Reflecting on a lost pregnancy.

I realize that the timing on this post may seem odd to some. And perhaps it is. All I know is that for whatever reason, while doing dishes today, I felt that it was time.

When our due date first came and went I wasn’t ready to share. My mother came down that weekend and was a blessing in so many ways. I don’t think it was until we sat down the morning she left and talked about my lost one that I truly felt free to grieve.

As time passed and my dear nephew was born I hesitated to share. I didn’t want to mar such a beautiful time for them by bringing attention to myself. This is their first child and they deserved to bask in his beauty and perfectness. (And he is oh so perfect!)

And so here we are, six weeks past the day my little “George” was due, and I am finally ready to share with you all some of what this experiences has been to me. Perhaps some of you wonder why I share at all. I myself have even wondered that. And all I can say is that I share these thoughts in the hopes that someday some where they will bring encouragement to someone else in the same place.

Through this experience I have an increased awareness of the sorrow in those around me that struggle with conceiving. After two unexpected pregnancies it was hard to fully understand what these women I loved were going through. While I can never claim to fully understand the pain these amazing women must live with, I am slightly more aware of the bitter sweetness so many of life moments must hold for them. I pray God will use this to make me more aware in my words and actions that I will not bring any added pain to these women.

The irony in this whole situation is that after being surprised by three pregnancies, Josh and I have been unable to grow our family again. Before we were married I was told I may have difficulties conceiving. After thee surprise pregnancies this seemed almost a joke.  We laughed out how little doctors new. And yet here we are 7 months later, still not pregnant. And so I am left with so many questions. Perhaps the doctors were right all along?  Maybe my two angles are miracles? Maybe God does not see fit to bless us with more?

So often when women share their miscarriage stories with me the end with “but then God gave us so-and-so.” Yet here I, and so many women I know, are months out from our loss still waiting on the “but then.” With the doctors words echoing in my head I am forced to face the fact that my “but then” may not be another child. My “but then” may simply be healing, and peace, and other opportunities that God puts in place.  Dreams I wouldn’t be able to pursue if I were tending a new infant. Or perhaps my “but then” is simply waiting, till I have learned a few more lessons on parenting and grace.

All I know for certain is that I have learned how much I love being a mother.  In grieving the child that I lost I have come to appreciate that much more the two that I get to watch grow. While I still take pleasure in pursuing things out side of motherhood, being mama to Bear and Goose means so much more than it used to. Each emotional, spiritual, and physical milestone they hit feels like that much more of a triumph. Motherhood came so early in our marriage that I often felt like I was barely keeping up. It wasn’t something that happened to me rather than something I sought out. That has changed now and I feel myself embracing and valuing this role so much more.

I have come to realize how true it is that the Lord knows my hearts desires so much more than I do. As a young woman mothering was never high on my list of dreams. Through this I have come to realize how much it means to me. How much fuller my life is because of it. I am so thankful that the Lord so fit to disregard my own plans and set me on the path He had written for me.

And so

I am learning live with the questions, hopefully with grace.

I am learning to be more aware of the hurt in those around me.

I am learning often joy and grief  must live in harmony.

And I am learning that my Lord is on His throne so it is well with my soul.