DISCLAIMER: This post discusses pregnancy loss.
Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life.
Somewhere around every 27 days, I recite this verse to myself. Once again, I’ve foolishly purchased one of those one dollar pregnancy tests. I watch the pink dye run across the strip and settles on only one line.
I put it away for five minutes, hoping maybe at least a squinter line will appear.
Stark white. Negative.
I stare at it for a long time hoping to see something. Yes, I’ve had four pregnancies and three living children. I know you’re not supposed to do that.
But wait. Maybe? 🤷♀️
At least I have three kids. At least I don’t have to worry about getting fat this month. At least I don’t have to freak over miscarrying again.
And maybe I’m done. Maybe my uterus is broken. Maybe I’m such a bad mom to my living kids that another baby would be a bad idea.
At least. Maybe.
As well intentioned as the words are, I hate them.
Trying to have a baby after a miscarriage is different than it was with the others. For starters, all my husband had to do was look at me a certain way and I got pregnant. I had perfect pregnancies with no complications and easy births. When I got pregnant a fourth time, it was a no brainer that all would be well.
But it wasn’t. The mere knowledge that my body betrayed me was a shock. It actually happened to me.
For a while, I said I was done. Experiencing that sadness was nothing I’d like to repeat. Or the turmoil of wondering if the pregnancy was viable. The emotional rollercoaster.
That’s not to say I didn’t want to try again, but I just didn’t have it in me.
After almost a year, the Lord began asking me to trust Him with it. If I’m honest, He wanted my trust with everything. And y’all know this control freak will be spending the rest of her life learning to yield that trust, but nevertheless He has asked me to.
With the future. With my marriage. With my kids. With my past hurts. With my spiritual life. With ministry. With finances.
I see babies on a fairly consistent basis and some days it wrecks my heart, because my baby isn’t here with me. I wonder what he might have been like (I believe he was a boy even though it was too early to tell) and what life would be like. There is somewhat of a gaping hole that even another child can’t fill.
But I do desire another baby. There’s no denying it. No matter how scared I am or what the future holds, my desire is to carry another baby and raise him or her alongside my other children.
Month after month, God has said no. Or wait. Or maybe the science just wasn’t quite right that time. I’ve gotten angry, cried, and then rested on His shoulder with nothing short of surrender to His plan. In spite of disappointment and heartache, there is peace and comfort. He has a plan and He knows what’s best.
I’m going to be honest … I don’t know if I’ll miscarry again. Many women suffer one loss and go on to have healthy pregnancies. Some don’t. Some suffer many losses. I don’t know if I can do it again. Who can though?
I’m trusting Him even in spite of my fear. I’m trusting that even if the worst happens, He will not leave me.
Even if there are no more babies in His plan, I’ll trust He will give me the peace I need to be okay with that.
I hold to this verse as I wait for my answer. The hopelessness of yet another negative test makes my heart sink to my toes. The complexity of my desire mixed with fear overwhelms me. It’s almost too much to bear sometimes, but I’m trusting I’ll receive an answer.
I’m trusting He hears every prayer.
And His Spirit comforts me with these words in a whisper.
“But when the desire cometh …”
I don’t know what you’re praying for, but don’t lose hope. Waiting for an answer is long and tedious. Sometimes what we seek is complicated, mixed with uncertainty and fear. Keep bringing your requests to Him and trusting His timing and plan. This time of waiting is an opportunity to grow your faith in Him.
Waiting hurts, but I’ve known the joy of when the answers come. It’s worth it.
God is good.