The Heartbreak of My Miscarriage

The first and only time I saw the baby was in the emergency room. The ultrasound technician was using a scope and the monitor was turned enough my way that I could see everything.
I saw the most precious silhouette...a perfectly formed head, little nose, little chin, tiny torso...and no heartbeat.
This wasn't my first rodeo; being baby number three I had seen my share of ultrasounds, and I was well aware that there should have been a quickly beating glowing thing shouting "I'm alive". There was nothing there.
I knew. I knew right away. I looked at the technician and said, "there's no heartbeat". She sadly shook her head and told me she was going to get the doctor.
My tears began to flow and I whispered, "the Lord gives, and the Lord takes away...blessed be the name of the Lord."
The thing is, the Lord had given this baby at a time when I wasn't too excited to receive it. We had two little girls already and they were proving to be quite the challenge. I had finally lost my baby weight and was feeling svelte and we were getting beyond the terrible toddler years...and, well, this baby seemed a tad inconvenient.
I had never, ever, never, never thought of abortion; but I did think of how sucky it was to start the ride all over again. By ride I mean morning sickness that never stops, naps that don't feel restful, round ligament pain, weight gain, sore backs, sleepless nights...there didn't seem anything thrilling to look forward to and I was mad.
Have I offended anyone yet?
6 weeks in I had the initial "yep, you're preggers" appointment and I heard the heartbeat. 8 weeks in I was barfing more than a bulimic showgirl (I actually don't know how much they barf, it just seemed an interesting comparison), but the sickness was easier than with my other two and I was a bit concerned. I went to my OB/GYN and he heard the heartbeat and told me all seemed well. By around 11 or 12 weeks I was sitting outside in the early spring air, watching my little daughters chasing each other around a tree, when I had a vision of a third child in the mix. I could hear three giggles, I could see three sets of dancing eyes.
It was then that I not only came to terms with having a third child, but truly embraced the idea. A week later I began to bleed.
After the horrendous ER visit (re: catheterized by Mo and Curly) I went to see my OB. He was very empathetic and truly sorry; and then he told me something that truly horrified me.
Based on the size of the baby, having been examined during the procedure I underwent, it was very likely the baby died at nine weeks gestation - a week after my concern over lack of sickness...the last time I would hear the heart. So, for 4 weeks I had carried around the body of my dead child. While sick, while planning, while embracing the life coming...the child was already dead.
I was truly heartbroken. Truly just...broken.
Was it something I had done? Was it because I wasn't happy about having another? I'd had an MRI a few weeks before conceiving, was there latent MRI-iness in me?
A few days afterward I drove myself to the mall and parked way back in the parking garage and poured my brokenness out before God. I asked all the questions most people ask when staring down grief, but I had no big heavenly-voiced reply.
I did have consolation though. From my husband, my church family, and from my oldest daughter. Then four years old, we were cuddling as I put her to bed; she reached up and stroked my face and said, "I'm sorry your baby died."
Me too.
Comfort can not be appreciated more by those who are grieving. For the most part we aren't really looking for answers or cheap one-liners about God's will and Better places; we just want the hugs and the "I'm really sorry"...that's all.
Interestingly enough, days later, God Almighty comforted me in a way I would never have expected. As a believer in Jesus I am comforted to know that my death will usher me into Heaven...but what about my baby?
One afternoon I had my regularly scheduled bible study time while the girls were napping. As I was making my lunch to munch while studying a bunch, I heard this little voice whisper to my heart: "I have a word for you from Psalm 8".
Psalm 8, huh? Mmm...okay.
Sitting down to my bible, I opened to Psalm 8:

O Lord, our Lord, how majestic is your name in all the earth

You have set your glory in the heavens.

Through the praise of children and infants you have established a strong hold

against your enemies, to silence the foe and avenger.

As I read that line about children and infants, the Father whispered again "Your baby is with me, praising me."

My bible still has tear stains.

While I won't know until heaven why this baby went there first, I will know the comfort our Compassionate God had for his heartbroken daughter, and I will know I can rely on that comfort again should brokenness revisit in the future.

Christina

Just Desserts...or...They Had it Coming

I couldn't decide on a title for this blog because there are so many quips I could have used to describe the content of this post. I was afraid that "Just Desserts" might be thought of as, like, we are serving "just desserts" at our Super Bowl party, rather than it's intended "he'll get his just desserts". Also, only saying "they had it coming" could have been mistaken for an amazon package on it's way.
Either way, today's topic came to mind because I have been studying the life and times of Jesus, from the culture and geography to the traditions and history. In my studies I discovered some very interesting tidbits regarding Herod the Great; more specifically, tidbits regarding his death.
If anyone had it coming it was Herod.
Herod the murderer. Herod the blasphemer. Herod the dictator, tyrant, sycophant...the list of his criminal titles could go on and on! This is the Herod who had three of his sons executed because he felt threatened by them, who had his wife, Meriamne, killed because he thought she might be planning an affair. This is the Herod who, on his deathbed, corralled hundreds of Israel's favorite men to be executed at the moment of his death so Israel would grieve instead of rejoice the day. This is also the Herod that had Bethlehem's baby boys, aged two and under, murdered so he could extinguish the hope of Jesus' kingship.
Really, there are no words to describe how wicked and evil this man was. Only few men in history have elevated their deeds to Herodian levels, and these are the men that no one names their kids after: Antiochus Epiphanes, Nero, Stalin, Hitler...all brutal, savage, murderous. evil.
You may be interested to know that Herod's death mirrored how he lived his life: grotesque and demoralizing.
As history records it, "disease consumed him, painful symptoms wracked his entire body in pain. He only a slight fever, but his skin itched terribly all over. His intestines hurt all the time, his feet and abdomen were swollen, and his genitals were rotting with gangrene, which had become infested with maggots. Beside all this he had trouble breathing and couldn't breath at all when he sat up." (War of the Jews, Josephus)
I'm sorry, maybe it is unkind and unmerciful, but I just can't bring myself to feel sorry for the dude; even if his boy parts were covered with maggots (some attribute that a result of gonorrhea).
Another who had a rather ungentlemanly death is Joseph Stalin. According to wikipedia he was found on the floor in his room, soaked in stale urine and mumbling unintelligibly. They diagnosed him with a cerebral hemorrhage (stroke) caused by hypertension (high blood pressure), with stomach hemorrhage facilitating.^[307] He was treated in his dacha with leeches, as was customary at the time.^[308] On March 3 his double Felix Dadaev was called back from vacation to Moscow "to be ready to stand in for Stalin if needed", but he never needed to. On March 4 Stalin's illness was broadcast in the media with surprising detail such as pulse, blood pressure and urinalysis; for convenience the time of his stroke was said to be March 2 and his location as Moscow. The bedridden Stalin died on 5 March 1953, at the age of 74.^[1]

Obviously Herod had it worse, yeah, but he didn't get off quite as easy as some other villains. Hitler and Nero both committed suicide. That just don't seem right...where's the justice in a quick offing with a sword or a gun?
So what's with all the history lessons here? Well, as I was considering Herod and his wickedness I found within me this...gladness...to see that he suffered horribly at his death. Does that make me bad? I'm sure it's not all christiany to say it, but there is a big part of me that wants to see people paid back for the wrong that they do.
I have a tremendous need for JUSTICE! Perhaps that comes from that little-girl place in me that wants to be defended and protected; the little girl that wants to know the bad guys will get punished. I have a need to know that good will win and bad will lose.
Years ago Ted Bundy was wreaking havoc. Perhaps you'll remember him...the serial rapist and murderer who brutalized and terrorized the country in the 1970's by killing nearly 30 young women. This man was so evil that he would return to the bodies left in the wilderness to rot, and perform acts with their corpses. I shudder to even think of this man's evil deeds. Yet, in a recorded conversation with James Dobson, before his execution in January of 1989, Ted Bundy said he was a born-again Christian.
So, Ted Bundy is in heaven right now.
Where is the justice in that?
How does it seem like we can trust the God who promises to protect and defend us, when the bad guy goes to heaven? Is God less good because he let the bad in? Is His justice system flawed when the evil in the world are succeeding and the good, Jesus-following Christians are being murdered in their churches and homes?

There was a time not long ago that I was having a bit of a fit in my car. I mean, I was having myself a bawl-baby fit! I was crying out to the Lord and asking Him why things had to be so hard, and why can't life be a bit easier (let me be clear...I am WELL aware that my life is super awesome and blessed, especially in contrast to those in the middle east). It wasn't pretty, and it was really quite petty; nonetheless I was having a fit. It was in the middle of my pity party that the Lord spoke to my heart saying, "why do you expect life to be heaven when you aren't there yet?"
That's it. God made us "with eternity in our hearts" (Ecclesiastes 3:11) and we are heavenly minded; we are longing for the perfection of heaven in a corrupt and wicked world. It's not going to be perfect here. Jesus told us that: "in this world you will have trouble, but take heart, for I have overcome the world." (John 16:33)
So is God's justice system flawed because evil succeeds?
 No.
 His justice has been put on hold - at least in the way that he will manage trouble makers in the future...with an iron rod!
In the meantime we get glimpses of his perfect justice, like when child abusers are found out and punished and when serial rapists are unveiled and their reputation is ruined; when terrorists and dictators are discovered and their punishment is mete out.
I trust God's justice and I trust his timing...and I know that I may not see the fullness of either until heaven, but until then I cling to the promise that he makes regarding his character:
"The Lord, the Lord, the compassionate and gracious, slow to anger, abounding in love and faithfulness, maintaining love to a thousand generations, forgiving wickedness, rebellion and sin; yet does not leave the guilty unpunished..." (Exodus 34:6-7)
Herod, with the way he died, got to sample a bit of God-sized justice...can you imagine how he is now suffering?
So now, thinking back to Ted Bundy, the only thing I can think to say is we either believe in Amazing Grace or Cheap Grace. Cheap Grace is what we might believe in if we have to be on our best behavior and earn our place in heaven through good deeds - with the final push through the door from the cross. It's the grace that limits the forgiveness of God to human standards and human understanding. It's the grace that tells young women not to have abortions and then shuns and shames the single mother. You-gotta-earn-it grace is cheap.
Then there is Amazing Grace...the grace the forgives and saves the murderers, the liars, the rapists, the tribal natives that spear the missionaries, the devil-worshiping rocker, the Nazi guard who terrorized their Jewish captives. Amazing Grace is the grace that makes a known sinner fall at the feet of Jesus and wash his feet with her tears; it's the grace that makes the worst of humanity a lover of the Savior of humanity.
Who am I to be mad that Ted Bundy got saved? Aren't I a sinner saved by grace too?
We all had it coming...but because of Jesus we who believe will not receive our just desserts; instead we will receive a enormous heaping a GRACE!