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. …
When my eyes awakened to the morning light after another nearly sleepless night of pain, I immediately realized it would be a rough day. I slowly turned over, bringing my knees together in my venture to leave the bed. With every inch of movement—deep, sharp pain. My weak body popped and crackled, causing my face to grimace. Limping to the bathroom, I thanked the Lord I could still walk today, though every step ushered in pelvic pain.
All Grass Has Brown Spots
If I’m honest, though our losses have given me a perspective I know I’d have lacked before regarding pregnancy, I still have moments where my physical endurance comes up short. I haven’t shared fully about the struggles this pregnancy has brought to my body because I never want to tempt anyone’s heart toward bitterness. Nor do I want others to assume I’m ungrateful. Truly, I’ve learned what a beautiful gift it is to be able to carry a child in the womb which enables me to face these things with joy even if I am weary of shots in my sides and Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction (look it up) which causes deep pain with every movement.…