I was driving home from work when I realized how fast the world is turning. I was going 50 in a 45 but all the cars around me were passing me in a blur of color and it hit me.
This morning, after a few weeks of inner-conflict, I scrapped my 9 chapters a day Bible reading plan. I was almost two months behind because when I got pregnant I slept when I would otherwise read my Bible. But I thought I could still catch up. So when I miscarried I was still determined to do it. Three times by New Year. But reading Job didn’t fill me up. It didn’t make sense of my present circumstance. I just wanted to read the Gospels again. But I couldn’t go back on my word.
So I avoided reading the Bible. I didn’t want to read Job or Exodus. They weren’t speaking to my need. I longed to see Jesus’ words and miracles again. But I felt so guilty. I felt deeply obligated to make myself busy in the Word. But as my life has seemed to the past three weeks, I felt the need to
Slowly. Because when you lose someone precious to you, sometimes it feels like you have stopped but everyone around you has kept going. And fitting 45 plus minutes of legalistically reading the Word into my otherwise slowed-to-accommodate-my-heart life just made things too hectic.
I stopped at a red light and cars in the lanes on either side rushed through the red light, hoping to get past before the cross traffic began. Why does everyone go so fast all the time? It never seemed so hurried before.
David told me that earlier. Slow down and go deeper. Breathe it in. The good, the bad, and everything in between. It is all allowed by God and I can choose how to respond. I can choose to slow down and find the joy in every moment.
I wrote this a week and a half ago. But I wanted to post it – perhaps it will speak to someone. Perhaps it will just speak to me.
Warning: there is graphic material in this post.
I learned something this week that I thought I already knew: miscarrying is hard.
Growing up, I watched my mom miscarry three times and then experience the loss of a child born too soon. That is four losses of children she nurtured and grew in her womb. It was hard on us kids, too. We had grown accustomed to leaning in close to her belly and saying things like “when you get big, I am going to teach you how to play soccer” or “if you need any help with your schoolwork, I’ll help you” or we would read stories to the baby in mama’s belly. And then… one day, she would come and tell us that baby went home to Jesus. It was hard then, too.
But now I know what it is like to enjoy the excitement of preparing “house” for a baby. I would to talk to him throughout the day, tell him what I was thinking or feeling. I would tell him how much his daddy and I love him.
But in what now feels like an instant, he went home to Jesus. I went from this (maternity shorts)
the afternoon of the night I miscarried to this (skinny jeans that haven’t fit for weeks)
today. Miscarriage is hard for a few reasons. The first reason is the most obvious: the loss of a precious child. I went from pregnant mama to … not. It brings an emptiness with it. David described the feeling best when he said it is a profound loneliness. There was the presence of a baby and now there is not. We went from three to two in a matter of hours. We grieve not getting to know our precious baby or what he would have gotten to accomplish. I personally grieve not getting to see him smile and laugh for the first time. All those precious firsts.
The other reason is less obvious unless you have been through it yourself. When you miscarry, you essentially go into “mini” labor. And you give birth to a lifeless child and then bleed and are in pain for a week or more. That first night, I didn’t know I miscarried until I held my baby in my hand. And then every day since then, I have had to endure cramps and pains and my body pushing out chunks of placenta. Not only is it emotionally hard to lose a baby, it is hardwork. There is no escape from the reminder: there will be no baby born in February.
Having seen my mother miscarry time and time again, I knew it was hard. But now I know. And most women miscarry at least once. There are many women in my life who have miscarried. And I didn’t know until this week. And many women endure some sort of depression after miscarrying. My mama lost her last baby when I was sixteen and she is still suffering emotionally. It is hard.
That being said, people haven’t known what to do when I say I am okay. Yes, I go through moments of sadness or pregnancy envy. Some moments are more intense than others. But God has been so gracious to me. He has given me the ability to recognize that He is in control and that He has a plan. And, most importantly, whatever happens, He has not abandoned or forsaken me. He didn’t just steal my baby away, baby Peter wasn’t mine to be stolen. I was just the keeper and protector until God called him home. It just happened before I expected or desired.
Something that God showed me this past week while talking to my new friend Janice, the wife of the head pastor of the church where I am working, is that we are to trust Him despite all circumstances. Psalm 46 says “God is our refuge and strength, an ever-present help in trouble. Therefore we will not fear, though the earth give way…” look at that closely. “We will not fear, though the earth give way….” It doesn’t say “if for some reason the earth gives way I guess we shouldn’t be afraid.” It says that even though this is happening now, we won’t be afraid. Whatever may come, God is our refuge and strength. The psalm comes to a conclusion with this strong, yet comforting command: “Be still and know that I am God….” Or as I like to look at it sometimes: “Stand back and let me be God.” And then again in 2 Corinthians 12:9 “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Bad things happen. But that is the perfect opportunity to lean back into God and let Him carry you, providing you the strength you need moment by moment. Those moments of trusting despite the circumstances are life defining.
When I was almost two, I broke my right leg in three places. Anyone who has broke a bone, especially like that, knows that as it heals, the bone gets longer due to the way the healing process occurs. By the time all was said and done, my right leg was an inch longer than my left. God has shown me throughout my life, through loss and other painful experiences, that similarly when we experience hardship but allow Jesus to enter the situation, He will grow our hearts as He heals them, giving us greater capacity to love and be loved. To have compassion, which literally means “to feel with”. And he showed me that the more pain we endure, the more we look like God. Jesus endured indescribable pain on the cross in our stead. If He trusts me with this pain, I will take it in stride because I know I now have a greater capacity to show compassion, to be Jesus to someone in need.
Miscarriage is hard and I have shed more tears than I knew my body could produce. I hope to never endure it again. But God makes all things good in His love and His mercies are new every morning.
Now because of this immeasurable grace I have been shown, I can stand here before you today and say it is well. It is well with my soul.
As you know, we announced the upcoming arrival of our little blessing, Baby Parvu or “Baby Bear”, earlier than most couples choose to. There is a reason for that.
A couple days before our first anniversary, I started bleeding. Not a lot, but consistently for twelve or so hours. We assumed the worst (thankfully) and thought I was miscarrying. Now, when it started, we were literally heading out the door for our camping trip. Being young, never-before expectant parents, we decided the only thing we could really do was wait it out. I had my first prenatal visit (an intake visit, really) scheduled for the following Monday so we decided just to see what happened. … I am so glad that we assumed the worst. We went on the camping trip and prayed and comforted each other and just relaxed. If Baby had died, we would have been okay. Sad, but excited for future children.
So when we got to my prenatal appointment, we were pretty somber. The nurse told us that there wasn’t really much they could do right then to confirm or deny a miscarriage, but that if we wanted an answer before Friday, we should go to the ER (which was conveniently down the hall). Guess which we chose. … And thus began the longest day of my life.
I had an ultrasound. They weren’t expecting to find anything at all, let alone a perfectly healthy baby with the strongest heartbeat they’ve seen in a baby that young. Baby was so small that it looked like the whole body was the heart beating. I was so happy, so relieved – I couldn’t wait to get back to my room so I could tell David and show him the picture the tech printed for me. As we were sitting there, ecstatic, our ER doctor came back and sat down with a concerned look on her face.
“Based on your pictures, it looks like you are having an ectopic pregnancy,” she said. (Or something like that.) For those of you who don’t know, an ectopic pregnancy is where the baby implants anywhere but the uterus. The medical solution for this is always (or at least almost always) abortion. They won’t use that word, but that is really what it is. She asked that we go to the main hospital across town to consult with an OB. So. We did.
We met with two OBs, a man and a woman, and they made it clear that, to them, I was the most important person in the situation. Not David. Not Baby. Me. I understand that I am important in the situation, but not Baby? That sickened us a bit. They had me stay overnight for observation and for another ultrasound in the morning. So we prayed and prayed and prayed (and others prayed with us, without details… just that God would move!). They wouldn’t let David stay with me and had me in a room with a woman who threw up all night long. This was not fun for three reasons. 1. If you know me, you know that just thinking about vomit grosses me out. A lot. 2. Being pregnant has given me a much, much better gag reflex. I had a good one before. (I couldn’t swallow medicine in pill or capsule form until I was in my teens. And that was after my mom spent years trying to teach me how to swallow in such a way that I wouldn’t gag or choke.) 3. I can’t sleep at night without David next to me. I don’t know why.
I did not sleep.
Early in the morning, three nervous, green doctors came in and told me that they had ruled it as ectopic and were just waiting for a confirmation before they “discussed my options” with me. (D&C, shot that stops DNA reproduction, ect….) I was so mad that I just glared at them and said, “I stayed overnight for an ultrasound.” They got this deer in the headlights look in their eyes and stuttered out something along the lines of “Oh, well, uh… we will go check to see if that is true….” An hour later, two of the came back with an old, paternal looking OB who sat down on my bed and patted my shin, saying, “Everything is going to be okay. I think you are having a safe pregnancy. I just need a confirmation from radiology. I just emailed him your pictures from yesterday and he should be calling any minute.” His phone rang. Radiology. He leaned in so I could hear what the man on the phone was saying.
“I don’t know what you guys were thinking, of course it is a safe pregnancy, albeit abnormally placed. Why did you keep her overnight?? Send her home!”
The paternal OB kept patting my leg and started encouraging me using various scriptures, such as Matthew 6:25-34 and Psalm 23. It was really encouraging.
So, in the end, they did not do another ultrasound. They sent me home where I slept for a long time. God is faithful. We think that He moved Baby down in me but also in the pictures. This has also given us the ability to see Baby’s growth progress more frequently than most expectant parents. (I am only 11-ish weeks and I have had THREE ultrasounds. So cool.) We are also very encouraged to know that everything is 100% A-okay. =]
If for some reason, you stumble across this someday, we are so excited to meet you!! You bring us such joy and just the thought of getting to hold you in my arms in a 6 months takes my breath away.
We love you and are praying for you.
For the past year, I have been praying for a specific kind of job. You see, when I was a kid, I was raised by an all-star super-mom who did everything within her ability to make ends meet. She even found a job where she could bring us to work with her at one point in time. Looking back, that meant a lot to me. My mom was always a strong pillar in my life while I was growing up. And there was something … safe about being there with her.
So, since I have gotten married, I have been praying for a job where I can bring a baby. (I think the plan is to keep working until baby number two comes along?) And as you all know, Baby Parvu (number one) is on the way, expected to arrive in February! With us moving across the country in a few months, I have begun praying more for that flexible job. I specifically want a church job, though I wouldn’t complain if I landed a music job, either. ;) So when David emailed me all excited last Friday saying that there is a church in the area that is hiring a new administrative assistant, I immediately applied. I know that we are leaving really soon, but if I were to have a job like that… well? It would possibly open doors once we move. I wasn’t expecting to get the job. But, God has some crazy plan that I don’t understand. Clearly, I am not upset about the outcome. ;)
When I was driving to the interview, I asked God to give me an answer on the job that day, not the day after or later in the week. Well, the interview went really well – I enjoyed myself and everyone seemed to like me, but I went home without an answer. All of the five minutes home, I thanked God for giving me hope. (Because He showed me that He is listening. I mean, I knew, but sometimes a sign is encouraging. You know?) I thought I wasn’t going to get it. But ten minutes after I left, they called and offered me the job. Knowing that I am both pregnant and moving.
God is good. Isn’t He? =]
I know most of you know this already, but I love baking. Especially bread, so David and I decided that we should have the opportunity to bake 24/7 for 9 months.
Bun in the oven!
This picture is from last week. I am now about eight weeks.
Later this week or next, I hope to write about some cool things that have happened so far. Our baby has a TESTIMONY! People have experienced healing hearing about what God has done and I am excited to share with you, too.
Love you guys!
I have been thinking a lot about risk. What is the cost of following Jesus?
“’Behold, I am sending you out as sheep in the midst of wolves, so be wise as serpents and innocent as doves. Beware of men, for they will deliver you over to courts and flog you in their synagogues, and you will be dragged before governors and kings for my sake, to bear witness before them and the Gentiles. When they deliver you over, do not be anxious how you are to speak or what you are to say, for what you are to say will be given to you in that hour. For it is not you who speak, but the Spirit of your Father speaking through you. Brother will deliver brother over to death, and the father his child, and children will rise against parents and have them put to death, and you will be hated by all for my name’s sake. But the one who endures to the end will be saved. When they persecute you in one town, flee to the next, for truly, I say to you, you will not have gone through all the towns of Israel before the Son of Man comes.
‘A disciple is not above his teacher, nor a servant above his master. It is enough for the disciple to be like his teacher, and the servant like his master. If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household.’” Matthew 10:16-25
Most of the 12 disciples were martyred. People who followed Jesus whole-heartedly are sometimes (some would even say often) called to literally give up their lives for His name’s sake.
I am going to be real with you.
That terrifies me.
I desire to be like “the disciple Jesus loved” who stayed at the foot of the cross until the end (John 19:25-27). I long to have that kind of loyalty. To be able, to desire, to stay at the foot of the cross on which the one I love so deeply is hanging despite the risk of imprisonment, torture, death. But I hate. I detest. I loathe pain. For some silly reason, I am afraid of death.
Why? I know my future. God is faithful and true to His word. He said that those who believe in Him will have life in Him forevermore (John 3:16). I believe! I love! And I’d like to think that in the face of death I would cry, “Lord, do not hold this sin against them!” Just like Stephen did while being stoned to death (Acts 7:60). I am pretty sure I could do it, but it still terrifies me.
But… think about it: if you know God, if you believe in and love Him, you get to spend eternity with Him! How glorious and wonderful is that?! I think of all the wonderful things I experience in this life… even my amazing marriage, loving family, fun adventures, and daily joys – they don’t even stand to compare with the awe and joy I will experience in heaven. So, why do I fear?
“And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul. Rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father. But even the hairs of your head are all numbered. Fear not, therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows. So everyone who acknowledges me before men, I also will acknowledge before my Father who is in heaven, but whoever denies me before men, I also will deny before my Father who is in heaven.” Matthew 10:28-33
God, in His infinite wisdom, was prepared for me. He knew that I would be afraid so He had the nerve to call me out on it. It says it right there: “And do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul…” and comes to a wonderful, peaceful ending with: “Whoever denies me before men, I also will deny…” Okay. In other words, if I don’t quench this puerile fear and instead allow it to hold my heart captive, when I stand before the throne, no matter how much good I did, Jesus will tell His Father He doesn’t know me.
And if I don’t learn to have courage in the face of adversity, I will never be able to truly step out into the life as a follower of Christ. It is that adversity that may someday have me staring in the face of death.
So this is my new challenge – learning to live like dying is gain. Because it is.