Miscarriage — The bitter and the sweet

Excitement and hope in a marriage

Marriage brings so much hope for a new couple, as it did for us. Our life together stretched out in front of us — full of hopes and dreams. For me, as with many young sisters, my dreams were quietly wrapped up in the hope of being a mother. There was something inside that could barely wait to hold a baby and call it my own. The day the pregnancy test showed positive, I was filled with joy and began to do all those little things a newly expectant mother does. I’d dream all day about my baby, hands unconsciously cradling my tummy while no one watched. It was instant. I was bonding. God had blessed us with a little family, and we were truly grateful.

Life was busy, and those first uncertain weeks disappeared quickly with just a little nausea. I continued working part-time, running the house, and attending the many ecclesial activities as usual. Beaming with hope, my first midwife appointment was booked; I was excited to meet her and absorb all she had to say.

Hope replaced by despair

Around fourteen weeks pregnant, I was blissfully asleep one night. We had a single brother staying in our guest room. Out of nowhere, at about midnight the pain of what became early labour began. The contractions were low and slow, but gradually became worse to the point of groaning agony. Filled with shame, I was desperate to suffer silently and did so. I was awake all night.

In the morning, unsure of how to help, my husband informed our visitor that I wasn’t ‘feeling well’ and took him out for brunch. Looking back, I really didn’t know what was happening, but, around 10 am, I felt the baby come away and all was lost in a pool of blood. Overwhelmed and ashamed, despair filled my heart. Now a mother, yet with empty arms, I remained childless. A little piece of me died that day.

I was alone, devastated, and exhausted. But … this was only the beginning of a lonely, devastating, and exhausting journey.

The next pregnancy, a similar story, was lost at 10 weeks. This time, however, I allowed myself no connection. I could not bond. I dare not. This time I hardened my heart. This time my sister-in-law was pregnant. This time our close friends had their first baby boy. Longing to be filled with hope again, my heart was cold and distant.

Was this going to be my trial? Was I to be the “barren one”? What was God doing? Where was God? Why was He doing this? I withdrew from certain ecclesial and social events. But worst of all, I withdrew from God.

I lay awake many nights with tears of confusion and disbelief. Surely my calling was motherhood. Why was it being denied? With each pregnancy lost, some hope died with it. But despite this pain, I never allowed myself to grieve. To this day I don’t really understand why, but I do know that I saw grief and sorrow as a sign of weakness.

Shortly after this second miscarriage, we moved countries; not by my design, but it was a welcome relief from our suffocating social situation and my feelings of failure as a ‘real’ woman. In an ecclesial environment where family is everything, was I going to be a ‘nothing’? Fear was taking its grip on my faith. It was hard work walking around with my secret sadness. Miscarriage is so physically intense, bizarrely isolating, and full of uncertainties.

In our new ecclesial environment, I could isolate and hide behind a facade of “having it all together”, all the while feeling confused and broken underneath. I was even bitter at my husband for not being “sad enough”. I began living a spiritual lie, robbing myself of any spiritual intimacy with my brethren and with my God. Where was God? Most times I couldn’t pray. Where would I even start if I was to be honest with God? Honest with myself? Would God even care to hear my cry? I doubted it.

During this period of what became ten years, I was pregnant ten times and lost seven little ones. As much as I tried, I couldn’t keep those pregnancies. As this trial went on, I had no choice but to concede that I had no control. But where would admitting this leave me? Would it leave me without hope and helpless?

Ten years is a long time to suffer and not be changed one way or the other. Was brokenness and bitterness going to be the end of my story? I knew that I was certainly not in control, but I also knew that I had a choice to make. Not about pregnancy, babies, or miscarriages, but about what was going on in my heart.

Looking back, what helped me

My first miscarriage was almost 14 years ago now, and even though I have since tasted the sweetness of three healthy children, the bitterness of miscarriage is to this day an important part of my journey towards the peace of God. Today, I can say that this trial of multiple miscarriages has become a blessing. I can confidently say that what I saw to be my ruin, was far from it. It has had a powerful effect for my good. Anything that brings us closer to our God is indeed the greatest of all blessings.

Looking back there were three essential things that worked together towards changing my heart.

Acceptance

Having believed for so long that grieving those lost babies would only be a sign of weakness and that I hadn’t accepted God’s will, I have now come to believe that this is a lie. Grieving is not weakness; grieving is in fact the beginning of the acceptance of God’s will. Grieving can’t be forced or hurried. In time, pain lessens. Once the loss is mourned and accepted, life goes on. Even if it is never the same again, it still goes on. If I couldn’t sit with myself in sorrow and pain, how would I ever faithfully sit with and comfort others who were in sorrow and pain!

I also had to give up asking “why?” It isn’t mine to know God’s reasons; it is mine to know God and to know Him intimately. I knew it as a fact that He had power to create life in the beginning. But how would this knowledge affect my thinking, my walk, my life? Did I really believe it? Could I accept God’s will and trust Him with my life and with the lives of these babies? Hannah knew the answer: “The Lord killeth, and maketh alive: he bringeth down to the grave, and bringeth up.” (1 Samuel 2: 6). I had to surrender my will and accept God’s. Thy Will, not mine be done. Grieving openly and honestly with God, I made my request known and then let go of the outcome, trusting that God really is in control.

It is only upon accepting my utter dependence upon God (Jeremiah 10: 23) and trusting Him to direct my path that I am able to experience the power of His love. Knowing that my tribulations are working a great work of patience, giving necessary experiences, and reason for hope. Tribulations are not designed to make me ashamed, rather, that the love of God might be poured into my heart and even amidst great tribulation, I can have peace with God and be secure in his love. (Romans 5;3-5; 8:37-39)

Surrender

When I was so spiritually low and struggling, the idea of surrender seemed like a cop-out. Didn’t I need to be stronger and fight harder? No. It isn’t even a matter of feeling spiritual enough or strong enough on any day to want to surrender and trust. That is never going to happen, for by strength shall no man prevail (1 Samuel 2: 9). In reality, when I feel ‘strong’ or ‘spiritual’ I don’t recognise the need to surrender. Instead, it is simply making the daily decision, whether by desert road or riverside, to yield everything to the Lord’s control and take the practical actions each day to read and pray, changing the way I think and learning to fight with Self-will rather than fight with God.

As our Brother Dennis Gillett so beautifully puts it, “We do not always know the reason for our disturbance but we know the disturber. We can trust Him” (Genius of Discipleship Page 21).

I’d always thought being in control was imperative to my success. As life goes on, I am coming to understand that it’s not so much about being successful as it is about being faithful. Truth is, the dedication of human powers to human aims cannot be the way to finding the peace of God. Admitting I had no control over this one thing I was so desperate to control was a crucial step. The next critical thing was to give that control to my God. It was a choice I had to make even if what God did was not what I wanted. True peace comes from satisfaction in God’s perfect provision. Surrender.

Meditation

I knew God’s provision and precious promises were laid out in His word and it was there that I had to turn. Every day I had so many negative thoughts. We know we cannot control the first thought but it’s our responsibility to take charge of the second. Each day I had to turn those negative thoughts over to His Word and read and keep reading until I found that comfort and hope — my resting place. (Romans 15: 4). There are passages that speak God’s truth to us. The truth is that, if we are with Christ we are not alone, our Father is with us (John 16: 32).

Reading His Word, I reminded myself that God has not abandoned us to any sad situation. No matter how alone, confused, and bitter we feel, feelings are not facts. They are feelings, and they change. Reading, reciting, and remembering His Word gives us the power to overcome. Scripture counsels us to meditate on His Word day and night. This elevates our thinking into the time when God Himself will intervene in all our human affairs, wiping away all tears. There will be no more suffering, pain, or sorrow.

Learning to trust God’s educating hand

For now, I can see that the pain of multiple miscarriages has become my teacher. God is a perfect Creator. What He creates is no mistake. His hand is shaping my heart, and this is no accident (Psalm 33: 15). My job is not to control all things, but to yield to His perfect will, to stay close to Him and perform His work well. This is when I find the patience and peace I so desperately need to endure to the end.

We know the promise that to all who mourn He will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, a garment of praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great trees that Yahweh Himself has planted for His own glory (Isaiah 61: 2–3)!

We are not alone

By God’s grace, I have been able to share this story with some of my sisters in Christ, breaking miscarriage’s destructive isolation. I now know that I am not alone. There are more than we think who have suffered a miscarriage and other sorrow and loss around childbearing. Where once I would have closed my heart, God has opened it to share my story. Yahweh our God is able to transform our suffering into something for His glory (Psalm 30: 11–12). He has the power to take what feels to me like a disadvantage and make it something not only for my own eternal good, but also for the eternal good of others, and all to His praise!

Praise Yahweh, and may we trust Him and yield our will and lives into His loving care, in both the bitter and the sweet.

O Thou, whose bounty fills my cup
With every blessing meet!
I give Thee thanks for every drop—
The bitter and the sweet.
I praise Thee for the desert road,
And for the riverside;
For all Thy goodness hath bestowed,
And all Thy grace denied.
I thank Thee for both smile and frown,
And for the gain and loss;
I praise Thee for the future crown,
And for the present cross.
I thank Thee for thy wings of love,
Which stirred my worldly nest;
And for the stormy clouds which drove
Me trembling to Thy breast.
I bless Thee for the glad increase,
And for the waning joy;
And for this strange, this settled peace,
Which nothing can destroy.

Jane Crewdson, 1860

(Note: These words can be sung to the tune of Hymn 65 in the Christadelphian Hymn Book — “Behold how good a thing it is”)

Photo Credit: Adapted from photo by Krists Luhaers on Unsplash