My first miscarriage was hard. Make ya wanna dive into the depths of the despair, consider throwin’ in the baby making towel hard. But the faith part wasn’t so terribly hard in that one. I mean, it sucked. And we weren’t excited about it, but they’re not uncommon, right? And everybody has to go through stuff…the Bible tells me so. And that was maybe the hardest thing I’ve ever actually been asked to walk through so I figured it wasn’t as bad as people who had met there baby and then had to watch him/her die. I could at least be faithful through an early term miscarriage. And it wasn’t because I was willing myself to be faithful. It never occurred to me to be angry or doubt or cuss. I desperately wanted to honor God with my response to that first one.
My second miscarriage occurred two and a half weeks ago. I can’t believe it’s been two and a half weeks. It feels like less. Or more. I’m not sure. It just feels…awful. I’m all cried out at this point, to tell you the truth. In fact, after the first two days of snotting up my pillow case and not showering at all, I let go of sad and latched onto pissed. Full on, say a lot of cuss words, “God, we are not on speaking terms” pissed. And then hopeless saddled up with pissed. They take turns holding the reigns. Occasionally I allow peace to bump them off but hopeless and pissed will not be so easily dethroned, I guess.
This time around I have felt personally attacked by God because I know He can do whatever He wants. That He could have, at the very least, prevented the pregnancy. Even THAT would have been better than THIS. It felt/feels like He looked at me and said, “Em, I know this is deeply important to you and Josh. I know that it’s a deep-seeded heart dream of yours. And I know this is going knock you down like a tidal wave, pin you to the floor, and wash over you again and again until you feel like you’ll never take another breath. But I’m going to allow it to happen anyway. Sorry, pal.”
Please hear me. I’m well aware that what I feel does not match up with what God’s Word says. And I do/will continue to remember that His Word is my plumb line. My truth level, NOT the way I feel. And what I’m learning is that when the truth about me and the truth about my God collide, a big, fat, snotty, showerless mess called a crisis of faith occurs. And I must make a choice – to believe what He’s already said or to buy some boxing gloves and slam the mess out of an unsuspecting punching bag. Which I may do anyway because this home girl could stand to relieve some aggression.
And please also know that Jesus’ nearness has been tangible.
He let me be angry, say ugly words and ugly things. He didn’t push through the just being here for me of my husband and my Mama.
He whispered words of faith-hope through my Gra’ma. Thoughts of I care through Lauren. And brought me chocolate and flowers through Tiffany. All on the same day.
He spoke I’m so sorry this happeneds and it really isn’t fairs and I’m talking to God about it, toos through the people who love me.
He sat next to me in church on Sunday – my first day back amidst the regular life living when I felt all but regular. The Hunk got tied up doing his job and I felt like the loneliness would swallow me up until He held my hand, stroked my hair, and gave me the strength to praise a God who I believe but I do not understand.
And today He swooped in and reminded me that I have the choice to say, “Enough is enough.” To run, arms flailing Phoebe-style, back to the only place I ever find comfort. His truth. His Word. His presence.
I don’t really know what this is going to look like this time around. How I will be able to ask for good things again and believe that He will give them to me. That He wants to give good. But I know that He will not stop until He has healed me. Again. Today I slammed right into Him through this blog post. The collision hurt so good that all I could do was weep.
And then I knew it was time to tell you what I’ve been walking through because you should know that I’m confused, too. And that God isn’t finished with me yet. Maybe you’re walking through something that has you scouring Amazon for pink boxing gloves because pissed and hopeless have settled into your heart and they’ve gotta express themselves somehow. Spousal abuse is off the table so a punching bag will be needed as well 😉
All I can say right now is to watch for Jesus. He IS pursuing you and me. He aches to comfort you and me. Be brave enough to let Him. And God? Apparently He’s not done yet. Hang on to the rope [as my Mama would say]. Hanging on to the rope, especially when you’re down to your final shred of fingernail, is the kind of faith that does move mountains. Thank you, sweet Jesus, for that.
9 thoughts on “The reason for my absence: Part 2”
I've been praying for you sweet girl. When you get tired of hanging on by your fingernails, let go. His BIG hands of love are before you, behind you, to your right and to your left. You have never been out of His sight.
I love you too, see you soon.
Been there, done that, bought the t-shirt! But my saying that doesn't really make it better does it? Yet, I know how you feel and so does GOD! Keep telling Him and in due time, in some way (not our way) He'll give you sweet nuggets of His endless comfort and grace AND you will know that you know that only He could have done that. You will come through this – you'll not be the same, But God will ask you to use it for Him! – You already are! In Him, Mrs. Sheila
Oh the honesty in this post is beautiful, the pain is real and the truth is solid. What an incredible mix. Will pray.
Praying for you all, sweet Em.
I can't even begin to tell you how this hit home for me. I found out I was pregnant one month after Cory and I got married. At almost three months, I miscarried. I felt like God was that bully in the playground that picked me up by my ankles and shook me for my lunch money. I felt robbed. About two weeks later, my instinct was telling me that something was wrong. I still felt pregnant. I went back to the doctor and found out that I had lost one of two…twins. I thought, what a blessing. He gives and takes away. Then two weeks later, I miscarried again…
It shook me more than anything else in life. I still struggle with feeling like it was my fault, or God's fault, and my heart broke when I read your story. I couldn't help but cry for the loss that you have gone through, because it's like a piece of you has died with your baby. But God's story is one of victory, and He is slowly but surely healing me of this tragedy day by day…and healing our marriage as well. His love is so strong, and I pray that He wraps you up so tight that you can't help but feel is grace healing your brokenness.
Love and praying for you always.
my dear sweet Emily,
Oh that I could hold you in my arms right now. My heart breaks for you as I read your painful words. I have questioned God so many times just as you are. And, yet I pray that I could say as Job said, "Tho He slay me, yet, shall I praise Him". You are so much stronger than me. Still I know that His ways are not our ways. Already He is using your pain to encourage others. I love you more than life.
His ways are not our ways, nor His thoughts our thoughts. Who can fathom the depths of his understanding? I am praying for you and for Josh and for Adelle. I am praying for comfort, peace, and wisdom for your future. He WILL use this hurt and pain for good. We may never ever see it or know why…
I love you sister. You are such a good model for me.
Emily, I am sorry and I am praying. Thank you for being so real and reminding us that "hanging onto the rope" is the kind of faith that moves mountains. Your strength, faith and hope are encouraging in so many ways.
I am sorry you are going through this, and I am praying for you RIGHT NOW.