There are some conversations that make us so uncomfortable, we’d rather just avoid them altogether. Maybe it reveals something about my rebellious side, but there is a part of me that believes the more difficult a conversation is to have, the more we really need to have that conversation.
Even so, this is one of those exchanges that I now realize I’ve been dodging for some time. Partly that is because I needed time to grieve and process, and partly that is because we’ve been walking through a lot in the months since. And while those are valid reasons for delaying a very vulnerable yet public discussion, lately I’ve been unable to argue with the realization that this procrastination might also be rooted in an unshakable desire to present pretty pictures.
The truth is, there is nothing pretty or easy about pregnancy loss.
Even just the words “pregnancy loss” cause discomfort or maybe even a sense of urgency to flee the conversation. And yet because this subject is one that our society has been all too happy to avoid altogether, chances are you or someone you know has suffered such tremendous loss silently.
Had I known that the outcome of our embryo transfer last November would end in pregnancy loss, I may not have shared our plans with anyone. I can’t say for certain that I ever would have been ready to talk about the loss we’ve experienced. But as it was, most everyone knew our intentions, and that didn’t really give us the option to hide.
I’ve been pretty upfront about my hesitation to get excited about embryo adoption… about how I held my breath, skeptically waiting for something to come up that would remove this option from our grasp. Yet the farther in to the process we trekked, the closer we were to bringing those embryos home with us, the more confidence we had that this was God’s plan to grow our family all along. Pregnancy was a desire I had surrendered to God long ago, and yet little by little my heart began clenching around a deep yearning once again.
As we narrowed down genetic family profiles and learned specifics about the stories that lead to the existence of those precious lives that we would be bringing home, it became less and less about the desire to carry a baby, to feel them kick, or to experience my husband as a labor coach, and more about the individual lives that we knew without reservation were always meant to be in our family. I no longer desired simply to have a child. I loved our child(ren) and desperately longed to hold them in my arms, to teach them, and to watch them grow up.
With each blood test and ultrasound that confirmed medications were working as intended, I grew more confident that we would end up where we desired to be within about 9 months – parenthood. What I once had a difficult time allowing myself to feel excitement over had grown into carefree anticipation.
And just like that, it was all taken away.
If I was better than I am, maybe I would’ve held my head up high while joyfully proclaiming that God still has a plan! But crumpled on the ground amidst the fragments of a fresh and fragile confidence that had crashed beneath me, all that I could offer was a heartbroken, “Why?“.
I couldn’t understand why God would open so many doors – why He would seemingly bless each step forward – only to lead us to a pit of more darkness and despair than we’d ever known. Deep down, I knew that God was still good, but in that moment, I could not reconcile that truth with what He’d allowed to happen. I was hurt, confused, and afraid of His plan for us. Admittedly, I was also embarrassed to be in the position of having to share this very raw part of our lives with so many around us. Even though we were assured that we hadn’t done anything wrong, and that sometimes this sort of thing just happens (most commonly a condition of the embryos), I couldn’t help but question what people would think it meant about me.
In addition to all of that, and perhaps the hardest of it all, was the anger I felt toward God for hurting my husband in this way. Wrestling through my own grief was hard enough. Watching my beloved do so was almost unbearable.
Today, I recount those feelings and questions, and am overwhelmed by all of the ways God has faithfully increased my understanding of His perfect character. I cannot deny my own unlovable heart and selfishness, or His gentle and loving pursuit of me and Kelly through the darkest days of our lives thus far. Had I responded perfectly instead of honestly with the God who knows my every thought, I may have missed the opportunity to feel His grace and mercy in light of my shortcomings.
Oftentimes, we are quick to want healing and happiness for our loved ones. It’s a subconscious disposition I have with myself too – pushing myself to go to the mindset I know I ought to have rather than calling Jesus in to the mess and the muck of where I actually am. Pregnancy loss pushed me so far out of my own ability to stand on my own, that my only remaining option was to dig in to scripture and petition God to carry me when my legs wouldn’t work.
It has been almost four months since the day we learned those three little embryos of ours didn’t make it. And while I can’t imagine I will ever say I’m thankful for pregnancy loss, I will forever be thankful for the promise that even such devastation can and will be used for ultimate good (Romans 8:28).
We try to call out those small victories when we notice them… one of which we recognized soon after those inevitable conversations around our pregnancy loss… folks began opening up to us about difficult things they were walking through. Sharing our struggles gave others permission to share theirs – a very basic and yet often overlooked understanding of our humanity. This conversation that so many choose to avoid has blessed us in ways I never would have imagined. It has allowed us to weep with friends who are also deep in the trenches of this broken world, to understand that nothing we say or do can expedite the pain and sorrow for others, and to cling more tightly to the ultimate hope that isn’t rooted in whether we will get our wishes tomorrow, but rather in an eternity that is guaranteed forever.
