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Peace Seeker: Trust During the Storm

I am typically a “glass half full” tope person. There are many things I am forced to be a realist about, and depending on the situation I can even be a “glass half empty” person. On a typical day though, I am positive and try to see the good.

So a month ago, we received devastating news concerning our unborn baby. I have debated sharing the official diagnosis and even as I type, I am still unsure. I was seen immediately by a specialist who confirmed the diagnosis.

That’s hard stuff to process, to live with. And I will be honest, it still is.

4 weeks. I have cried, I have gotten angry, I have retreated, but I have tried. I have tried to keep my hope and trust in the Lord, the one who has everything safely in the palm of His hand.

I have a friend on Facebook who is passionately against abortion. I cry afresh when I see his posts and realize there are women willingly doing this. I have pregnant friends. I have very few posts complaining about pregnancy and I am grateful. Still, I have had to take a step back from my online accounts.

I allowed hope to brew up inside me. I am a bit of a “told you so” personality and the Doctor we have is very direct. And tends to repeat things. So I had this dream of going to yesterday’s ultrasound and seeing a healthy, complete baby and being able to set this nightmare behind us.

I randomly had stuck baby’s last ultrasound pictures into my Bible while cleaning. Yesterday I opened my Bible and where the photos were was in Jeremiah.

Jeremiah 18:4 “And the vessel he was making of clay was spoiled in the potter’s hand, and he reworked it into another vessel, as it seemed good to the potter to do.”

“as it seemed good to the potter to do.”

The Potter who holds me, molds me, reworks me to remove imperfections, at this time has chosen not to do the same for the precious life within me.

I confess, something died within me as the doctor stood before my husband and I and repeated over and over and over and over this terrible, heart-wrenching phrase:

“There is no hope.”

And yes, I know my God is not limited by doctors and ultrasounds. However I do know He sometimes asks us to walk pain filled paths. And it seems that is what I must choose to accept.

As we waited behind a smiling, happy couple at the office who excitedly scheduled their next appointment, I held back my tears. She paged through the information she was holding and he kept smiling at her. The older, grandmotherly woman at the window scheduled our next appointment in four weeks. She pretended not to notice my sobs as a mother in the waiting room tried to calm her screaming newborn. Each wail was like a sucker punch, a reminder that I won’t hear that cry wake me from my sleep. Each wail a reminder that too soon, the life inside me will cease and be in Heaven.

This is the stage of pregnancy where most women are tested for gestational diabetes. I won’t be. This is the stage where you start to panic a bit about the baby room, and names, and car seats. I won’t.

Instead I am trying to find the words to prepare my six year old that this baby won’t come live with us. I am trying to find enough hope in my heart to pass to him. I am trying to emotionally prepare but truth be told, I don’t have the slightest idea where to start.

I hate pain. However, I will take the long, painful labor with my first child over this emotional pain.  If I could rush to a hospital for C-section, I would. If I could do anything just to know that physically I will heal and have a healthy baby at the end, I would. I don’t have that option. That’s not my path.

One month. In just one month, unless something happens before then, this wound will be ripped open and cut a little deeper. Again. In 4 weeks I should be 29 weeks pregnant. I should be. Maybe I will be. But it won’t be the typical, the fairly normal.

When we were first told, as we processed and dealt with the news I wondered: How do you continue to love someone you will never actually learn to know? I found my way through that, somewhat. I cradle my belly at nighttime, it’s part of why I continue to sing with my church worship team.

Oh how I wish this post was more upbeat and positive sounding. It’s real. It’s raw. And far from pretty and perfect. This is my life though. It is processing that this is our reality. And we aren’t doing each other any favors in life if we aren’t real. Not that we complain about everything, all the time. Being real isn’t always sunshine and roses, though sometimes it is. Being real means facing your reality and saying: “this is tough stuff and I need some support.”

My worship pastor sent me these verses and it’s what I keep reading today:

“You keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you, because he trusts in you . Trust in the Lord forever, for the Lord God is an everlasting rock.” Isaiah 26: 3&4

Because he’s my worship pastor, I’ve just been reading the text, I haven’t actually double checked it. So if it’s wrong, you can let him know! HAHA I joke, I joke.

I do trust God. I have to keep my mind on Him because otherwise all the other things that float into my thoughts would drive me to a place of anger and frustration. A place of self medicating and sin. And I can’t go back. He is holding me, carrying me, and making me capable to withstand the temptations and to walk with Him through each day.

Continue to pray for us.

And everyone, enjoy your Thanksgiving!

Love, Rachelle

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