Miscarriage and a God Who Sees

October marks National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Month. I've thought about writing on this topic for awhile, but I can never seem to find the words.  October is a particularly fitting month for our family too, since it is the anniversary of our baby's expected due date, the child we will never meet or know in this lifetime.

I remember it well - it was fairly early in my pregnancy, and even though I was almost sure the bad news was coming, that empty ultrasound, that sure confirmation, it hit me immediately in a tidal wave of grief.  The coming weeks were met with physical pain, sadness, confusion, and depression.  And the roller coaster of hormones and emotional instability that I remembered from being postpartum with my first child, well, that was there too, and would be for weeks.  Except this time, there was no baby.

no baby.

In a matter of weeks we had arranged ourselves excitingly around this precious little one.  Now, we had grief.  And yet, in the midst of this unexpected tragedy, the demands of life continued.  Only a few close family and friends really knew what had happened, and even fewer could really understand.  We had a child to care for, work schedules to attend to, and a large financial burden of medical bills associated with our loss.

even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day, for darkness is as light with you. (Ps 139:12)

I kept trying to reason away my sadness.  I didn't even know this child.  I could try again.  But my sadness acknowledged that something significant had taken place, literally, within my own body. 
And at the heart of my grief was the awareness that God had created something beautiful and wonderful.
 
For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother's womb. (Ps 139:13)

God is the creator, and no matter how much you argue the science of cells joining and dividing and growing, it takes something divine to match a soul up to a human person.  God did not create something temporary, he created someone eternal. So I praise him.

I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. (Ps 139:14)

God doesn't promise to keep us from the tragedies of the world, and sometimes it hurts.  It really hurts.  There are a million horrors in this broken world, bringing us and our fellow man deep chasms of pain and unrest.  In the case of my child, I have learned to have peace in the not-knowing, in laying my life and the lives of those around me into the Hands that formed and began us all, the God and author of my soul.  Whom else could be better trusted with my life?

My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth.  (Ps 139:15)

Someday as we approach the throne of God, we will worship with all of the souls of heaven.  We will worship with the souls of pregnancies lost, stillborn babies, infants who died too soon.  We will worship with the souls unknown except by God, with those unwanted and those deemed unnecessary.  God has redeemed that which is broken and dead, and has seen and saved those who have gone unseen by man.

Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them. (Ps 139:16)

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About 25% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage, accounting for around 500,000 total losses each year in the US alone.  Today, I encourage you to pray for women and their families who experience loss, and become a voice of hope to prevent women and their loved ones from grieving in silence.  May we value and love every little life created by God.