I dislike the word miscarriage.... it sounds like a mistake, a misfortune, an accident of nature.
And I don't believe it is.
So much care, so much attention to detail, so much love goes into everything God makes.
And He doesn't give up on anything He's created.
He makes no mistakes.
Our baby was created for an eternal home.
God gave us a name the week before our baby passed into His arms.
Nation.
What a name. What a promise.
We don't consider that we have lost our baby, only gained another one in heaven.
We're walking through this right now and taking one day at a time. I'm just waiting on my body to complete the process of a 'spontaneous miscarriage' as the medical professionals so term it. And I think the waiting is one of the hardest parts.
Monday morning, I walked into the Emergency Room knowing something was terribly wrong. Joel was a few steps behind me having just dropped me off and then parked the truck. They admitted me into one of their cold impersonal rooms and when I turned around I saw Joel enter with a slip of paper in his hands.
He told me a man he didn't recognize had walked up to him as he stepped through the doors and handed him this paper then turned around and left.
He unfolded it, read it, and then passed it to me.
There were only these words, but they were like a balm to my soul:
"Blessed shall be the fruit of your womb and the fruit of your ground and the fruit of your cattle, the increase of your herds and the young of your flock."Deuteronomy 28:4: a promise I often cling to; my lifeline now.
