I heard Him say, “I died for your miscarriage.”
This Christmas was supposed to be one of tiny toys, awe of lights and Christmas morning magic. It’s been 14 years since the “first Christmas” of my oldest, and this Christmas I was able to start all over and do it again, something I had prayed about for many, many years. As our first Christmas of a family of four, I was giddy to repeat old traditions and begin new ones. And in the giddy-ness and excitement of this new season, weeks prior I discovered that I had a big secret for my family for this Christmas as well. That not only would this be our first Christmas of a family of four, it would also be our last.
I discovered this secret a few weeks before Christmas. Confused, shocked and excited, I began planning on how to tell my family. Being that my most recent pregnancy required much planning, pills, tests and doctor visits, I was overjoyed that God saw fit for my body and my mind to not have to go through all of that again. For once, looking at a pregnancy test, I could smile from ear to ear and think, “what a sweet surprise!” I quickly decided to tell my husband and kids (mainly the oldest, the youngest isn’t quite at the age of comprehension) with a tiny onesie that matched our Christmas pajamas, to open last on Christmas morning.
As days went by I was able to watch my family with new eyes, a different perspective. As my husband played on the floor with our baby boy, I gazed in wonder if a new baby boy or baby girl would be joining in the crawling and giggling fun. I watched my daughter, who is the most amazing big sister, and imagined her toting two big babies on her hips, dancing around the room, and telling them “Sissy loves you.” I would hold my baby boy, knowing his last days in my lap with a bottle are coming, and wonder what kind of a big brother he would be.
I kept all of these secrets and scenes close to my heart. So, as the days seemed brighter, and my secret harder and harder to hold tight to myself, you can imagine my gut wrenching fear when I began bleeding a week before Christmas. I found comfort in friends telling their stories of bleeding and still keeping their pregnancy. I prayed desperately for God to hold me close and give me a Christmas Miracle. I sought out prayer from women that I trust to fervently pray for me and my family. But when the results of lab tests came back and the bleeding only grew worse, I knew my requested Christmas Miracle wasn’t coming.
You can be overjoyed for where you are and grieve the place you thought you would be at the same time. I was overjoyed Christmas morning watching the surprise in my baby boy’s eyes with his first Christmas. I was overjoyed by the pure excitement in my teenage girl’s laughter and smile as she watched and attempted to help her baby brother open presents. I mourned the thought that my final gift to my family wasn’t wrapped and under the tree anymore. I mourned the plan in my head for next Christmas with a family of 5. I held it together by remembering that Christmas truly isn’t about “present” moments, but about the miraculous birth of our Savior and why He came to earth.
It wasn’t until days after Christmas that I finally had my breakdown. One beautiful wedding, one big Mother-in-law hug, a sleeping baby, the absence of my teenager and a long, dark drive home felt like the appropriate time to finally let it all out. As Maverick City Music played on the radio and the car lights zoomed past, I wept uncontrollably in the passenger’s seat, not understanding why, not only this miscarriage, and timing of, but the lack of being able to maintain a pregnancy in general would ever be an issue. The only words I could mutter to my husband, worried and trying to get us home, were “I have never felt so broken in my life.” And that’s when I heard it. The words were straightforward yet confusing. They were gentle, yet stern in meaning. I didn’t understand at first, the words didn’t make any sense. Through my broken crying, Jesus said, “I died for your miscarriage.”
I wonder if sometimes we get caught up in specific words and forget their meaning. In our Christian world bubble we hear words so many times, maybe we become immune to their general definition. When I heard Him say that He died for my miscarriage, I thought, “no, You died for my sins.” Why would He say He died for my miscarriage? But the truth is He did. Jesus died for our sins, for the sins of the world. He died for the flesh, the flesh that we cannot physically detach ourselves from. He died for this curse of the world, and the effect it has on His people. Therefore, there will still be pain, there will still be disease, there will still be illnesses, and infertility. There will be hurt on this earth, in this flesh, no matter who we are or how holy we try to be. Jesus died for our sins, yes, but in broad perspective, He died for the brokenness of this world. My sins, my broken body, the flesh I cannot separate myself from until He calls me home to an eternity of praising Him in a perfect body.
The word “sin” isn’t to be taken lightly, but to be broken down and understood. Sometimes our perspective of sin means that we are bad… but instead of just bad, He died because we are weak, we are helpless and hopeless without Him. The cross that Jesus died on for us, isn’t just about doing bad things, but how we are affected by this broken and cursed world. Jesus died for my miscarriage, not for the hope of a Christmas Miracle, but hope of an eternity with Him, and no more brokenness. As He did for you. He didn’t die so you can stop sinning and live a perfect life here on earth, but so that through these earthly trials you face, you can have strength and hope in Him, who died for you, and is preparing a perfect place for you in His perfect, painless presence.
I will have more pain here. I will probably have more positive pregnancy tests that result in grieving and mourning. I will have doctor’s visits that will break my heart. But none of these will break my spirit, because Jesus died for them all on a cross, to take my place in the pain and give me an eternity of peace. As He did for you, and I pray this story of a Christmas miscarriage can give you hope in waiting as well.
