God Makes Everything Beautiful

Although a terribly neglected blog, I remain thankful that it preserves many precious thoughts and lessons.  My last post, now over a year old, was so rich to reread today.  God had really been teaching me and months of lessons culminated in our vacation and that entry.

Now, thirteen months later I can say that I have remained in God's "School for Saints."  I hope to never stop learning.  But I would not have ever asked for my lessons to come in such sad presentations.

(Apparently I had already started to write about this event last year and just posted it today upon it's discovery...but I've decided to post this version too and hope to ultimately add to it, bringing this blog up to date.)

When we travelled to the Gulf last May I was pregnant with one who we hoped was to be our tenth child.  Up to that time we had experienced three very early miscarriages and being forty-one I suspected that we shouldn't feel certainty about meeting any more of our children until we arrive in Heaven.  The first three miscarriages preceded each of our last three born children.  So we were developing a certain pattern: an early miscarriage followed shortly by a healthy pregnancy and baby and it all happened within two years of the birth of the last child.  Yep, it was definitely a great place for God to redirect ny hope from being placed upon a certain pattern in life to truly placing my faith in God's sufficiency everyday, come what may.

In May 2012, the bleeding started, but since many recent pregancies had included some bleeding but the babies remained safe, I didn't react with much concern.  I was 10 1/2 weeks along and had not seen my doctor yet so I went for my first appointment.  No heartbeat was heard with the office doppler (and this was not alarming to me either due to the age of the baby) so I was sent to the hospital for an ultrasound. 

On the morning of my appointment I had began to cry out to God about the situation as I noticed the bleeding had increased.  While driving to the office I praised him (along with Chris Tomlin) at the top of my voice proclaiming that nothing can stand against me because God is for me.  I committed the baby and my day to God, and promised to praise Him no matter.

At the hospital I was tempted to feel sorry for myself and even respond emotionally or rudely to the folks who were just doing their jobs by treating me like a cow on a cattle drive.  But as I studied the faces of the others who came in and out of the hospital and those waiting with me I felt compassion for them.  I was seemingly the healthiest person in the building, even if a child had died inside of me.  And with nine healthy children safely at home, to whom I would return, I felt like the most blessed of anyone I saw that morning.  So I prayed for the others.  I prayed until I recognized a neighbor and moved near him to inquire about his visit.  He explained that his wife was having some testing and I told him that I would be praying for her.  He is the sort of neighbor that I waved at as I walk by.  We don't even know each other's names.  They don't go to church and he didn't speak of faith or God.  I accepted it as a sign that God wanted to intersect His day. 

In the ultrasound room I learned that I had a ten week placenta and sac but no baby!  At that point I didn't care what their latest term was for this sadness.  I was shocked.  Disappointed.  Ultimately angry.  But God never left me there to wallow for even a second.  My eyes drifted over to a drawer in the room labeled "biopsy supplies" and again I was reminded of how blessed I was that I had come to inquire about a baby and not a disease.

After having a miscarriage at home at only 7 weeks that bordered dangerous in terms of bleeding, I agreed quickly with my doctor who suggested a D and C under anesthesia in the OR that evening.  I confirmed that I had not eaten in a few hours and would not eat or drink again until after the surgery.  Then I worked to retrieve my husband from work in time to be at my appointment in the surgical unit.

Having been pro-life all my life I was aware that the procedure I was going to undergo was essentially the same as an abortion except that I was agreeing to help my body rid itself of something that wasn't likely to come naturally without great risk.  I still didn't care for the idea but since there was a baby's body to contend over, intellectually I was able to move forward.  God's peace was lavished upon me as I counted the potential cost of not surviving the surgery.

In the surgical unit I was treated like a queen and Bob and I were able to testify of our faith and passion about raising and educating our children for the Lord's purposes.  One of my nurses was a dear friend's next-door neighbor and therefore she was familiar with large family living and spoke highly of our friend's family and of us to the other medical staff.

The twenty-five minutes that I spent "under" were indescribable.  Although I had go into surgery with a great desire to survive, I remember not wanting to come out of the incredible dream or vision I was having while asleep.  It was truly the deepest most restful sleep I've ever had.  The nurse said that when I became conscious I had a huge smile on my face.  The memory is not so vivid now, but I recall that I was convinced that God had met me during my surgery.  The only things I recalled were very bright "lighting" and a penetrating presence of perfect love and joy.  We returned home shortly with no worries and not a single ill effect of the day's experiences.







 

Thankful, No Matter What

  In a recent post I talked about overcoming fear to walk in the destiny that God has for us.  I also mentioned thoughts about having babies during times of uncertainty.  The completion of that God-given course about fear lead directly into a course on gratitude.  A dear friend gave me the book "One Thousand Gifts".  As I read it through I had a strong sense that God was going to provide some tests for me in the area of thanksgiving.

  I was feeling pretty good as I evaluated myself by the author's increasing standards on living in a state of thanksgiving.  It seemed perfectly natural to start my own list of 1000 things for which I am grateful.  I've been practicing thanking God for the little things for years.  That realization alone points to another God miracle since I was an ungrateful creature in my early life.  But as an adult, and definitely as a mother, I have taken into account the beauty of God's creation in every day.  Rainbows seen in dishsoap bubbles are just the sorts of things that I regularly stop and appreciate.  So, up to that place in my book I was doing well.  But I was sure there would be more required in order for me to grow more like Christ.

  The author wondered whether she could survive the loss of a child as some of her relatives had, twice.  Her quest for true gratitude and the joy that follows it, was continually splattered with doubt.  I, too, wondered what sort of situation could render me unable to give thanks to God.  And I questioned whether I was destined for a great loss in the near future.

  After our wonderful, short, getaway to the Gulf, we learned I was pregnant.  Because of the aforementioned lesson, from the start I was sober-minded.  I was also extremely grateful to learn that we were due in early December and by my doctor's typical recommendations I would be induced the week of Thanksgiving.  How appropriate.  My heart welled with gratitude.  The future looked so wonderful. 

  I've had a trend of weaning our toddlers around eighteen months, becoming fertile, quickly getting pregnant, miscarrying, and then becoming pregnant the next month and carrying the baby to term.  I believe it had happened before each of my last three babies.  Thankfully, the pregnancies were very short, and medical intervention had not been necessary.  The last loss was at nearly 7 weeks and definitely more intense, but still not an event of serious grief since it was a short pregnancy and our baby Joshua was conceived so quickly afterward. 

  I began to think of myself as a woman who would gladly carry more babies for the glory of God, or carry them until the Lord took them home and added them instantly to His Kingdom through miscarriage.  Now that I'm in my forties, I am aware that it will not be possible to have many more babies.  So with each pregnancy I've been grateful, yet fully aware of potential loss.

  This recent pregnancy seemed fairly normal.  I had to remind myself that I have not felt terribly nauseated in recent pregnancies therefore the lack of ill symptoms did not necessarily mean that the baby wasn't growing.  I even consulted my journal to be certain that feeling good was my new normal for the first trimester. 

  I thought of the baby everyday, practically every minute.  I bought a couple of maternity dresses on clearance and stopped buying the small sizes of clothes that I had recently been able to fit into.  It still amazes me how everything I eat, breathe, wear, read, and so on puts my baby and ever-changing body in mind.  We received wedding invitations for July.  I envisioned wearing lose-fitting dresses and comfy shoes.  I continued to exercise everyday paying close attention to my blood sugar swings and protein consumption.  The list of changes that are made in my daily life to accomodate a new baby is very long. 

  Around nine weeks I had some disturbing symptoms, yet they weren't any different than symptoms I've had in my last three pregnancies.  Again, I had to remind myself of those facts.  But by ten weeks I had called the doctor to make my first appointment and mild bleeding had increased to an unusual level.  In his office at ten and a half weeks he found a normal sized uterus and no heartbeat.  Later that day at the hospital an ultrasound revealed a placenta and sac with no baby inside.  I was ready for the news of a miscarriage but not for the part about my body being tricked into thinking it was pregnanct for the last two months. 

  This is a good place to share about gratitude and God's closeness during trial.  As I drove to my OB's office I sang my favorite worship songs, cried out to the Lord, prayed for our baby's life, against satan's plans to steal, kill and destroy, and pledged to thank Him no matter what came that day.  All the words of the songs reiterated that God is for me and God is with me.  Nothing can separate me from God.  I could lose everything that matters to me, but God would not be any less loving, gracious or wonderful. It was such a close time of fellowship and praise. As the doctor and I walked together into the exam room I told him, "God is adding to His Kingdom, whether my baby has lived or died."

  Again from the office to home and then to the hospital, I cried out to God.  I hoped the ultrasound would reveal a perfect baby but my symptoms made it seem unlikely.  So I shouted praises to Him.  Determined to maintain thankfullness.  Initially I went to the wrong building.  I was thankful for that mishap because the man that was serving at the front desk had the Holy Spirit all over him.  He was the most kind person I can remember ever meeting in a customer service position.  I decided after I finished my appointment I would write him a thank you note or go back and tell him in person.  God made sure that I didn't forget.  The traffic during my exit of the hospital complex encouraged me to head back the wrong direction towards the nice man's post.  I had to wait in line to speak to him, and when I explained why I came back, his response was one of surprise and blessing.

  As I sat in the large hospital foyer/pre-registration area, I started to pray for others around me.  Finally, I concluded that feeling sorry for myself was crazy.  I felt and looked healthier than anyone around, so it seemed.  I also felt that I was full of hope whereas their physical ailments seemed to have bound them.  I don't know how God sees people in a hospital, but I think He gave me a glimpse.  Compassion oozed from within.  I imagined how I could feel sorry that I had no one with me to help me handle the bad news.  I even complained for a few seconds that my husband is rarely with me or even available by phone to even know that something is wrong in my world.  But every vain thought, was immediately replaced by a "God thought".  He was delivering me from every temptation of evil imaginations.  He gave me kindness and compassion for dozens of people in the hospital. 

  Medically speaking, an anembryonic pregnancy, or blighted ovuum, is a real pregnancy where the fetus stops growing very early and is absorbed into the placenta.  Usually the placenta can keep up the charade for only ten weeks.  In the absence of bleeding, no mother should ever believe that she has an anembryonic pregnancy just because her baby has not been visualized/heard unless she is atleast ten weeks.  According to internet research there are many women who were told to have a D and C in earlier weeks and they refused and ultimately carryied a baby to term who was not visible until ten weeks!

 
(one year later)

God opened many doors through this loss and this new growth in being thankful for God's closeness.  to be continued in another post...