It’s not an easy topic for me.

But it is what I’m living with day after day.  And in my naivete I thought it would be easier.

Not that being pregnant now isn’t a blessing.  Not that it isn’t exciting and wonderful and anticipatory.  It is.  And I thank God for it.

But it’s also scarier.  Like the shine has come off of the penny.  And it’s more real– less myopic, if that makes any sense.

Strangely enough the easiest person to talk to about the new baby is my 5-year-old daughter Eliza.  Probably because every single time we talk about the new baby in mommy’s tummy, when we end, she always finishes up by saying, “if this one doesn’t die.”

All our plans and hopes and speculation may happen, “if this baby doesn’t die.”  She couldn’t be more right.  She acknowledges and actually speaks out loud what I am thinking most of the time and don’t have the guts to say.

Plus, by saying, “if this baby lives,” she is remembering the baby who didn’t live.  Not many people do that.  I’m sure it would be a hard thing to do, if you’re a friend.  But, I’ll speak for myself when I say, remembering matters.  It’s validating, albeit sad, to fill out a form at the doctor that lists this pregnancy as my 5th, even though, if/when this baby is born it will be my 4th child to bring home.  It’s validating, because, at least in some small clinical way, it’s remembering.

Remembering with words matters.  Speaking things out loud matters.

What a gift to me that Eliza gets it.  And what a gift that she isn’t taking this new one for granted.  She doesn’t pray for it to be a girl or a boy.  She just prays that he or she will live (although, without realizing it she’s started to refer to the baby as “her”).

I pray the same thing as Eliza.  And I spend a lot of time praying that God would make me treasure Him so much, that somehow, if I lost another, I would grab hold of Him in the darkness, and be willing to trust that He is good.  Again.

Tomorrow is my 16 week checkup.  This baby is more than twice as old as the last one lived to be.  What an impact those short weeks of life and subsequent death had on me.  They have made me more thankful and less entitled about the past 16 weeks of new life.

Romans 8:18

“For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed in us.”

Everybody has rough days.  Hard days.  Painful days.  Difficult days.

It’s one of the things every human has in common, isn’t it?  It’s easy to become myopic on these days.

Lately I’ve been trying to recognize what God’s grace looks like in my life on these difficult days.  Intellectually I know that God’s grace may very well be the difficulty.  But in the midst of it, I rarely feel this.   Although knowing it does make a huge difference.

Anyway, today I’m making a small list of how God’s grace is felt by me in the hard moments.. sometimes moments that string along for days or weeks.

1) I feel God’s grace when my 5-yr-old daughter sees my difficulty and ministers to me by offering to play with her younger sister in the other room.  Thank you Lord.

2) I feel God’s grace through a husband who’s willing to do whatever it takes to make sure his wife is well-cared for.

3) I feel God’s grace when phone call from a stranger jars me out of some unhelpful thoughts and unwittingly reveals that my life is really a string of blessing upon blessing.

4) I feel God’s grace in Advil Liquid Gels.

5) I feel God’s grace in a messy house that is evidence that we have friends who like us enough to come to our home and stay for a few hours.  I wish it lasted longer.

6) I feel God’s grace in a schedule that is empty today, but full tomorrow, and keeps me from drowning at home.

7) I feel God’s grace in the ministry of His Word.  It is powerful.  It is active.  It contains the power and Person of the Gospel, which I need.  Everyday.

8) I feel God’s grace in the gift of prayer.  The Spirit and the Lord Jesus make it possible for me to pray to God the Father.  They cover me and utter for me.  They bring me to the throne of a Tender Father, not a wrathful one.

9) I feel God’s grace in the sun heating up my back as I type this.  And a house with many windows that lets it stream in.  And when I’m done I will turn around and soak it in on my face and my eyeballs.

10) I feel God’s grace in that, when I sat down, I only had 4 or 5 things to list as His felt grace for today, but He is faithful in showing me many more.  More than I could ever record.

How are you experiencing His grace today?

I think a lot of miscarriages happen with little said or done.

Many women miscarry before they’ve had the chance to tell family and friends that they’re pregnant.  And so, after the loss of their little ones, they soldier on.  The baby is remembered mainly in the heart of a grieving mother.

For me, it’s helpful to have physical reminders of the little one who’s no longer with us.  It helps me to keep from feeling like I’m grieving for something small and insignificant.

A visible physical reminder says, “Yes, there was a baby in you.  Yes, you did carry him or her.  Yes, you had a lifetime of love for that little one.  Yes, the baby was taken away in a physically painful and heart-wrenching way.  It was all real.  It happened.”

And I want to remember that baby.  I want to remember the happy months of that pregnancy.

So, I have two ways of doing that.  I didn’t come up with either way.

The first is something my friend told me she does.  She keeps a memory box of everything relating to the babies no longer with her.  I keep my things in a file.  Sympathy cards that people have given me, special emails printed out, congratulations from when we announced we were expecting.  Anything tangible that relates to the baby goes in my file.

The second is a tree that my parents bought for us and my dad came and planted in our yard.  It’s a white blossoming crabapple.  (And yes, I will dig it up and take it with us if we ever move).  It was a very thoughtful gesture by my dad and it means a lot to me.

The kids helped plant it and after they were done Tom read most of Psalm 139 for us and prayed.  It’s been helpful for the kids in understanding what happened.  They know the baby in my tummy died, and our baby tree helps them remember it in a sweet and sad way; remembering and honoring.

And I’m hoping that as the tree grows and blooms it will be a sweeter remembrance to me than it is now.  A reminder of a gift that was given only for a short time, but of eternal value.

I think when difficulties/trials/catastrophes/sufferings are brought to bear on our lives, an apt message to preach to our own soul is always, “Repent!”

It’s so offensive.  And the message seems to rub salt in the wound.  It’s kind of like, “Hey, I am enduring a terrible loss, the last thing I need to do is be reminded that I’m a terrible sinner.”

And, for many, it seems to imply that if only we had repented sooner, the calamity would not have happened, so then guilt follows, as if we caused the calamity.  (For instance, if I hadn’t made an idol of my children, the Lord wouldn’t have taken one away).

But not everyone who loses a child has made an idol of them.  So, what then?  Is the message still “repent”?  And I think it is.  God’s purposes in the trials He brings to us are beyond finding out.  And I believe the purposes are vast, not singular.  And I also believe that for those who are in Christ, they are always good purposes.

[Sidebar: I am NOT advocating that friends who see another friend experience a trial immediately respond with the message, "Repent!" Bad form!  We don't want to end up like Job's "friends."  And if you are prone to pointing out the reasons why a certain trial has befallen a friend (unless there is obvious consequence-producing sin), think twice.  God's ways are unsearchable.  Humble yourself, you may be next.]

Repentance is always good for us and we’re always in need of it.

Shortly after I found out I was pregnant with the little one that the Lord took at 8 weeks, I wrote this:

“Not all calamities and sufferings are given for the specific cause of jerking us out of rebellion.  But I dare say that all calamities and suffering should have the effect of causing us to draw nearer to God.

So, I’m praying now, as things are good and blessings flow like water and honey in my life, that I’ll think now about how to respond when calamity comes.  That I’ll get a footing for the hard times that I may one day face.

And that my footing will be in the Word and in Jesus Christ, the one Mediator between God and man, without whom, meeting my Maker would be more fearsome than any earthly calamity.”

How often the Lord has brought this to mind as I wage war against being engulfed by sorrow.  I preach to myself, “Repent!  Draw near to God.  Get your footing in the Word.  Gaze at the cross.  Do not fear the loss of a child, fear the Lord and love Him.”

[Pastor John has some thoughts on repentance and tornadoes today..]

My dad just had another article published in World Magazine.

It’s called, A Grief Conserved, and I recommend it.

Here’s how it begins:

“Something’s wrong with this baby,” my ultrasound technician told me. She had just scanned Mrs. Jones (a fictitious name) at 20 weeks and went on to describe her findings, findings that surely meant little chance of survival for that baby. As I later spoke with Mrs. Jones to relay the findings, she wept. I arranged an appointment with a maternal-fetal medicine (MFM) specialist.

The next day I received an urgent call from my patient. Through more tears, she described her visit in which the MFM doctor confirmed the grim prognosis. The baby would die, probably within a week or two. The MFM insisted on scheduling her for an abortion in three days. “Do I have to have an abortion?” she asked. I promised to call the MFM and assured her she did not have to abort.

The reality of unborn babies with fatal genetic abnormalities often goes un-talked about.  At least it seems that way to me.  I think it’s worth considering, especially for those of us who have had no reason to consider it: how we would handle a baby in utero that will almost inevitably die prior to birth?

The article continues:

“But what happens when a routine 20-week ultrasound shows a baby with a profound abnormality, possibly an abnormality that will certainly result in the death of the baby prior to or shortly after birth? Or when a genetic test is done and shows similar results and the patient then decides against abortion? What then?

Enter perinatal hospice, the brain child of Byron Calhoun, a pro-life maternal-fetal medicine specialist.

Perinatal hospice honors life. The woman carrying the disabled child receives extensive counseling and birth preparation involving the combined efforts of MFM specialists, OB/GYN doctors, neonatologists, anesthesia services, chaplains, pastors, social workers, labor and delivery nurses, and neonatal nurses. She carries the pregnancy to its natural conclusion. She and her husband are allowed to grieve and prepare for the short time God may grant them with their child while their baby lives inside or outside the womb. Such a process obviates the grief caused by elective abortion, killing the child before it could be born.

I think perinatal hospice is something worth knowing about and relaying to your friends.  We cannot know what the Lord may have in store for us.  Take a minute and read the rest of the article.  Here’s the last clip I’ll offer:

“Even those mystified by a patient choosing life have recognized the value of Calhoun’s idea, as perinatal hospice programs now dot the nation. But this mystery is no mystery to us. As Job 1:21 states, “Naked I came from my mother’s womb, and naked shall I return. The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord.”