I was just told recently about a seminary professor who was having a conversation with his class. It was on the issue of souls and heaven, and someone asked about the souls of so many babies that are lost to miscarriage. He simply smiled and responded, "I think that Heaven is big enough." It is with the heavy heart that I make this next post. I find great comfort in the words "Heaven is big enough." David and I found out a few weeks ago that we were expecting "Baby #3" as we like to call it. We already had names ready! We waited to tell our families because we wanted to enjoy the first few weeks with just the family. Little did I know that the special time that David and I had would be our only time.
I began to miscarry this past weekend and am still in the process as I write this. I curled in a ball and cried as my husband held me when it began. My disbelief that this was happening was made into a reality when we went to the doctor on Monday. I will spare you all of the physical details because that's not what I want to write about. Just please pray that this will pass quickly from me, for it is a constant reminder of the baby that I will never hold. The eyes that I will never wipe tears away from. The bumps and bruises that I will never get to kiss. I never knew the kind of sorrow and pain that women experienced after a miscarriage, and to be honest it takes knowing someone very closely to even understand a little of what they are going through. My heart is breaking. There are a lot of ways to try to make sense of this, but that's not what I want. Loosing a baby does not make since, whether they are miscarried, stillborn, or die outside of the womb at whatever age. We live in an imperfect world where these things happen. I am not concerning myself with the why's, but rather where I go from here. How do I mourn the loss of someone that I know so well but for such a short amount of time, but never met? It is hard because there is no body to bury, there is no service to be held. No one sits on the couch and cries with us, but those that are really close to us. People may try to say that we never knew this child, or maybe it never developed. To us, this was a child, our third child that we did know if only for a short season. I still hurt, but everyone else moves on.
I feel an emptiness in the pit of my stomach. A sickening kind that won't let up. It does not offer me hope to think that maybe this protected us from something that could be worse. Maybe that is just for now, and my heart will change later. Please do not see me as being rude, but as a mother who is suffering loss. I wish that I could better explain the emptiness that I feel. Just know that it is a dark, deep, barren place. One where only the Lord can find me.
I am leaning heavily on David, and Jesus is having to carry us both. But His arms are strong! David is at a loss for words, but yet can find a lot to say. Please pray for him, that God will give him a grace on his words. David is angry. He was so excited about this baby. He has been ready for another child since April. He feels the loss of a child, and aches for his wife. This is a very different and difficult place. We are holding on to each other tighter than ever before. Please pray that our marriage will be even better as we walk through this valley. We are keeping the lines open and communicating the best that we can right now. We will be placing something on Dixon's grave as a memorial. I hope that this will bring closure, which I so desperately need.
You may want to know what we need right now. We need you to be graceful with your words. Please guard our hearts as you speak to us. I know that this will not last forever, just please remember that though we never held or saw him, our baby was very real to us and so is the loss. Please pray that I will physically heal quickly. It will take a few more days to clean out and then a couple of weeks to normalize hormonally. I am going to begin training with David and preparing for the half-marathon. Please pray for my family, because I know that they are not sure how to respond. They hurt because I hurt but only found out we were pregnant as I was going to the hospital. They never had time to even celebrate with us. Pray that as we walk through this, God will show us how to rejoice and praise Him all the more.
This has not shaken our faith but is making us stronger. I love the Lord more today than ever before. I am not angry with Him. He is not the creator of evil, but of good things. I am thankful that God knows how I feel, and His tears are even bigger than mine. A heart that can hold such a perfect love most definetly can mourn with me who is not perfect. David reminds me that through that love, I will hold our baby one day and that he is in a state of flawless perfection. So though I hurt right now, I have the hope of salvation! I will probably write more later, but this is a very rough writing of what is going on with us. Just know that I am thankful that Heaven is big enough for you and for me. We will be okay, and God's love is washing over us wave after wave. For now, I must bask in that love as my heart begins to heal.