When the Lord Takes the Child

One week ago today my wife and I lost a child in the womb.

Glancing into the dining room I see my wife and girls sitting at the table coloring. My oldest will be 6- years-old next week and my second asks two times a day if it’s her birthday yet, to which we remind her that her birthday is in June (4 months away). If the Lord gives us tomorrow, she will ask again.

You would not believe how long of a pause came between that first sentence and the one you are now reading. We’ve known many couples that have had to walk the dreaded path of early pregnancy loss. It probably goes without saying that it’s different to us now that we ourselves have been dragged reluctantly onto this tumultuous way. To celebrate the joyful expectation of a child only to have it followed by the crushing reality that the child cannot come to you is a shock to the system.

Why did this happen?

I’m struggling to write. I’m struggling with my own heart and head. I’m even struggling with the terminology. Surely there is a better term than “miscarriage”? Does “Early pregnancy loss” sound better? There has to be a more accurate description than “loss”. We are feeling loss for the loss of the child, but does that convey a certain air of hopelessness? How do I express my hurt, my trust in the sovereignty of God, and my confusion accurately? What do I do when those things conflate, overtake one another, wax and wane?

You are probably asking (I assume this because it’s the same question I always have) How old was the baby? The baby was only 6 weeks along.

Only.

What a strange application of that word when concerning the loss of a child. “The child was ONLY 6 weeks old”, some well-meaning person might say. Even, “You are lucky the little one wasn’t further along.” It may sound strange but I believe that. When looking for silver linings behind the cloud I would have to say I’m glad it happened at 6 weeks rather than 9 months. Something about the connection with the child is different. Intellectually speaking, I think it must be less painful to lose a 6-week-old in the womb than to lose a 2-year-old toddler. Some may disagree but I believe that to be the case for me. Yet, paradoxically, being told that by others brings frustration. As if I have permission to believe it but others don’t have permission to say it. Sometimes it feels like I’m encroaching on the suffering of others by mourning the loss of person I never knew when so many have suffered objectively worse.

Interruption: While writing, my youngest crawled over and wanted to be held. He and I both have nasty colds that we have been fighting all week. Some strain of man-flu. I scooped him up, croaked out a couple of John Denver songs (y’all know that boy loves John Denver), and now he is off to splash in the bath under mama’s supervision. What a joy that kid is. Even when he is sick he is happy – which is more than I can say for his dad. Anyway, back at it.

I suppose every parent reacts differently to these situations. I’ve known men and women that have championed through with great faith and others that have been nearly destroyed by the loss. In the last week I have wrestled with several things. These are in no particular order.

Praying

I have found prayer more difficult over the last week than I have in my entire life. When we first suspected something was wrong with the pregnancy I immediately jumped into fasting and prayer. This is not unusual for me and it shouldn’t be unusual to any believer. I don’t say that to draw attention or to seem more holy than I really am, but simply to say that fasting and prayer shouldn’t be an abnormal response for the Christian in times of suffering. Fasting is always spoken of by Jesus in terms of “When you” not “If you” (Matthew 6:16).

After a few days we received confirmation that the Lord had taken the child. The best I could I tried to cauterize the ache in my heart with the words of King David, “He said, ‘While the child was still alive, I fasted and wept, for I said, ‘Who knows whether the Lord will be gracious to me, that the child may live?’ But now he is dead. Why should I fast? Can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he will not return to me.” (2 Samuel 12)

I had prayed. The Lord had answered, “No.”

Interruption: Time for Hudson to go to bed. Boogery kisses for dad and his sisters. Off he goes to dream little baby dreams.

As I look back over my Christian life so many of my prayers have been answered in the affirmative that this answer has me in a bind. I certainly don’t doubt that God is good and I trust Him fully but it is hard to see how this thing will work together for good (Romans 8:28). I know it will, I just don’t see it yet.

Prayer has been difficult. If anything it has been the simple cries of Psalm 13, “How long, O Lord?”

Lamenting “What could have been”

This is one of the strangest parts for me. How can I miss someone that I never knew? How can I feel such lament over “What could have been.” My presumption about tomorrow has been met with the icy hand of a sin-sick and fallen world – death. Here is something I feel bad about - I had plans for this child. I was already thinking about buying a mini-van and how to accommodate the little potato in deer camp this year. I know that it is pointless to ponder on what the child may have been like, but I cannot keep myself from doing it.

As I’ve thought about it, maybe its similar … opp. Interruption: time for the girls to head off to bed. “Good night, dad! Love you!” *kisses* maybe its similar to having a winning lottery ticket. Not a little one, a BIG one. A life-changing one. As you make your way to venue that will distribute your billions of dollars you would be running through a list of all the ways your life is about to change. The joy of expectancy would be carrying you on a cloud. Then, through no fault of your own, you lose the ticket. What was yours is now gone. What was life-changing is now crushing. The illustration probably breaks down and I certainly do not condone gambling, but the sense of “What could have been” still lingers.

The “Why?” of the situation

I know I have mentioned this before. I am a planner. I like to know what I am getting into. I like to know how things work and why they work. The “why” has caused me great heartache over this last week. Being confronted with the reality that this doesn’t have to make sense to me has been hard. God does not owe men an explanation. I trust Him.

I trust Him.

I have to keep saying it, I trust Him.

Lord, I believe. Help my unbelief.

Conclusion: Afflicted but Not Crushed

I am a man surrounded by blessing. Enveloped by a God who loves me, provides for me, and has my best in mind. My wife. My Children. My Family and Church Family (who have been amazing through this process by the way). My home. My brothers in Christ who have held my arms up in the battle when I couldn’t (cue someone saying, “You’re Not Moses!”), encouraged me, and prayed for me. Thank you to those of you who have had the courage to remind me of what I already know – the truths of scripture! As a side, get yourself some friends that will boldly and lovingly give you scripture instead of tropes.

Our God is Good – “The Lord is good, a stronghold in the day of trouble; he knows those who take refuge in him.” (Nahum 1:7)

Our hurting isn’t without hope – “Brothers and sisters, we do not want you to be uninformed about those who sleep in death, so that you do not grieve like the rest of mankind, who have no hope. For we believe that Jesus died and rose again, and so we believe that God will bring with Jesus those who have fallen asleep in him. According to the Lord’s word, we tell you that we who are still alive, who are left until the coming of the Lord, will certainly not precede those who have fallen asleep. For the Lord himself will come down from heaven, with a loud command, with the voice of the archangel and with the trumpet call of God, and the dead in Christ will rise first. After that, we who are still alive and are left will be caught up together with them in the clouds to meet the Lord in the air. And so we will be with the Lord forever. Therefore encourage one another with these words. (1 Thessalonians 4:13-18)

I will see my baby in Glory – “But now that he is dead, why should I go on fasting? Can I bring him back again? I will go to him, but he will not return to me.” (2 Samuel 12:23)