My One Thing

This was not the post I was going to share this week. But I looked at the calendar and remembered. I've sort of been remembering all week but pushing it aside -- telling it to be quiet. "Not yet", I would whisper. But maybe it's time. 

I keep a journal with dates. Four sets of two corresponding dates. Lots of dates I remember easily, but there are eight dates I would prefer not to dwell on. So, I keep them hidden away for moments when I need to go back and remember. 

4.7.17 / 11.20.17

Five years ago last week I had a fourth miscarriage. The second date is the "would have been" due date. I'm sure many women remember their dates and every other detail all too well. Every woman's story of miscarriage and loss is unique to them. But this is not the story of my loss. This is the story of my gain.

In that same journal I have only 6 entries. They were written during that time of loss and waiting and wondering. The last sentence of my entry dated April 8th, 2017 reads, "how do you know when to give up on your dreams?" The next page, in a resounding answer, is blank. And so is every page after it.

My fourth miscarriage was diagnosed as a molar pregnancy. It was like my body thought I was pregnant and was going through all the motions of producing hormones and reproducing cells, but they were all jumbled and disconnected. There was no form, no heartbeat, no baby. Only spots and blots of cells scattered about in a vain attempt to connect the dots. Even my untrained eye could see there was no one there.

For six months after I had regular bloodwork done to ensure my hormone levels were not rising. To make sure my body understood it was no longer pregnant. To add insult to injury. During those 6 months we were not allowed to try again. During those 6 months, I did a lot of thinking. I did a lot of praying. 

When those six months were up, I was ready. No, not ready to try again. I had already been down that road three times before. And it's exhausting. It takes all your physical, emotional and intellectual energy. When you've lost, you overthink everything. When you've lost, you try harder. When you've lost, you seek more control. And when you've taken all the control you can muster and you still lose, then you take responsibility. And so on. 

This time I was ready to let go. I was ready to give it over to the One who creates from nothing. I was ready to really trust Him with what I didn't have and couldn't make happen. And before you start thinking that this was the "key" to getting my happily-ever-after-rainbow-baby, read on.

Can I share with you a very personal prayer? I asked God if, in His great Mercy, He might allow me to stop getting pregnant. "If it will only result in loss Lord, please just make it stop."

And He did.

At least so far. I suppose at 45 it's not impossible, notwithstanding whatever reason my body has for refusing to produce another child. But so far, He has been faithful. And I don't mean He's been faithful to answer a rather unconventional request as it were, but that He's just been faithfully Himself.

A story of loss would not be a story of hope if I didn't share with you what I gained in return. I think in all my years of following after God, it took about 40 of them and 4 losses to finally get to the center of it all. That prayer is not about outcomes. That hope is not about outcomes. That outcomes are not the real treasures we should be running after.  I had to ask myself "what will I do if or when I don't get what I want? Will I give up on Him and go my own way? Will I still love Him and need Him if my prayers return void?" And here was my answer:

The thing that Loss gave me was Him. Him. When I say that He's been faithful, I mean that He's been Him. For me, and with me, faithfully. This life can and may take everything from you. It can take your job, your family, your home, your reputation, and all of your dreams. And don't be deceived - it WILL take something from you. But the one thing it cannot take from you is Him. So if He is what you desire, if He is the Dreamer of your dreams, then you can never lose what is most important to you.

Sharing this story is dauntingly personal, and yet please know, I'm not seeking sympathy. But rather, my aim in sharing it is for you to see the greater exchange that He offers all of us. Our emptiness for His fullness. Our loss for His presence.

I'm not sure why people term the baby they receive after a loss as a "rainbow baby". Rainbows, to me, are a reminder of God's promises to us. And I was never promised another child. But I am promised Him. Today and every day after into eternity. I may not have gotten the rainbow baby, but I thank God I still get the rainbow.

Emily 

"One thing I ask from the Lord, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the Lord all the days of my life, to gaze on the beauty of the Lord and to seek him in his temple. For in the day of trouble he will keep me safe in his dwelling; he will hide me in the shelter of his sacred tent and set me high upon a rock." Psalm 27:4-5