Have you ever felt like your faith was strong enough to save someone only to find your dreams crushed? I have.
I come from a big family and I have always wanted a big family myself. When asked how many kids I want, the honest answer is as many as my husband will allow. Then I want to adopt.
I love being a mom. Being pregnant always came easily to me. I love the feel of a growing belly and all the first moments. I love imagining what the baby will look like then God blowing my mind, making them even more beautiful.
So when I found out I was pregnant after a miscarriage the month before I was so excited. I recorded K reading a handwritten note letting him know the news. I told my parents and I hung a frame on the “grandchild wall” at my parent’s house. We were having a baby! I was determined to grow this baby in love not fear so I boldly shared the news with my friends confident that everything would be okay.
On Wednesday, July 25th while on the phone with my friends I felt it. The first sign that I was going to lose the baby. I got off the phone woke up my mom and asked her to take me to the hospital. We waited, the doctors ran tests, then they apologized for my loss and sent me on my way. I was losing the baby. I stopped bleeding once we left the hospital. I stayed in bed for three days. There was Hope.
I kept being reminded of the scripture in John 11:35 Jesus wept. In this passage, Jesus friend Lazarus died the situation was beyond hope. Jesus wept. Then Jesus raised His friend from the dead. I took this as confirmation that Jesus would save the baby.
The kids prayed over my womb and did all they could to keep my tears at bay. This was a side of them I hadn’t seen much of. They got to take care of mommy. They wanted the baby too and they did their best to help K take care of me. July 28th, Saturday morning we went in to have my blood tested I couldn’t wait any longer. They were going to tell me the good news. The baby was fine!
The doctor comes in reads my test results and says, “Your numbers have dropped substantially. I am so sorry, you are losing the baby.” I was so confused. What do you mean? If my numbers were dropping I should have been bleeding. Right? I should have had some sign. The numbers dropped right into the range of low normal for the number of weeks I was. So there may be Hope. Right?
There was that scripture again, “Jesus wept.”
Sunday, July 29 I lost the baby. I was home. I was with my husband and mother and as I held this tiny precious Hope in my hands. That’s what we named the baby, Hope.
I was so mad! This was the first time in a long time I could remember being mad at God. I did all the right things. I prayed! I had faith! I stayed positive! I had Hope! I know there are songs that say, “if God never does anything else for me He has already done enough.” I know I am supposed to say, “All things work together for good.” At that moment I was just crushed.
Jesus wept. I wept.
I needed clarity, understanding, some closure. Something!
This is what I got. Jesus wept, meant Jesus knew my heartbreak. Jesus wept, meant I wasn’t in it alone. Jesus wept, meant He could have but He didn’t. And it was ultimately for His glory.
Jesus could have prevented Lazarus from dying but didn’t. He chose instead to let him die, then raised him from the dead. I don’t know what is going to raise out of this situation, but I do know that it will be for the glory of God. God is sovereign.
My Hope is no longer in me. Hope cannot be based on my actions or my faith. When I think of the situation now, I remember an old song, “My hope is built on nothing less, than Jesus love and righteousness, I dare not trust the sweetest frame but wholly lean on Jesus name.”
I am at peace, and I know that something wonderful will be.
**I felt bad for grieving because I already have three healthy, beautiful, children but my loss was, in fact, a loss. If you are grieving and in need of a safe space to share your story, you found one. Feel free to leave it in the comments below.**