Letters from Pemberley

This week has really been an up and down one for me.  I spent the first three days of it preparing for a Christmas party that no one came to (what a lesson in humility!), then I had a really blessed time getting to know three other young moms in our church better at a playdate yesterday, and last night I had a delightful experience lecturing and discussing children’s literature with homeschool parents from all around the western hemisphere (good thing I had that lesson in humility the night before!).  And today we’re back to the normal routine, so I have time to reflect a little on the might-have-beens of the past 9 months.

If our plans had succeeded, we would be having our second child sometime this week or next.  In our 21st century American confidence, we assumed that everything would be alright with the pregnancy, and we spent those first 8 weeks planning out how our December would go.  Our families would come to us for the holidays this year, of course, with a newborn, and Tommy would be a big brother before age 2!  We’d stay on track for our 6 children by age 35.  I started buying warm-weather maternity clothes and a double stroller at garage sales. 

Then the blank ultrasound screen caught us completely off guard.  We spent the next weeks and months wondering why God had let our baby die.  I worked all summer at a pregnancy center where irresponsible young girls came in every day, more often than not taking the confirmation of their pregnancy as just another burden.  Constantly, I cried out to God…we WANTED this baby…we were committed to raising him or her in the nurture and admonition of the Lord…we were blessed with a healthy marriage and stable income to be able to provide for all of the emotional and physical needs that these young moms couldn’t…why were WE the ones who miscarried?  When we found out we were pregnant again, there was excitement, but on my part, a lot of fear.  I had nightmares that I’d go in to another ultrasound room and find out that my third child had died, too, before I got a chance to meet him or her.  When I saw a healthy little body on the ultrasound screen in September, I cried with relief and joy.  Every appointment where we hear that little heartbeat has been an incredible experience.  A beating heart will never be ho-hum again!  When Derek gets to meet the baby on Monday at my 20 week ultrasound, there will be so much more thankfulness that God has brought our child safely this far.  The fragility of pregnancy is real to us now.

I’m thinking of the might-have-beens.  Would I have been capable of having a baby this week?  Well, I think so.  But God has worked a lot of things in my life in the 7 months since that baby died.  Will I be a more mature mommy-of-two this spring because of what He’s taught me about trust and patience and anxiety this past year?  I hope so.  Our first months here in Chicago would have been fundamentally different if our plans had succeeded, but I’m understanding a little bit of why this pregnancy’s timing is good, too.  For one thing, the Lord foresaw how hard it would be for us to make friends here, and He has graciously granted me more time to build relationships here before the chaos of sleep deprivation and exhaustion sets in.  He also knew that Tommy would need a lot of attention to training in righteousness this winter.  How blessed I am to have 2nd trimester energy as I work with him to listen and obey.  With only one child, we have the ability to go home to Columbia for what is possibly John’s last Christmas before deployment overseas and possibly the last Christmas we don’t have to share Peter with another family.  Even Derek’s work schedule will be much better come May.  I can’t presume to say that God worked out the timing of our family growth for any of these reasons, but I acknowledge that He has infinite wisdom while mine is warped and short-sighted.  I’m learning to say that whatever His will is, is best, no matter what I think.  I won’t understand fully until I see Him face to face, but He’s granted me peace for the here and now.   

So it’s a strange time right now–grieving the loss again but increasingly rejoicing in the blessing we look forward to in the spring.  We’ll let you know how the ultrasound goes (though don’t expect to hear the sex of the baby–you can find out with us in May)!