Miscarriage. When There Isn't A Grave...

It was the saddest day of my life. You cannot ever prepare yourself for the heart-gasping sadness of a miscarriage. Michael and I were married less than a year but had just begun trying to get pregnant. We were extremely excited for the arrival of this baby and had just told our family and close friends. At 10 weeks, we lost him. And although we barely had opportunity to dream and plan our lives with him, something about his short life changed us.

I just read this article about the Duggars miscarriage and was appalled that there was negative feedback concerning how they chose to grieve their loss. I'm certain those who so arrogantly feel they can comment in disrespect have not experienced the pain of a miscarriage or still-born baby. Everyone should have the right to honor their sadness in whatever way they choose. Unfortunately, we live in a culture that is extremely narrow-minded about grief.

I discovered something very tragic and heart-breaking, hypocritical and mean about people as I grieved our loss. People don't put their money where their mouth is. Evangelicals who are staunch pro-lifers, would not allow me the same time-off as policy gave those who "lost a child." The space and comfort needed to be sad was rarely granted. I guess when there isn't a specific framework for a certain kind of loss, time to heal isn't necessary. I guess, when it comes to days off, life doesn't really begin at conception.

After many months, with the help of counseling and, let's be honest, the pregnancy of Nico (2 months post-miscarriage), I now realize this is one of those situations that is neither one thing or another. Meaning, a first or second trimester baby isn't considered a baby, medically. It can't live outside of the mother and so it's considered a fetus: tissue and organs and a beating heart. To grieve it like the loss of a child therefore, in this culture, seems dramatic and attention-seeking.

But for those of us who believe differently, that the life of a baby begins at conception, we need to find ways to bring honor to death. And that's the challenge. Because for us, he was more than tissue and organs and a beating heart. He was our son. A dream. A hope. Something and someone to be honored. Without a "funeral" or a body to cremate or bury, how is that grief made tangible, justifiable, excusable? Even people who believe like us, that his life mattered, didn't know how to process this, how to honor baby and parents.

In the end, I wrapped his tiny bloody cocoon-covered body in tissue and Michael planted him under our weeping cherry tree. It seemed appropriate to us - a weeping, living home to honor what he could have been...happy, growing, thriving, beautiful.

As a mother of two children, I can appreciate the difference between the baby I miscarried and the lives of my two living babies, like, the older my children are, the more love I have for them. I feel like my heart grows with my children. But I fail to see how the grief of my tiny baby is somehow less valid, because I grieved it less than I would grieve the (God-forbid) loss of one of my living children.

I guess I just want to say, there should be more "room" in this society to grieve this kind of loss; the kind ceremonies and graves can't mark. After all, a divorce, an irreconcilable difference that divides friends, a miscarriage... these have elements of death, some more than others. Because something is gone, forever, that could have been.

I'm sorry for the Duggers. And I'm sad for me, for us. I'm sorry for the many, many parents who have miscarried and I pray they find comfort in whatever means seems right to them, to honor their loss and their broken hope. I pray we as a society begin to allow the expression of pain (in friendship and in policy), even when there isn't a grave.

I Don't Believe in Proselytizing

Does that make me a bad evangelical? Truth be told, I struggle with the concept of standard "missions" - you know, the kind that goes into the jungle and tries to convert hungry, disease-ridden natives and then quickly forces that culture to comply with whatever nuance the missionary adheres to. (Often a western-culture Christian mindset that prescribes long skirts and a covering of the breasts, with an anti-polygamy, slightly sexist, and overly legalistic view on faith., etc...) I think a lot of people struggle with that. I'm glad to be part of a church organization that brings something of substance and USE to people all over the world, along with the good news of Jesus. Because the reality is, if you're hungry, you'll say anything to get some bread. If you're sick, you'll pray to any god for healing. If you're suffering, you'll ask any Deity for comfort. Missionaries who bring words, but no useful earthly service are, rather ironically, useless. Foreign missions by way of medical aid, education and clean water ALONG with the message of Hope, is Truth manifested in flesh. This is effective Jesus work.

But most of us aren’t going to travel overseas to live. Most of us aren’t “called” to be missionaries. So what does that mean for us? What about my friends and neighbors here in the States who don't believe in Jesus (the same way I do.) Conservatives all over the world would say it's my job to also save them, to quote Scripture at them and plead that they accept the Lord lest they burn in hell for eternity. After all, that's how I got "saved,” (running to the alter time and time again, knowing, just KNOWING if I died in a car accident on my way home I likely didn't have assurance of salvation. ...For those who aren't "churched," this is otherwise known as a standard alter-call.)

I don't know. This may sound like a total cop-out but, I don't think I have an evangelistic "call." I simply don't believe in proselytizing in Western society, with our Christian branding and well-financed "biblical" marketing. If someone doesn't know or believe in Jesus, they quite clearly don't WANT to. My 'witness' - by way of offensive facebook posts, Scripture quoting, door to door 'sales,' and blasting K-Love Christian radio from my car in order to convert people - is just annoying. Nothing more and nothing less.

Don't misunderstand. I believe in the saving power of Jesus Christ. I believe in the Holy Spirit; the holy catholic church; the communion of saints; the forgiveness of sins; the resurrection of the body; and the life everlasting. (Apostles Creed) This means, YES, I DO BELIEVE in a REAL heaven and a REAL hell. And I do believe the Scriptures are inerrant, God-breathed. So how then do I NOT believe in proselytizing? Doesn't the Bible command followers of Jesus to GO, SHARE, CONVERT?

Well, maybe. Sort of. I'm not SURE that directive was and is for everyone. But one thing I AM certain about is that 'The Great Commission' isn't a mandate to be an asshole. I sort of think this; people want to be known by friends. People trust their friends and being a friend means loving and appreciating and understanding one another. And I'm pretty sure, for the majority of us Christians, friendship is the only context in which faith-sharing should be done and is most effective.

People already HAVE the information. What's missing is the heart and relationship of it all. Jesus didn't go around talking a big game. Or quoting the Scriptures all day. In fact, He mostly only quoted Scripture to antagonize and discredit the hypocritical church-folk, the Pharisees. One third of Jesus' ministry was teaching, yes. But the other two-thirds was deliverance and healing. He was the Son of God and STILL felt it necessary to BRING something to the table other than a bunch of words.

I believe in just living, out loud. The power of being and doing Jesus-work (loving God, loving people). If you're a Christian, your faith will come up in conversation. . . like in why you forgive and choose to continue to love people who have hurt you, why you give to the poor, why you take care of your property, why you don’t cheat on your taxes. Questions will arise as to why you still have hope in the midst of suffering. There's NO need to go around, with a chip on your shoulder, hitting people over the head with the Bible to PROVE a point and CONVERT THE SINNER. Some of the meanest people claim to be filled with the Holy Ghost.

Perhaps, that's the point. At the end of the day, "missions" isn't a thing. It's a person, and that person is a man or a woman with a mind and a heart. Jesus isn't a mission and He didn't treat people like notches on a belt, marks on a scorecard, or points on a gameshow. Instead, He went to the heart and the mind of those with whom He shared His life and that truly IS all of us. The real "mission" shouldn't be about a conversion. Instead, it should be a conversation, an offering of love and sincerity that convinces a friend of one simple truth - that the way I (we) value their heart is but a pale reflection of how much Jesus will do the same

It's Hard, But He's Harder - Solid Rock In Fact.

My husband begins his last semester of grad school tomorrow. And will work on completing 100 hours of internship. He works a full-time job. And is in the process of scouting for policy jobs.

He's a father and husband too.

We're insane.

I'm reminded of the truth that the darkest part of the night is right before dawn. I'm anticipating an all-and-all out sprint to the finish over the next several months, a testing of endurance like none other in our lives because, can I just say? This is hard.

"Hard" has become my go-to description word. When someone asks me (REALLY asks me and CARES about an honest answer) how I'm doing it - balancing the craziness and being a single mother a few days a week, working part-time, managing my household, and so on - all I can really say is, it's hard. I feel tired, pretty much all the time. Layers and layers of exhaustion. (This is why I believe in the power of make-up. And coffee.)

Sometimes, I find myself just pissed. And I can't always put a finger on why. (hormones, maybe?) Mostly, I think it's just life right now. A new friend recently put the mother-of-an-infant-angst into these words, "What are you going to do? Be mad at the baby? No, so you just get mad at everything else." And it's so true. (but sometimes I admit, I DO get mad at the baby. 'SLEEP, DAMN IT!' *ducks*)
I know, I know. My kids are healthy and beautiful and I have everything I ever wanted. I get that. I appreciate that and thank God for those things every day.

This is still hard. We are still so, so tired. Our marriage is more like two trains passing in the night. Date Night's so easily become business meetings and sex? Well, we try. *yawn*

Michael and I talked about hope recently. It's what gets us through. In four months, these times will be distant memories and a new chapter will begin. A wonderful, new beginning, somewhere in this grand world... All we need to do is hope for it. Keep our eyes on it. Follow the course and not waiver in our resolve to finish, and finish well.

But, it's hard. It's hard to hope in the unseen when you're in the midst of the day-to-day grind. We need something tangible to plant our feet in, to hold us in place when the waves of exhaustion and marital disagreements and parental confusion seeks to knock us down and distract us from the end just in sight. We need Jesus.

It's only in the arms of our Savior that we can endure. Yes it's hard. But He's harder - made of solid rock, a sure foundation. I don't know what we'd do without the stability of our faith.

Psalm 62
Truly my soul finds rest in God; my salvation comes from him.
Truly he is my rock and my salvation; he is my fortress, I will never be shaken...
My salvation and my honor depend on God: he is my mighty rock, my refuge. Trust in him at all times, you people; pour out your hearts to him, for God is our refuge...
One thing God has spoken, two things I have heard: “Power belongs to you, God, and with you, Lord, is unfailing love”; and, “You reward everyone according to what they have done.”