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Wednesday, September 16, 2015

Miscarriage after Infertility, Hope after Loss

"Tears may, and must come; but if they gather in eyes that are constantly looking up to God and heaven, they will glisten with the brightness of the coming glory."
~ Susannah Spurgeon


We prayed for 3 years for a baby. In the grand scheme of our lives, it may seem like a short time, but when you are anxiously waiting for something that your heart desires so much, each day crawls by at an agonizingly slow rate.

Almost 3 years to the day, we finally got a positive pregnancy test! We were beyond ecstatic, and there was so much relief and joy and hope in that moment. It was finally happening! After 3 long years, Crohn's, an infertility diagnosis, endometriosis, embryo adoption...we were going to have our baby!

But the moment only lasted 2 days.

At 4 weeks + 5 days, we learned that we were losing our baby {ies}. My beta numbers dropped significantly and the nurse told me there was nothing we could do.

At 5 weeks + 2 days, I miscarried. 

After such a long road of struggling through infertility, this loss was beyond anything I had ever experienced. My baby was there! And then he/she was gone. I felt so empty, so alone. And so angry.

How could the Lord allow this to happen? I know that women suffer miscarriages all the time, and each loss is heartbreaking. I don't at all mean to say that our loss was somehow worse than someone else's {because it wasn't}, but I just could not understand how He could let us experience such loss after all that we had already been through. 

It was hard when we were told we didn't have much of a chance of conceiving on our own. But we knew the Lord loves adoption and that we could pursue building our family that way. It was hard having to "pay for" our babies and prove to the state and the agency that we were good enough to be parents. But we knew that all the paperwork, the inspections, and the waiting would be worth it in the end, we just had to persevere. 

It was hard when we didn't get pregnant on our first transfer. But we knew our chances were low going in. It was hard when we lost 2 embryos to the thawing process, but we were thankful that we knew fairly quickly and that they were no longer frozen. We knew the chances that we would probably only have a successful singleton pregnancy, even though we desperately wanted our twins. It was hard knowing that we would not have any genetic siblings for future transfers, but we held out such hope for this transfer. Surely the Lord would allow us to meet our sweet baby. We had been through so much, we just knew He was going to provide this for us. And He did! We got pregnant! 

But it all ended so quickly. All of that hope and excitement was gone so quickly...

We thought we were being faithful in our decision to adopt embryos, rather than try to create our own {a choice that was best for our family and something we felt the Lord asking us to do}. We thought He wanted us to help provide the best chance at life for the tiny lives that had been created 8 years ago, and that He would, in fact, provide life to them. Or at least to some of them. We never imagined that we would have zero babies in our arms after adopting 6 embryos. We never imagined we would have to say goodbye to all 6 of our babies. 

6 babies. We lost 6 babies.

It just didn't seem fair. Why Lord? Why would He allow this to happen? Because we know that He could have saved our babies. He could have proved the embryologist wrong and shown His glory by providing life to these tiny ones. He could have answered our prayers and provided a baby for us. He could have provided some relief from the heartache we have experienced the past 3 years. He could have even given us a negative pregnancy test so that our joy and hope were not so brutally crushed just 2 days later. He could have...

...and yet He didn't. Instead, He chose to take all 6 of our babies home to be with Him, instead of allowing us to parent them here. He chose to walk us down this road of embryo adoption and be matched with this family, even though He knew we would not be able to grow ours through them. And even though we cannot see it now, He chose to accomplish His purposes through our infertility, and even through our loss.

I will admit: I don't like this plan {at least not right now in this moment}, but He is God, and I am not.

I don't believe the Lord desired infertility for us. I believe that He is just as heartbroken by the grief we have felt the past 3 years. Our infertility has been a tangible reminder of sin and brokenness in this fallen world. But I do believe the Lord has faithfully walked with us through our infertility, and now through our loss. While He could have absolutely saved us from infertility {and saved our babies}, He chose not to intervene, but instead to hold our hand and comfort our hearts. I don't know if I will ever fully understand why this difficult road somehow gave Him more glory, but I know that He is good and that His ways are not our ways. 

Can I trust the Lord after all the grief He has allowed into our lives? Yes, I believe I can, and I will. Is it easy? Absolutely not. It has been the hardest thing I have ever had to do. It is a daily battle of surrender before the Lord. Are we still grieving our loss? Yes, and I will probably grieve my babies every day for the rest of my life. But we do not grieve as those without hope. There is a peace that passes all understanding that He has been faithful to provide to us in these difficult days. 

The fact that I can feel peace and hope after such loss is a testament to the goodness of God. Because it simply doesn't make sense for me to trust Him more now after our loss than I did before it. But that's how I know He hasn't forgotten me and that He won't leave me. It's how I know that He will be faithful to walk with me through the dark days ahead and how He will use the pains of this world to draw me closer to His heart.

My prayer is that He uses our journey to bring glory to His name and point others to the Lord of Life, the Creator, the Sustainer, our Comforter and our Hope.


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