I haven’t eaten Taco Bell in years. As an adult, I succumbed to the fact that my body really only ever rejected such an offering. “I’m gonna regret this,” I’d say to my high school friends when grabbing a quick burrito before practice. We all laughed. But, at some point, it wasn’t funny anymore.
I’ve suffered moderate to severe stomach pain since I was fourteen. As I write this, cramps that pulse up and down my abdomen, seemingly catching on other organs and twisting and turning make it hard to breathe. This is normal for me. And it has been for seventeen years.
I can hear my son giggling with his daddy and I think of the many moments I miss while curled over in the bathroom. I’m weary of missed moments, of asking for prayer again, of being scared to eat, of fearing the next attack. I’m weary of chronic illness. …
This article was originally published on Gospel-Centered Discipleship.
It was a warm October that year. As the leaves began to boast one last time bearing auburns and oranges before falling to their death, I suspected new life. The first signs of pregnancy found their place in the smell of a far-off unlit candle and the heaviness of my eyes. One pregnancy test later and my suspicions were confirmed. But just as we lost our first baby, this one was gone too soon, as well as our third child.
After nearly two years of walking through devastating grief on grief on grief, I was diagnosed with Recurrent Pregnancy Loss.
It was like walking through a season of storms and steady rain. The storms are like tsunamis, threatening to overtake and drown your life in sorrow. Once the storm is hushed, you’re left with unrelenting rain—the steady undertone of sadness as you learn to live without the babies you’d hoped would be part of your life. …
Tim Challies has deeply encouraged and impacted so many writers over the years, including myself. Just in my small writer’s group of six women, we each could name the many ways he has spurred us on not just as writers but as disciples of Jesus.
So when I heard the devastating news of the loss of his dear son, my heart was crushed. I looked into the eyes of my one-year-old son and couldn’t fathom the depth of grief my brother and sister in Christ are facing. So today, I’m joining my fellow writers and pausing to pray for the Challies family.
Oh God, we lament with this dear family over the loss of their beloved son. We weep with them and cannot imagine the grief they are experiencing. You know, Lord. You see. You understand. You care. You draw near to the broken-hearted. You are not far off. No Lord, you’re carrying them through.…
The pain of watching the ultrasound tech search for that once-obvious baby while contractions pulsed and tears filled my eyes, was one of the most traumatic things I’ve experienced both physically and emotionally.
The anxiety caused my body to shake uncontrollably as three words slipped from my lips.
“There’s nothing there.”
Just one week prior, my baby’s heartbeat was flickering on that screen as my heart overflowed with hope and gratitude. But now, the Lord had chosen to take that life away. And I was left with an empty womb, a head full of theology and a heart still asking, “Why Lord?”
The Answers Won’t Suffice
“Why?” is a silly question for a sovereign God. At times we may ask it from a humble heart, but other times it jumps off our tongue as a demand for answers.…
Two tears fell to the pages of my Bible one after the other as lament sprung from my lips. More tears followed. Words could no longer be spoken with clarity and I took comfort in the fact that the Spirit was interceding the groans of my heart. Groans like, “Lord, why do you keep taking my babies?” and “I’m so weary of this grief.” and “help.”
Three years ago today, we lost our first baby, ushering us into a world of chaos and suffering that went on for some time. It was a season of Psalms. Recurrent miscarriage with a layer of childlessness will cause a woman to sit there awhile, echoing heartfelt prayers of previous suffering saints. It’ll cause a woman to “drench her couch with her weeping” as I did that day (Psalm 6:6). Surely, “my eyes wasted away with grief” (Psalm 6:7).…
It’s my first Mother’s Day with a baby on my hip and we’re in self-isolation. I hadn’t even thought about it until others brought it to my attention. And truly, it makes no difference to me. But many women are saddened by the reality that they can’t attend church on this special day. I’ve been thinking about this holiday in years past and how hard it was at times. I was pondering what I might feel if I was still struggling with childlessness.
While some women might be sad about missing church on Mother’s Day this year, I know some of you are relieved.
This is the first year you don’t have to make the hard decision to either stay home for fear of salt being poured in your wound, or go knowing you’ll have to hide your grief until you’ve found a safe place to cry out, “how long, O Lord?”…