Grieving through the Loss of Our Baby

About 3 weeks ago, Brian and I rejoiced to find out we were expecting our second Baby Stock! Soon after, we started sharing the news with family and close friends, and I started feeling very sick and tired (just like when I was pregnant with Lydia). We bought a "Big Sister" shirt for Lydia, wrapped it and put it under the Christmas tree.

On December 6th, we had our first ultrasound. We saw our little baby, measuring 8 weeks and 5 days...with no heartbeat. The doctors were sympathetic and asked us to come in for tests and another ultrasound at the end of the week. Throughout those (extremely long) 5 days, I had hope. I still felt just as pregnant (I was almost happy every time I got nauseated). I read and prayed through Psalm 139 which tells of God "wonderfully and fearfully" creating and caring for every person even in the mother's womb. I knew that grace had ripped control out of my hands and I had to wait, pray, and hope.

So, Friday came and another ultrasound revealed our tiny baby still with no heartbeat. The doctor quickly explained the medical reasons behind this and scheduled me for a surgery that afternoon. Closure came quickly, in some ways, yet my heart is an open wound and I thought was stronger than this hemorrhage.

Where is my hope? Where is grace? And what of my Father who loves me and desires to give His children good gifts (Matthew 7:7-11)? Our baby dying does not seem like a good gift. It actually doesn't seem like a gift at all, but a curse, a punishment, or maybe a cruel hurtful way to teach me a lesson.

This is not like losing my job or a delay in our plans that I have seen work out for good. I look back and say "God knew what He was doing! It seemed bad at the time, but it all worked out for the better." Will I look back, remember that still silent ultrasound picture and say "See, God had a plan for my good. It all worked out."? I don't know. Maybe in Heaven. But I haven't enough faith and maybe too much honestly to confess that thought isn't very comforting.

I went to seminary. I like the logic of theology. I like how when I dig deep enough I can explain mysteries. I like to fool myself into thinking that I completely comprehend our Lord. I imagine if I could hug Him, my fingers would touch on the other side.

The truth is I would like a hug. One where I am enveloped in Him. One where I know He understands because He cries with me. One where I can be weak because He is supporting me as I tremble. I have to admit an explanation sounds nice. Seeing this tragedy rewritten for good (Romans 8:28) would be wonderful and it sure would make a great story. But a hug sounds better.

So, I continue to lean on my husband who I know grieves with me and still supports me as I fall weak in his arms. I depend so much on my family and friends who have comforted me and just listened. I am so thankful for my church body, the body of Christ, who have hugged me, cared for Lydia, cooked for us, and walked alongside of us without explanations or trite answers.

And even through my honest frustration, sadness and confusion with God, I love Him so much. I am thankful for His promises that are bigger than my understanding. I am thankful that no matter how tight I squeeze my arms will never hold all of Him. And I am truly thankful that His arms now hold our baby when I cannot.