Babies, The Sanctity of Life, and Purpose
I have never questioned the fact that human life begins at conception, but that truth has only strengthened as I mourn Maggie and Lucy.
But these losses have caused me to reach up and ask God,
For what purpose? Why have us conceive twice, only for them to die before they even lived on this Earth?
I don’t know the answers, and they plague me at times. But what I do know is that these girls have purpose. In fact, every human has eternal purpose. Every child- unborn babies included- has a soul. They have value and meaning. My girls are not just fetuses, tissue, or “losses”. Every child is to be celebrated and regarded as the incredibly unique, beautiful gift God has made them to be.
We only have two living children, but ultimately I am a mother of four. Even when I don’t share that with everyone I meet, I have that tucked away in my heart in a special, sad place. As a friend from church encouraged me- I carry my babies in my heart forever, as they grew beneath my heart for even a short time.
Facing the Spiritual Pitfalls
Lucy’s death, so shortly after Maggie’s death, shook me. It felt like a part of me broke the moment that ultrasound once again showed that my body was no longer a safe, warm place for life but a tomb.
I grieved and mourned. I felt numb and barely existing. And after I endured the agony of saying goodbye to another daughter, I went to battle, asking Jesus to show me Himself in this torture.
This time, I felt a strong need to understand how God truly felt about miscarriage, about death. The world has its own thoughts, but I only need to know His.
If everything passes through Your hands and You know the number of days in our lives (Psalm 139:16, Job 14:5), is this good?
Should I praise You for this, God? Flex some spiritual strength I am completely bereft of right now?
God has been patient, revealing once again His character, His love. And I have felt Him weep with me.
So, onto some pitfalls I have encountered- either from within or from others. I am, by no means, any sort of theologian, but these are the topics JB and I have discussed and wrestled in God’s Word about in this time.
Pitfall #1: If I am so in love with God, I don’t need to be so sad.
Brittany Lee Allen writes of a concept she coins, “Emotional Prosperity” in her book, Lost Gifts:
…there’s a sneakier prosperity teaching [than the Prosperity
Gospel] creeping into many Churches. Here’s what it says: if we
truly love Jesus more than anything, we won’t be phased by woes
of the world. We will be so joyful in Christ that heartbreak over
things like babies dying in the womb won’t deeply grieve us.
Basically, prosperity teaching [which is not Biblical, yet so
popular]– but make it emotional. (pg. 43) [brackets are my
words]
She goes on to write that there are some people in the church who would imply that if we love God enough, we wouldn’t be this sad about our babies dying…or really insert any tragedy, loss, or suffering there.
There are several key passages in the Bible that speak of enduring suffering well (1 Peter 4:12-16, James 1:2-4, Romans 5:3-5, to name a few) with the knowledge of the fruits it brings in our lives, knowing He brings good out of it all, and the closeness it brings to Christ through our further sanctification (i.e. becoming more like Him).
But Brittany Lee Allen puts it so well a few pages later:
God isn’t only concerned with our growth in holiness, but also
that we would experience his love, comfort, and faithfulness
toward us. This is all part of growing in Christlikeness. When a
couple loses their pre-born baby, God is just as concerned
about washing over them with his comfort as he is about
washing them with his word. (pg. 49)
Pitfall #2: I should look for the silver linings in these losses- let them make me “stronger” and “better”. Keep it positive to be a better witness to those who don’t know Jesus.
Selah’s song, “I Will Carry You”, captures my current state:
People say that I am brave but I'm not.
Truth is I'm barely hanging on.
I’ve had people say I’m so strong in this, but the truth is, I don’t really have a choice. I did not choose this or expect this; it was thrust upon me like a dark monster threatening to take my very soul.
If waking up to another day and getting out of bed is strong, sure.
I have no desire to seek self-glorification in this process because He is holding me up every moment. Truth is, I barely feel here sometimes. Without Jesus, I truly, truly don’t know where I would be, but it would be an incredibly dark place. Truly.
And, while many people have seen me smile or cherish my kids, even in this heartbreaking time, God and a few close ones have seen me weep and question and hurt repeatedly.
Our witnesses as believers are not at all tarnished by being human- being vulnerable about our pain and struggle- even when we are doubting or feeling far from God.
I want my friends, my readers, my kids to see a human being who does not have it all figured out, who struggles and weeps at not understanding, but keeps coming back to this One Belief that I can’t stop talking about to the point that it’s annoying. And why? Why would I keep coming back to God, especially after all this pain?
Because I have zero doubts of His goodness or His love for me because of what He did on the cross. And I know He actually did it- more on that later.
So how could I doubt that He is good, even when what I am going through makes me want to think otherwise?
Pitfall #3: God must be pruning you. He’s teaching you something in this.
Yes, God is growing me and stretching me. Suffering and hardship are such a significant part of How he does that, and it’s beautiful and hard to comprehend. But He did not cause this to teach me a lesson. How do I know this? Because He has no evil or darkness in Him (1 John 1:5), and death is evil.
Brittany Lee Allen words it well:
God did not take our babies to teach us a lesson. God is
sovereign. He is not the author of evil, suffering, and death…
Often, we are encouraged to look for the good in our loss…But
we don’t always have to see the goodness of God in the midst of
it. And that’s okay. The truth that our suffering isn’t wasted is
encouraging. But we need not strain our eyes to search for the
why of our miscarriage. We can simply rest in the grace of our
Lord, the Good Shepherd, knowing we are carried. We are held,
even in our unbelief. (pg. 50)
So, Where are You in This, God?
Do You hate death?
Am I supposed to deem this as “good”?
Why did You open our hearts to having more children and pave the way for us in every way- jobs, schedules, our home- only for us to lose these two babies?
I don’t have the answers for why we didn’t get to raise our Maggie and Lucy in our loving family.
And I don’t need to defend God’s ways or His timing- nor do I demand answers. He is a loving Father with only good in Him- no darkness. And I know that to be true in every part of my being.
But I have continued to be refreshed in Scripture with answers to many of these questions, and I cling to them:
Yes, God hates death. He does not declare death to be a “good thing” in our lives, and it wasn’t part of His original design for our world. It was brought about after Adam and Eve committed the original sin, which was rooted in pride and a desire to be greater than God.
1 Corinthians 15:24-27 says that death is God’s last enemy- that He tasted death so that He could conquer it, once and for all, for us. Because He loves us:
“Then the end will come, when he hands over the kingdom to God the Father after he has destroyed all dominion, authority and power. For he must reign until he has put all his enemies under his feet. The last enemy to be destroyed is death. For he ‘has put everything under his feet.’”
Psalm 5:4 says, “For You are not a God who delights in wickedness; evil may not dwell with you.”
Yes, God hates death. He hates it so much that He sent His Son to die to conquer it- to not let it be the end for those who believe.
He loves us that much that He would endure a terrible death so that death is not the final word.
Here is an example from Jesus’ time on earth.
While the stories of Joseph and Job were a comfort to me after Maggie, the story of Lazarus has been such a comfort to me after Lucy.
In John 11:35, Jesus wept after his friend, Lazarus, died- even though he knew he would raise him from the dead soon after.
But you know what? These were angry tears. Righteous anger over the death of his friend and the pain it caused his dear sisters, Jesus’ friends. He hated death and the agony it brought with it.
Looking back at verse 33 of John gives us a clearer picture, as it says that Jesus was "deeply moved in spirit and troubled". The original Greek word used there was embrimaomai, which, based on a modern day pastor’s writing, is a term often used to describe a horse snorting in battle preparation or a deep, boiling indignation and rage.
Romans 5:12 explains the origin of death on Earth:
“Therefore, just as sin entered the world through one man, and death through sin, and in this way death came to all people, because all sinned…”
And once again, I don’t need to slap some blanket statement on this that because God is with me as my Comforter and Redeemer, all that happens in my life is unequivocally good.
Many of us have tried to comfort others with these kinds of generalized platitudes because it makes us uncomfortable to help shoulder the heavy weight of pain, loss, and suffering when we or loved ones are going through hard things we don’t understand or wish for.
God hates death. He hates miscarriage. This is a broken, terrible thing, and He does not require us to sugarcoat it, trivialize it, or minimize it. And just because God allowed/ordained/whatever He did (because I am only human and can never fully understand) does not mean that my girls’ deaths are good or that He thinks they are either. He makes good out of the awful. He brings forth beauty from the ashes (Isaiah 61:3).
Brittany Lee Allen asks similar questions on page 48 of her Lost Gifts:
“Does God expect me to thank him for my circumstances? Does he demand I have gratitude for the loss of my child?”
If we reflect on 1 Thessalonians 5:16-18, the verse says to give thanks “in all
circumstances,” not for all circumstances…This means we can be grateful for what God is doing in our suffering– how he’s sustaining our faith, comforting us in our grief, growing
us in Christlikeness, and providing for our needs, but we are not required to be thankful that
our baby is gone. It may feel radical to thank God for the very source of our suffering, but it isn’t necessarily biblical.” (pg. 48)
JB has encouraged me with this thought process over the months:
Instead of asking, “What lesson is God trying to teach me through this?”, as if I am the main character of this story, I can ask, “God, how can I glorify You through this?". It’s not performance-based. It is focused on honor, praise, and glorifying Him- putting Him at the forefront of my mind and soul.
How Can I Encourage the Griever?
This post explains some words to refrain from sharing with someone who is grieving or hurting- well, then, what should you say and do? I will share from my experience, as well as what I have heard and read from others:
1. Keep it simple. You may be a Biblical scholar or pastor, or you may know nothing of this faith your friend or family member believes in. All you have to say are:
There are no words.
I am so sorry.
I am heartbroken for you.
I am grieving with you.
I love you.
I am praying for you.
No need to relate. And no need to feel shy about bringing up their precious baby; there can be a fear that saying their baby’s name will cause more pain, but it is quite the opposite. Just sit in the grief with them and recognize the child they lost.
2. Feeling nervous to even say those things, but your friend invites you into their home? I have had gracious, wonderful friends admit to me they don’t know what to say because they have not personally experienced miscarriage and don’t want to say something hurtful by accident.
First of all, just sharing that with me brings me comfort and makes me feel loved because I see their heart.
But if that person is physically with me, what is often better than words is a hug.
Bring the box of tissues close and just hold them. Hold their hand and let them cry. If they sit there numb, dried out from all the tears, just be with them. It is better to say nothing than to try to fill the silence with platitudes, small talk, or nonsense. While it may feel awkward, my very soul is in such depths at moments and the quiet is a balm. Your presence is a gift to your loved one; nothing else is required.
If you are really feeling like you need to say something, you can always ask a simple question like, “Is there anything that would be helpful for you to share with me today? I am here for you and love you. If you need silence, I can do that. Or if you would like to talk, I am here to bear your grief with you.”
3. Ask them if you can pray over them if you feel comfortable.
What has been the greatest comfort to me is not for people to pray for peace for me or even understanding. I need prayers for comfort, to feel His presence near, and to feel held in His hands. Peace and (maybe) understanding of some of the “whys” may happen, but not initially, and that’s okay.
4. Offer acts of service. I have had friends and family alike come and watch my kids so I can sleep. I have had friends sign up to clean my home, to drop off meals, to take my kids to their home so they can have a fun playdate.
5. Give them space if they ask for it. My family and friends have been so sensitive to my needs, which have been different after losing Lucy. This time, I haven’t wanted to be around people nearly as much. The greatest comfort I have found is being alone in my backyard, reading my Bible and listening to the birds. Or being with JB and the kids.
Text your loved one and ask how you can love them or support them best, and take no offense if they just need prayer from afar. My loved ones have done that so well with graciousness and gentleness, and that has been a true act of love.
6. Can’t be there in person? Send texts every few days. Just a short, “Thinking of you”, “Praying for you”, “Love you, dear friend” can be a light in a dark time.
Send your loved one a hand-written note- just a short one- sharing your love and care for them and their precious baby. Send them a piece of jewelry with their baby’s name. A hand-knit little blanket. A candle they can light every time they want to think about their child. Or keep it practical and send a DoorDash gift card to help with meals. Offer to drop off some groceries or send their favorite snacks via Instacart.
Show the comfort He readily give us.
The God of All Comfort
To drive the truth home about God’s unending love for us and His incredible comfort, I want to share the verses my dear twin shared with me from Lamentations 3 the morning of my D&C with Lucy. The Message version really captures His heart here:
“I’m the man who has seen trouble..He took me by the hand and
walked me into pitch-black darkness…I gave up on life
altogether. I’ve forgotten what the good life is like. I said to
myself, ‘This is it. I’m finished. God is a lost cause.’
I’ll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness, the taste of
ashes, the poison I’ve swallowed. I remember it all–oh, how
well I remember–and remembering, I keep a grip on hope:
God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out, his merciful love couldn’t
have dried up. They’re created new every morning. How great
is your faithfulness! I’m sticking with God (I say it over and
over). He’s all I’ve got left. God proves to be good to the man
who passionately waits, to the woman who diligently seeks. It’s
a good thing to quietly hope, quietly hope for help from God.
It’s a good thing when you’re young to stick it out through the
hard times.
When life is heavy and hard to take, go off by yourself. Enter
the silence. Bow in prayer. Don’t ask questions: Wait for hope to
appear. Don’t run from trouble. Take it full-face. The “worst” is
never the worst. Why? Because the Master won’t ever walk out
and fail to return.”
JB has encouraged me with this thought process over the months:
Instead of asking, “What lesson is God trying to teach me through this?”, as if I am the main character of this story, I can ask, “God, how can I glorify You through this?". It’s not performance-based. It is focused on honor, praise, and glorifying Him- putting Him at the forefront of my mind and soul.
How Can I Encourage the Griever?
This post explains some words to refrain from sharing with someone who is grieving or hurting- well, then, what should you say and do? I will share from my experience, as well as what I have heard and read from others:
1. Keep it simple. You may be a Biblical scholar or pastor, or you may know nothing of this faith your friend or family member believes in. All you have to say are:
There are no words.
I am so sorry.
I am heartbroken for you.
I am grieving with you.
I love you.
I am praying for you.
No need to relate. And no need to feel shy about bringing up their precious baby; there can be a fear that saying their baby’s name will cause more pain, but it is quite the opposite. Just sit in the grief with them and recognize the child they lost.
2. Feeling nervous to even say those things, but your friend invites you into their home? I have had gracious, wonderful friends admit to me they don’t know what to say because they have not personally experienced miscarriage and don’t want to say something hurtful by accident.
First of all, just sharing that with me brings me comfort and makes me feel loved because I see their heart.
But if that person is physically with me, what is often better than words is a hug.
Bring the box of tissues close and just hold them. Hold their hand and let them cry. If they sit there numb, dried out from all the tears, just be with them. It is better to say nothing than to try to fill the silence with platitudes, small talk, or nonsense. While it may feel awkward, my very soul is in such depths at moments and the quiet is a balm. Your presence is a gift to your loved one; nothing else is required.
If you are really feeling like you need to say something, you can always ask a simple question like, “Is there anything that would be helpful for you to share with me today? I am here for you and love you. If you need silence, I can do that. Or if you would like to talk, I am here to bear your grief with you.”
3. Ask them if you can pray over them if you feel comfortable.
What has been the greatest comfort to me is not for people to pray for peace for me or even understanding. I need prayers for comfort, to feel His presence near, and to feel held in His hands. Peace and (maybe) understanding of some of the “whys” may happen, but not initially, and that’s okay.
4. Offer acts of service. I have had friends and family alike come and watch my kids so I can sleep. I have had friends sign up to clean my home, to drop off meals, to take my kids to their home so they can have a fun playdate.
5. Give them space if they ask for it. My family and friends have been so sensitive to my needs, which have been different after losing Lucy. This time, I haven’t wanted to be around people nearly as much. The greatest comfort I have found is being alone in my backyard, reading my Bible and listening to the birds. Or being with JB and the kids.
Text your loved one and ask how you can love them or support them best, and take no offense if they just need prayer from afar. My loved ones have done that so well with graciousness and gentleness, and that has been a true act of love.
6. Can’t be there in person? Send texts every few days. Just a short, “Thinking of you”, “Praying for you”, “Love you, dear friend” can be a light in a dark time.
Send your loved one a hand-written note- just a short one- sharing your love and care for them and their precious baby. Send them a piece of jewelry with their baby’s name. A hand-knit little blanket. A candle they can light every time they want to think about their child. Or keep it practical and send a DoorDash gift card to help with meals. Offer to drop off some groceries or send their favorite snacks via Instacart.
Show the comfort He readily give us.
The God of All Comfort
To drive the truth home about God’s unending love for us and His incredible comfort, I want to share the verses my dear twin shared with me from Lamentations 3 the morning of my D&C with Lucy. The Message version really captures His heart here:
“I’m the man who has seen trouble..He took me by the hand and
walked me into pitch-black darkness…I gave up on life
altogether. I’ve forgotten what the good life is like. I said to
myself, ‘This is it. I’m finished. God is a lost cause.’
I’ll never forget the trouble, the utter lostness, the taste of
ashes, the poison I’ve swallowed. I remember it all–oh, how
well I remember–and remembering, I keep a grip on hope:
God’s loyal love couldn’t have run out, his merciful love couldn’t
have dried up. They’re created new every morning. How great
is your faithfulness! I’m sticking with God (I say it over and
over). He’s all I’ve got left. God proves to be good to the man
who passionately waits, to the woman who diligently seeks. It’s
a good thing to quietly hope, quietly hope for help from God.
It’s a good thing when you’re young to stick it out through the
hard times.
When life is heavy and hard to take, go off by yourself. Enter
the silence. Bow in prayer. Don’t ask questions: Wait for hope to
appear. Don’t run from trouble. Take it full-face. The “worst” is
never the worst. Why? Because the Master won’t ever walk out
and fail to return.”
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