His Sovereignty In My Deepest Valley

In the fall of 2017 I went through a Bible study with our women’s class at church where we dug into the characteristics of our holy Lord. We studied His attributes and got to know who He is more closely. Throughout that whole study one characteristic stuck out to me. It’s what I clung to the whole study...His Sovereignty. Little did I know the reason that the Lord imprinted that on my heart, but I would soon find out. He would test how much I really trusted His sovereignty.  He was preparing me for something big. Something scary and something I would have never asked for. But a land He was going to ask me to walk through, all for His glory.

It was Valentine’s Day. Cole and I never make a huge deal about Valentine’s Day, but this one on Wednesday, February 14, 2018 would soon change our Valentine’s Days for forever. We were arguing over something insignificant the night before and barely spoke before he headed off to work that morning. I finished up my quiet time with the Lord and went about my normal routine. Got in the shower. Dried my hair. Went to the hall bathroom and began doing my makeup. I had finally started my cycle the day before. They had become very irregular since coming off of birth control in May for bad headaches, so I didn’t think much of being late this month.

Then it happened. Right as I put on my eyeliner and mascara. It is vividly imprinted into my mind. I didn’t know exactly what was happening in that moment, but it would soon change my life forever.

I’ve never had heavy periods, so as to not go into too much detail, I just knew this was unusual. I had a terrible gut wrenching feeling in the back of my mind as to what could be happening. I quickly subdued it and chalked it up to just a really bad period. I hurried to finish getting ready so I could head to work. The bleeding just continued to worsen. I got to work and my sweet work friends, concerned, asked if I thought I could be having a miscarriage. I quickly said no, but the more I bled, the more that started to become a real possibility. I decided to take a pregnancy test, knowing if I were miscarrying, it would still be positive. I went into the bathroom, peed in a cup and dipped the pregnancy test in there.

I looked up and saw two perfect purple lines.

I collapsed onto the germy floor of the bathroom. Heart racing. Hands shaking. Mind going in a million different directions. I was in the midst of my absolute biggest fear, a miscarriage.

           

I pulled myself off the floor of the bathroom and got the attention of my sweet friend. Oh how the Lord knew what He was doing that day when He placed two of the most special people in my life, Emily and Kim, together at the same place. We normally don’t all three work together, but that day, by His sovereign grace we did. They held me as I cried. As the tears flowed of finding the news that I was pregnant, but also losing the baby in that very moment, they held me tight. They cried with me and they mourned the loss of my baby with me in that break room. They prayed for me and lifted me up to the Fathers feet when I had no words to speak. They were like angels for me in that life changing moment.

I called Cole and told him I was miscarrying. I think he was in shock. He immediately left work and headed home. I called my doctors office who told me I could be miscarrying, or it could just be my cycle. This momma’s heart knew I was losing my precious child, so I was persistent and made an appointment to have labs drawn to confirm what I knew was happening.

Against my sweet friends wishes, I drove myself home. I honestly don’t remember much of the drive. I remember calling my mom, but forgetting she was at a conference and couldn’t get to her phone. I don’t remember anything else about it. I remember praying, but I don’t know the words I prayed… Paul said in Romans that the Holy Spirit intercedes for us when we don’t know how to pray, with groaning too deep for words (Romans 8:26) and I think that’s what happened. My heart felt like it had been ripped into a million little pieces and I was scrambling around just trying to salvage as much as I could. I honestly didn’t know what to think.

I made it home and Cole hadn’t quite made it there yet. I walked into the house and it felt so cold and empty. I hadn’t even known that a life was being formed inside my womb, but I knew it was missing now. Thankfully Cole got there minutes after I did so I wasn’t alone long. He walked in and we didn’t say a word… I just fell into his arms and sobbed. We pulled ourselves together, got in the car and headed to the doctor. It was the longest 45 minute drive we’ve ever had.

We sat in the waiting room, full of happy, pregnant women for 45 minutes or an hour. I lost track. I was still bleeding terribly. Finally I was called back and labs were drawn. I spoke with a nurse who gave her condolences and stated there wasn’t anything they could do. They predicted I was probably around 5 weeks 6 days, but couldn’t be sure, so really they didn't think they would be able to detect a heartbeat even if the baby was still alive. I just needed to go home, rest and call back the next day if I was still bleeding bad. The ride home was full of intermittent floods of tears, some comedy from my sweet husband to lighten the mood and full to the brim with questions. Why hadn’t I known? Why couldn't I have just taken a test earlier? Why me? Why our baby? How far along was I? Was the baby a boy or girl? Did I do something to cause this?

That day seemed like it lasted for forever. 

I was up about every hour that night, each time hoping it was just a dream. Cole had a Bible study to lead early the next morning, and another study soon after that in another city. I got up with him at 5am and kissed him goodbye, and assured him I would be fine. I went back to sleep and woke up when he got home around 7:45. He decided to not go to the next meeting. He said he simply didn’t feel right about it. Around 8:00, I got up to take a shower. I brushed my teeth and sat down on the toilet. Things got really blurry from there on. I calmly called to Cole and told him I felt very dizzy and may pass out. He rushed to my side. I tried to do all the things my medical mind knew to do and not pass out, but I did. I don’t know how long I was out, however, my husband would say it felt like an eternity. I finally came to and told him to call my doctor, who instructed us to head to their office. In the meantime, Cole called my sweet, sweet friend Nichole. My prayer warrior. My encourager. My comforter. I hadn’t even told her yet that I had miscarried, I was too emotional the day before and planned on telling her that day. However, she was already praying, even though she didn’t know why. She rushed to the house and held me tight. Cried with me and mourned the loss of this life that we didn't even know existed. She helped get me in the car and headed to the office with us. After talking with my doctor’s office again, we decided I should just go straight to the ER. They got me back and were monitoring me closely. After talking with my doctor, they decided to admit me for observation and fluids. My hemoglobin was dropping rapidly and they were afraid a blood transfusion was in my future.

Then came the ultrasound. When I thought of my first ever ultrasound, this was not what I had in mind. It was so quiet. And so empty. No sign of baby. I knew in my heart there wasn’t any hope for the baby to still be alive, but the confirmation was unexplainably painful.

I got settled into my room. Family came and visited. But it was just all so empty. That’s really the only word I know how to use to describe it all. Emptiness. My baby was gone. In the arms of my Jesus, I know. But I was here. Hurting. Crying. Lost. Confused. And so overwhelmed.

That night the bleeding finally slowed. The next morning my doctor felt comfortable discharging me. So we went home. With bruised arms from needle sticks. Tired, puffy eyes. Iron supplements. Aching heart. And empty arms.

The physical healing began, but emotionally and spiritually I was just beginning. The pain is unlike anything I’ve ever felt. I’ve lost people very close to me, but losing a baby from your own body, feeling like you’ve done something to fail your child, is unlike any ache I’ve ever felt. But through this pain like any other, I’ve discovered my sovereign Lord has peace like I’ve never experienced. Comfort that feels like He’s literally holding me in His arms. Joy that doesn’t make sense in the midst of such a tragedy. Strength that seems to come out of nowhere so I could make it through the day. And hope that endures through the darkest, tear filled night.

I’ve truly experienced His sovereignty. Although this process wrecked me to my core, I know above all else it was His will. For an unknown reason (maybe one I won’t know this side of Heaven), my baby wasn’t meant to see this earth. He or she wasn’t created to learn how to crawl, or walk, or ride a bike or write their name on this side of Heaven, but he or she was created to worship our Lord every day of their life. The first thing my sweet baby’s eyes saw was my Jesus. He or she left my stomach and was immediately in the nail scarred hands of my Savior. And THAT is what gives my heart peace. My baby will never experience heart break or pain or temptation or frustration or all the other evil things we face on a daily basis. My child is perfect and whole in the presence of my Lord. My baby is not an angel in heaven, but a whole person who is running on the streets of gold serving and worshipping my Lord!

The week after we lost the baby we were scheduled to go to a FCA work conference for Cole. Many of the staff members use it as a weekend getaway for spouses and it was perfect timing for Cole and I to get away and heal. One of the main points that the speaker kept bringing up was “singing the songs of the Lord in a foreign land” (Psalm 137:4). Although his points didn’t directly relate to losing a baby, the Lord used everything that weekend to minister to my heart in that raw time. From the messages, to the worship, to a random lady we were praying with who prayed Psalm 34:18 ("The Lord is near to the brokenhearted"), everything was ordained by my sovereign God that weekend. Cole and I are in a foreign land. One that we never asked to be in and certainly weren’t excited about when looked up and realized where we were. But this is where our Lord wants us. This is the place we’re meant to grow into a deeper relationship with Him and with each other. And this is the place where we’ll bear witness as we praise Him, even in the heartache and pain and disappointment.

I’m still walking through this foreign land. Still trying to figure out exactly where I’m suppose to be going. But through it all I will praise my Lord. I will sing His songs in this foreign land so hopefully those around me will be drawn to Him.

A few things I’ve learned since walking through the valley of a miscarriage so far, although I’m sure I’m in for much more as I discover this new land:

1. Jesus is more than enough. He is everything. He fills in every part of me that is lacking. He is my peace when fear grips my heart like never before. He is my hope when I’m in complete despair. He is my strength when I have absolutely nothing left in me. He is my hope when hopelessness surrounds me. He is my healer when my heart is shattered. As much as I long to have my baby in my arms, Jesus is the only One who can truly satisfy and fill me. He has shown me even more through this valley how constant He truly is. His grace is so sufficient. I’ve been through trials in my life. I’ve lost people I love, I’ve battled depression, anxiety and an eating disorder. I’ve been through valleys before, but losing a baby doesn’t compare to any of those. This has by far been the biggest test of my faith yet. And through it all, the Lord has been more than enough. His Word is everlasting and is always what I need. I have truly felt what it means to be strong when I am weak (“For when I am weak, then I am strong.” -2 Corinthians 12:10).  When I’m weak, when I have nothing left inside of me, I lean solely on Him and His strength. I’ve been tested harder than I’ve ever been tested, but I’ve been held closer to my Savior than I’ve ever been held before.

2. I’ve found an even stronger love for Cole. When couples go through a tragedy like this, you either grow closer together or you push each other away. Thankfully, Cole and I are closer than we’ve ever been. It has given us a new perspective on life and what truly matters. He’s seen me more broken than I’ve ever been, and he has displayed more compassion and love to me than I’ve ever seen. We’ve gripped each others hands even tighter, with every sting of pain and “what if” about our unborn baby. Cole has already been such an amazing dad to our baby and seeing that love in his eyes for our child and future children is amazing. The Lord has used the loss of our baby to bind us even closer together, and for that I am thankful. For better or for worse has been played out live in our lives, and God has been faithful through it all. 

3. I long for heaven like never before. Of course, as a believer and follower of Christ I desire to be with my Savior and see Him face to face. But wow… knowing that my child is in heaven. Safe and sound and held by my Jesus, I crave it even more. It seems so much more real now. Knowing that I will one day hold my child in my arms overwhelms my broken heart. I thank the Lord all the time for His grace that has made a way for me to see my child one day, even though I never saw his or her face here on this earth. As a woman so perfectly put it in a book I read to help with healing ("Safe In The Arms Of God" by John MacArthur), “a part of me is in heaven now”.  And oh how I long for the day to be made whole by my Lord and reunite with that part of me that is already in glory!

I’m still broken. My heart still aches daily to have my baby growing inside of me. With every week my mind is drawn to how many weeks pregnant I would be. With every ultrasound picture on social media I wonder what my baby’s picture would look like. I’m human and my human heart dwells on these things from time to time… but when these things become overwhelming, my sweet Lord gently whispers songs of healing to my soul. He reminds me that there is a plan and a purpose for the loss of my child. And through it all, He asks me to praise Him. To lift up the pieces of my broken heart as an offering and sacrifice to His holy throne. His sovereignty endures forever, even through the loss of my child that I didn’t even know was being formed. He hasn’t changed just because I’m broken. I’m going to keep singing His songs in this foreign land. With every step I take I know He has already gone before me. Through this trial, I will bring Him glory. Because if the purpose of my child dying means other people coming to life in my Lord, then it is all worth it.

“But now, thus says the LORD, your Creator… 

‘Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are Mine!’

            ‘When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; 

and through the rivers, they will not overflow you. 

When you walk through the fire, you will not be scorched, nor will the flame burn you.

            ‘For I am the Lord your God…’” –Isaiah 43:1-3

It’s not about how rough the waters, how hot the flame or how deep the valley. It’s all about how Holy, Sovereign, Mighty, Powerful and Strong my Lord is.  And that is why I can have joy even in this deep valley of heartbreak and sorrow. I pray that you, too, know the joy of our Lord in rough waters. If you don’t, I pray the Lord moves in your heart and reveals Himself to you. You are not alone. Don’t let Satan convince you of that!

I am, unfortunately, now 1 in 4 women who experience a miscarriage. But I know my God is going to use this in a bigger way than I could ever imagine. Writing this was one of the hardest things I’ve done. For some reason it is so easy to not talk about the precious life that is now gone from this earth. But I know my Lord brings beauty from ashes and I want everyone else to see that too.

I’m praying for all of you hurting Mommas who feel like you’ve failed your child by not being able to birth life to them. Please know that the Lord of the universe now has your baby in His arms, and He wants to hold you too as you mourn that precious life.

In memory of Davey Asher Limbaugh

February 14, 2018