Happy Birthday Dear One

January 17, 2019—7 months ago this was a date earmarked in my mind as the day we would count down to, the day we would expect to meet our new sweet baby face to face. However, on June 1, 2018 our worst fears were confirmed when the doctor informed us that this hoped for child, the one we held with excitement in our hearts had no beating in his own little heart. That day we sat in a dark exam room staring at a screen with no movement as the world crashed down around us. So many questions raced through my mind as the doctor gave us statistics about 1 out of every 4 pregnancies ending in a similar fashion. As a medical professional, I see these women and know these stories firsthand, but I never imagined becoming one of the statistics myself.

Going through the pain of such a loss, I realized anew that the way we deal with miscarriage and infant loss as a society has much to be desired. Though our child was far from entering this external world, he had already been born in our hearts. However, in order to keep others from feeling awkward or upset, we internalized our pain and only shared with a few close family members in order to elicit their prayers as we dealt with the grief quietly. The experience opened my eyes to the women that I have likely interacted with on a daily basis who were going through similar struggles. I also realized for the first time that the process was both a physical and an emotional one, a physical process that may take weeks to endure. Neither is a wound that heals quickly.

Our American lifestyle has taught us to be self-reliant and self-contained. This keeps us from sharing our pain and grief with those around us. The question “how are you?” is almost always answered with “I’m doing fine, and you?” regardless of the present situation. Why are we so hesitant to open up and let others in? Understandably, private matters don’t always have to be shared via Facebook live, but we should at least be willing to share our burdens with those closest to us. I’ve been reading Letters to the Church by Francis Chan. In it he comments about the design for the Christian church as laid out in Acts.  The original church was characterized by a spirit of familial community and supernatural unity. They shared everything—from breaking bread together to their possessions to the intimate details of their lives. Why have we strayed so far from this example, even in the inner circles of our faith families?

My purpose in sharing this with you now is to open your eyes to the hidden pain of those around you. Our story is certainly not unique, and far more common than many realize. Many families are struggling after unknown loss. There are women around you crying each month as the anticipation for a child is again put off. There are ladies waiting for their love story to be complete so that they can have even a chance to hope for a child. A desire for a growing family was planted deep in each one of us when God first commanded us to be fruitful and multiply. Some are blessed for that command to be fulfilled through biological means, some through adoption, some through extended family and some through those they help shepherd in their spheres of influence. I pray that we become sensitive to those that may be struggling to see this command fulfilled in their own lives.

I also pray that God may open our eyes to the ways in which he is working that may be unexpected. We were blessed soon after losing our second child to learn that we were expecting our third. Not everyone’s story ends the same way. That doesn’t mean that God isn’t faithful. It only means that he may have alternate ways in using you to multiply His influence in this world. May we be open to seeing where he is moving and how we can love those in our lives struggling with their own sight. Just like Sarai, Rachel, Hannah and countless other women mentioned in scripture who struggled in the same way, He sees you even when you can’t see where He is.