Comfort in Coincidences – Part II: A Story I Never Thought I’d Write

“Now, one week since the storm commenced, I know which direction to write in, because God has led me straight to it through multiple ‘coincidences’ that simultaneously silenced, shook, and solaced me.”

 I wrote those words in a blog titled “Comfort in Coincidences” back in October. I wouldn’t have thought, not in a million years, that I’d be writing a Part II less than three months later. But here I am, sitting here at the kitchen table on a beautiful Sunday afternoon, marveling at the inexplicable peace I feel in the face of yet another pregnancy loss.

If you’re part of our community at 925 Strong, then you may know that Ben and I were thrilled to be expecting an August baby.[1] We had our first loss (a “chemical pregnancy”) in mid October, then got pregnant again a month later, making the holiday season an especially joyous time for us. However, on New Year’s Day, just four days before our scheduled initial appointment with our midwife, I began spotting.

I don’t wish to get “TMI” here, but it’s relevant to note that spotting can be, and often is, completely harmless during the first trimester of pregnancy, especially if it isn’t accompanied by cramping. Still, I had one of those “off” feelings and immediately headed with Ben to a nearby urgent care (being a Saturday, and New Year’s Day no less, it was the only place available for me to go).

After an hour or so of waiting, an ultrasound tech showed up and began examining…well…you know what. It didn’t take long for me to see the bad news subtly written on her brow and in her eyes as she focused intently on the monitor. She wasn’t at liberty to say it, but her stone-faced expression, and for lack of a better term, the icy vibes in the room told me the baby was, if not deceased, then doing very, very poorly.

When the technician was done, she swiftly gathered her equipment and exited the room, leaving Ben and me to wait anxiously while the radiologist reviewed the ultrasound images.

I tried steeling myself with deep, steady breaths.

I forced my mind to think positively, if only for nanoseconds at a time.

I definitely prayed.

And prayed…

But when the doctor slowly opened the door, and sadly informed us that the baby was measuring a week smaller than he or she should have been and that there was neither heartbeat nor movement detected, there was nothing that could stop the sting of tears at the back of my throat and the unbearable hollow sensation of my heart just beginning to break. 

Every single night throughout the pregnancy, Ben and I prayed. For the Lord to protect the baby. For Him to prevent any and all complications. To bless us with a safe, smooth labor and delivery as He did with our firstborn.

As soon as we got home from the urgent care and shared the news with my father-in-law, who’d been watching our son, the three of us prayed a new prayer...

For the Lord to give us peace.

For Him to provide the comfort, grace, and strength we’d need to endure the loss of a second precious baby.

To bless my body with the ability to pass the “pregnancy tissue” naturally and that it would happen relatively quickly.

We embraced.

We wept.

Ben and I went to bed and lay in silence, the nightmare of the past three hours making sleep almost impossible. 

When I awoke the next morning, the cramps began, and by 9 p.m., our baby was no longer in my womb.

I’ve titled this blog “Comfort in Coincidences – Part II” because, yet again, the Lord was so faithful to provide Ben and me with ample evidence of not only His presence throughout this trial, but of His kindness and mercy, too; below are a few examples.

Since getting that first positive pregnancy test, I was eagerly awaiting my initial prenatal appointment with our midwife. It was scheduled for today, actually: Monday, January 4th. Had I gone in today, having not yet begun to bleed, thinking everything was normal, and not heard a heartbeat at the appointment, I would have been utterly shocked…stunned…confused…terrified…and obligated to make a separate ultrasound appointment and hope that the absent heartbeat was a fluke.

Instead, God gave me a less shocking, though no less heartrending, indication that the pregnancy was failing. He prepared my mind by letting my eyes see what my body had already been preparing for for over a week.

Additionally, because we went to urgent care, Ben was able to be there with me during the ultrasound, unlike our forthcoming initial ultrasound appointment in which spouses aren’t allowed. He was there by my side, his presence an impregnable pillar from the moment we stepped into the treatment room and all throughout the agonizing process. I can’t imagine enduring those few grim hours without him close by.

Another blessing is that exactly 24 hours after learning our baby was in heaven, my body released him or her naturally. No medication. No surgery. No painful or prolonged ordeal. What’s more, when it happened, my in-laws, Ben and I had just finished a Scrabble game, so my in-laws were there with us to conduct a modest funeral outside under the stars. Had the baby passed just five minutes later, they would have been gone, leaving Ben and I to bear that heavy burden alone.

And now for a final “God wink,” as I’m fond of calling these “coincidences”…

On New Year’s Eve, Ben’s aunt made a surprise visit with her husband from Nebraska. She brought me a small bouquet of lovely pink flowers, which was just perfect for the baby’s grave (a grave covered with a limestone slab we just happened to have lying beside our driveway). The color of the bouquet is especially sweet to me, as all along I had a very strong hunch the baby was a girl.

Okay, I thought I was done, but I feel led – though some of you may find this a bit of a stretch...— to share that just last night, I felt the Lord lead me to count the number of days that the baby was alive in my womb.

Forty-six.

After less than a minute of digging online, I found that the number 46 is mentioned just once in all of Scripture:

 “It has taken forty-six years to build this temple, and you are going to raise it in three days?” (John 2:20, NIV)

This verse comes from the account of Jesus angrily clearing the temple courts of animals and corrupt moneychangers. When questioned about His authority to do this, Jesus said He could destroy the temple and raise it back up in three days. The skeptical Jews responded by pointing out that it had taken 46 years to construct the building. Jesus, of course, was metaphorically speaking of His own imminent death and resurrection.

After reading the verse, the Lord reminded me that in the Bible, the human body is likened to a temple[2], and that although our baby was tiny, not fully formed, and lived just 46 days, his or her body was sacred too, and will be resurrected into a glorified body one glorious day.[3]

And just as Lazaraus’s family didn’t understand Jesus’ delay in resurrecting him, they ultimately saw that the Lord’s plan and purpose were perfect. And I know that one day, Ben and I will also have our questions answered, and bow down in awe of the One who never leaves us, never forsakes us, and works all things together for good[4], even if that good won’t be understood until we’re standing beyond the veil, when the sting of death is vanquished, and the grave conquered once and for all.   

BONUS COINCIDENCE:

The day after I wrote this post, a sweet friend and her five-year-old daughter, who watch our son twice a week, came over, care package and handmade card in hand. My friend said that on Sunday, her little girl informed her that she wanted to draw me a picture out of the blue.

This is what she drew:

The first thing I saw was Ben, the baby, and me (though a friend has pointed out that it could also be me and Jesus with the baby moving toward Him). I asked my friend’s daughter if that was my baby and she gave me a quizzical expression (she didn’t yet know about our loss!) and said she’d drawn baby Jesus, Joseph, and Mary.

I am convinced the Lord dropped that image into her precious, tender heart to encourage Ben and me, to remind us that our beloved unborn child is in His presence, experiencing a level of joy and happiness that we cannot know this side of paradise.

I will never forget the moment I received that marvelous gift, nor the big-hearted five-year-old who created it for us, unwittingly sending us a heaven-sent message of hope, peace, and much-needed strength.

Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow.

– James 1:17

[1] As you probably figured out, Ben and I don’t wait, as many do, until after the first trimester to share that we’re expecting. There are pros and cons to this decision, of course, but in the long run, I’m grateful to be able to share both our joy, and our sorrow, with those we care about and who care about us.

[2] 1 Corinthians 6:19-20; 1 Corinthians 3:16-17

[3] 1 Corinthians 15:35-58; Philippians 3:21; 2 Corinthians 5:3; 1 John 3:2

[4] Romans 8:28