through this kind of painful loss...and need a little encouragement from someone who has been there.
I am here for you. Disappointed one. Barron one. Angered one. Doubtful one. I have felt. And I am victorious through Jesus Christ! You can be too. Start by being real before God. Tell him how hurt and broken you feel. Let Him heal you and make you stronger. You may be the link to someone else's healing and restoration...but that means first you must be strengthened. Don't believe the lies of the enemy. Focus on the truths of the Father!
Words have power. Written words provide proof. You can read them, and reread them whenever you want. They can speak life to someone who needs encouragement. They can speak death to someone who is being deceived. The choice lies within you. How is it that you want people to remember you? Encourager...that is the gift that God has laid on my heart. To use my written, spoken, and/or sung words to lift people up. To be one link in their road to healing, restoration, joy. I have been without those things, and I claim them to be mine again. If you want me to seek God on a prayer for a specific situation...that is why I am here. I would LOVE LOVE LOVE to pray God's Word of Life over you.