“Would you and David like to go to a Christian music concert tonight?” my sister Heidi asked over the phone. “I have two tickets for a ‘surprise’ performer, so I can’t be sure you’ll like it, but I felt like the Lord wanted me to offer them. I’d be happy to bring supper over and watch the kids so you and David could go.”
“I would like to, thank you!” I said. I was still grieving my miscarriage, and hoped God had something for me at the concert.
As we sat waiting for the performer to appear, David spotted an album poster. “I think that’s Plumb!” he said. “This should be really good!”
Plumb entered the room to many cheers, and began singing songs from her latest album, “Exhale.” She’d written beautiful, raw lyrics, and sang them with a meek presence and powerful voice. Then she told how God had recently saved her marriage. Her husband had left and she was devastated, “But,” she said, “a friend told me, ‘Believe in resurrection.’” She and her husband later remarried, and she wrote the song “Resurrection.”
Everything’s gone black
I feel so cold
It’s so dark here
Only You know how deep the darkness goes
You know it all
You’ve heard every thought
No matter what the heart-break
Only You can make it beautiful
I believe in resurrection
Everything that’s dead will come alive
I believe in restoration
Better than before
Stronger and secure
I believe in resurrection
Stones will roll away before my eyes
I believe in new creations
You make all things new
Nothing’s impossible for You
Do you believe in a God who holds the world in His hands?
Do you believe that the story we’re living is not the end?
I loved the song. I knew Jesus could put life back into the baby, and prayed again that He would. I also knew if He didn’t answer my prayer, His ultimate resurrecting power was still at work, resurrecting our baby in heaven. After the concert, I went home and bought the song, and began listening to it over and over. That night, my Bible-reading chapter was John 11, where Jesus raised Lazarus from the dead, ultimately proving His power to resurrect the spirit by resurrecting the body.
I was feeling antsy the next day and decided to pursue another ultrasound. I wanted to know if Jesus had answered my prayer. If not, another ultrasound would give me closure. The hospital ultrasound screen had been angled making it hard to see the baby, and I hadn’t received any pictures. I had some friends who worked at a local pregnancy help center, so I called and explained. They were very empathetic, and their sonographer offered to come in early the next morning to meet me.
The next morning, I clearly saw our baby. Tiny little arm buds, tiny little leg buds, the chambers of the heart that had stopped beating, fluid around the brain showing the decay . . . and a tiny little face. The sonographer printed pictures, then asked to pray with me. The center’s director came in to pray also, and cupped my tear-streaked face in her hands. She pulled her face in close, looked me in the eyes, and poured strength into my spirit as she said with conviction, “The Lord is working.”
A few days later the miscarriage was complete. I wrote this blog post around that time, and started a gratitude journal to try and redirect my sadness. Friends sent sympathy cards telling about their own losses, proving miscarriage is not nearly as lonely as it sometimes feels.
I told David one evening, “I still wonder why that baby died. It’s really difficult not knowing what went wrong.”
“You know, if you think about the development of a baby in the womb, it’s so incredibly complex,” he said. “There are so many processes that have to happen perfectly, and most of the time, they do. Maybe instead of asking, ‘What went wrong?’ we should be asking, ‘How does this go right so much of the time?'”
To be continued . . .
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