Tears in my hands

About four weeks we had the great pleasure of discovering that we were pregnant. Our third baby was on the way. We didn't plan it, it was a surprise, but a lovely surprise. I was a little bit daunting to think that Bella would be only 15 months old when this new baby arrived but we were confident that God gives us children and he gives us the strength to raise them. As normal a pregnancy makes you start planning, dreaming, counting one more in everything.

I went to my Doctor and he was cautious. He sent me for an ultrasound. Last Thursday I was with Andrew waiting for the ultrasound to start and I could only breath in and beg God to give me strength. As the doctor started to look for my baby he only found a very tiny embryo that didn't match the gestational age, and the most terrible thing, there was no heart beat. Tears started to pour out, I couldn't stop them, I didn't want it either. My baby was dead. I lost my precious baby.

I am not the first mother to lose a baby and I won't be the last one, but it was comforting to remember an article that I had read at the CCEF webpage about pain and how God does not compare our pain to anyone else's:

God, however, never compares our suffering to anyone else’s. Never. He doesn’t even compare it to his own suffering. There is no, “Let’s see, you just got divorced. Hmm. Do you want to know real pain? I suffered and died for your sins.” Instead, his personal familiarity with human pain assures us of his compassion—not of his comparisons. (http://www.ccef.org/blog/no-more-minimizing-pain)

God knows that death is horrible and that tears people apart. It is not intended to be, God didn't put death as part of life, death is a result of our sin. The death of my baby has made me cry and cry. It doesn't really matter what good intentioned people try to say to comfort me, like "well, it was under 12 weeks, it was expected!" or "but you have another 2 babies, I know someone who doesn't have any babies yet" or "this baby was not meant to be". I have found comfort, however, in rereading Psalm 139. I know that my God made my baby, he wove him inside me and he wrote in his book each one of his days... his short eight weeks of gestational life. He was meant to be, he was meant to be my precious little baby that only lived for that amount of time. Life is life not matter how much it lasts. I don't ask God why, because I know why: it was written in his book this way, he, in his perfect counsel, had planned it this way.

I am scarred, I know pain in a different dimension now, but I love God even more. He has sustained me and has showed me that he is a sovereign God and that nothing escapes his loving care.