Walking Through Fire - Hope in Miscarriage

“When you pass through the waters, I will be with you, and the rivers will not overwhelm you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, and the flame will not burn you.” Isaiah 43:2 (CSB)

I despise OBGYN waiting rooms. First of all, they stink. They either smell like an offensively strong scented plug-in or like a sterile, uncompassionate hospital. Secondly, there is never a good wi-fi connection so you can’t even distract yourself on your phone! But maybe the biggest reason I hate these waiting rooms is that they have forced me to face the realities of miscarriage. The reality that my hand resting on my belly is the closest I’ll ever get to holding my baby. And the reality that I cannot fast-track my way through this.

We have to walk through the fire. This makes no sense to our flight-or-fight response. We are wired to run away from things that can hurt us. Who would willingly walk through the fire? Someone confident that they would be okay on the other side.

So, in case no one has told you this, you will be okay. Let me be clear – what you’re experiencing is not okay. God hates death and He grieves with you. And you will learn to carry your grief into the next season and the next and you will be okay.

I can say this now because I have lived it.

There were days when I wasn’t sure that I would be okay. Days when I would even be offended at the thought. And I was under the Lord’s care. There were days when I was so angry at God that I had to pull into a parking lot so that I could scream and pound on the steering wheel. And I was under the Lord’s care.

I had mornings when I couldn’t open my Bible yet, I would simply hold it against my chest and ask the Lord my questions. And I was under the Lord’s care.

There were days when I would find an unfamiliar smile on my face as my toddler danced around the room. And I was under the Lord’s care. There were days that I held a friend as she was experiencing a miscarriage too. And I was under the Lord’s care.

As I sit here this afternoon, it has been years since my last miscarriage. My family is not as big as I hoped it would be. I have grieved that chapter too. I have two miraculous kids eating pretzels and peanut butter next to me. My Bible is open now and I have tears in my eyes. And I’m still under the Lord’s care.

I’m okay because it was never a healthy pregnancy that the Lord promised me. He promised me His presence. And He has never failed me. He has never been scared off by the waves of questions, the swells of anger, the brushfire of pain as I watched friends go on to have healthy babies. He’s been in it with me and He’s still here.

Why is His presence such a comfort? Because He is not a distant, cosmic puppet master. He is my suffering Savior, acquainted with human sorrow. He is my loving Father, who hates death and grieves my baby with me. He is my defender, keeping my heart from bitterness as I keep my eyes locked on Him. He is the One in my present and the One in my future. In His presence is a joy that makes no sense. It’s a joy that probably has tears in its eyes, a joy that feels more like strength than I expected. He is the beginning of my story, the beginning of my baby’s story, and He is the end where we will meet again.

Reflection:

How have you experienced the character of God in your miscarriage?

Prayer:

Father, how I wish you could fast-track me through this pain. It is so hard to keep waiting for another month to conceive, to wait to miscarry, to wait to take a pregnancy test. But I trust that you are the God in my waiting. I believe that you are who you say you are – Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace, Creator of the universe. You do not grow tired or weary; you even keep watch over me as I sleep. Will you make your presence undeniable to me this week? I want to experience the protection of your peace.