I've shared before about the miscarriages that we had before Eden was born. I had another one in June. For about a year, we tried to have another baby and I experienced a lot of chemical pregnancies- (a very, very early miscarriage). Honestly, we just got to a point where it felt emotionally exhausting to think of riding this monthly roller coaster of hoping and being disappointed. We thought about adoption. Mostly I think I just felt pretty numb, discouraged, and kind of resigned to dwelling on my age and the brokenness of my body.
But a healthy faith doesn't numb out or minimize our desires in order to survive disappointment. For the past decade or so I've wrestled with the thought of what it looks like to have a good theology of suffering and also a Biblical theology of blessing- how to hold these two things in tension.
Surrendering my life to Jesus means taking up my cross to follow Him. It is a call to die to myself, to my dreams and plans- being invited into the safety of trusting Him with things that don't make sense. Sometimes this is a painful road, and following Him doesn't instantly take away all of the brokenness inside me and around me. Scripture gives great comfort that there is great redemption, beauty, and purpose to the worst of suffering in this life. This is not all there is and one day, when there is final restoration, all of the sad things will be made new.
But to surrender my life to Jesus does not just mean suffering. To know Jesus and to live my life with Him is the deepest experience of joy. Because of Him, I have been adopted into the family of God and my good Father has promised that since He already gave Jesus' life for me, he would certainly also, along with Jesus, give me all things I need and would withhold no good thing. He said that His goodness would follow me all the days of my life and that I would see His goodness here, in the land of the living. He wants me to bring Him my desires and to ask Him for things, believing that He cares.
So I don't think a healthy faith that holds these two things in tension could just numb out or minimize desire. Instead, it brings desire to our good Dad but doesn't fall into either the ditch of entitlement or despair. It’s neither the pride of comparing myself to someone who has what I lack, nor the false humility of refusing desire because it feels uncomfortable to hold the tension of God blessing me while others still wait. It trusts that I'm limited in my capacity to see the whole picture, but God isn't. It doesn't bargain with God for outcomes, yet it does not stop expecting His goodness to be real, present, and active. It is a faith mature enough to trust God's heart with whatever happens. In the book of Acts in the Bible, James wasn't freed from prison. He was beheaded. But Peter was miraculously released. I think often of the line from a JJ Heller song that says, "Sometimes I don't know what You're doing, but I know Who You are." I've tasted too much of the goodness of Jesus over the years. I know that no matter what confusing or disappointing season my soul finds itself in, His heart is for me.
In November, someone recommended that I listen to a podcast about miscarriage and infertility called Hannah's Heart. I felt like that was probably about the last thing in the world for which I would care to listen. But one day I just felt compelled to listen anyway. And then I binged it- for like a week.
I think the reason I was drawn to it was because the stories people shared were so real and honest. They weren't all stories with happy endings with Skittles and rainbows falling from the sky and their homes being filled with lots of babies. Some couples shared stories of incredible loss, living for years with unfulfilled longings, or how God used their desire to have children to mold them into beautiful foster parents with such sacrificial love. At the beginning of each episode, there was a tagline that really stood out to me- "This is not a show that's gonna promise you a certain outcome, but this is a show that says, 'However God answers your cry, we know that He is enough.'"
Hearing this tagline over and over again at the start of each episode re-ignited what had felt numb in me. As I listened to each story and heard how God had answered these people in their cries of painful longing and truly was enough for them, I was remembering how God had heard my cries and been enough for me over the years, in other seasons of life besides this season of wanting babies and having miscarriages.
The last post I wrote describes a lot of what I remembered. The week I was binging all of those podcast episodes was the week leading up to the anniversary of my brother Andrew's death. That was probably the darkest and most heart-wrenching, but also the most profound season I've ever experienced of knowing God's nearness and enoughness. It was followed by a season of seeing His goodness, healing, and care for me in ways beyond what I could have ever thought possible. The more I remembered, the more I felt renewed trust to give my good Dad our desires in this season.
Instead of staying numb, I felt His comfort and safety to let myself desire another baby, to not stuff down or kill my desire. But I also felt so much peace. I felt truly, honestly that I could be ok if He never gave us another baby. I really mean that. And it wasn't something I could have just mustered up or willed myself to feel. That peace felt like a gift from the Holy Spirit.
On the anniversary of Andrew's death, November 15th, Will watched Eden for a lot of the day and I went to a coffee shop to write a blog post about that season of life. I wanted to honor Andrew's memory and life and also all that God had been to me then. It was a really sweet day of remembering. It felt worshipful to listen to the songs that had stirred my trust in Jesus so much during that dark time. I felt so in awe of hundreds of ways that I had felt God's goodness to me in the midst of pain.
When I came home that afternoon, I took Eden for a walk in her stroller while Will was doing a project in his woodworking shop. We have a Kroger right in our neighborhood and I just felt compelled for some reason to make a secret purchase and tell Will about it later. We'd had so many months of disappointment. I thought it would just be another negative test again, but I had so much peace. I felt both a confidence that I would be ok if it wasn't positive, and also a strange confidence that this month was different. I took the long way home and walked all through the neighborhood in no hurry. I felt so at rest. I felt the comfort and safety of knowing His heart and character as I played some of the songs that had stirred my trust in Him over the years. Then we got back home.
And the line turned blue right away.
Our healthy second baby girl is due at the end of July.
November 15th became a day of both remembering death and celebrating life.
God answered our cry with life this time. But what I carry most from that day is this: my faith no longer needed to numb desire in order to survive disappointment. Those days re-ignited faith in me that could ask again boldly, surrender honestly, and rest deeply—because His heart toward me has already been proven.
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