God is Faithful

My husband and I were so thrilled to find out that we were expecting a baby. We called immediate family and our closest friends and asked them to keep the secret with us and pray for a healthy baby and pregnancy.

At our first sonogram, I expected to see a little tiny dot in the middle of that black circle and was so disappointed to see absolutely nothing. The technician didn't say anything definitive, but I knew something wasn't right. Just moments before she was gushing with us about how this baby would be the first grandbaby for both of our parents.

The doctor told us that the sonogram was inconclusive and that we were either not as far along as we assumed, or this pregnancy will end in a miscarriage. It was too early to tell.

I left that day feeling so devastated. I just wanted a little bit of certainty that everything would be alright. But I guess one of the hardest things about being pregnant is the worry and the wait.

If you're reading this and you're a mother, expecting, or have experienced a failed pregnancy; I'm sure you can sympathize with my panic when two weeks later I discovered that I was bleeding.

We went to the doctor the next day. I can't imagine anything worse than sitting in the waiting room and watching couple after couple walk out with their sonograms in hand and healthy babies in their tummys. I'm not saying that these couples were flaunting their successful pregnancies in our faces, I'm just saying that these waiting rooms need to have separate rooms for couples who don't want to sob uncontrollably in front of the happy parents-to-be.

Also, you never notice how stupid it is to have seats that face other seats until you realize that your emotional rollercoaster is essentially on display for the rest of the waiting room to see.

After waiting what seemed like 3 hours to see the doctor, we were finally called back. The doctor confirmed that we would lose our baby. He said the miscarriage should occur  sometime this week or next.

Can you imagine the love that you feel for someone who you can hold? Even though I had just learned of the tiny life inside of me weeks before, every time I touched my belly, I was holding my baby. Every time I saw another baby, I imagined my own staring lovingly up at me. Every time I laughed with my husband, I imagined the incredible father he would be to our child.

If you know someone currently going through a miscarriage, please don't feel like you have to give answers. You don't. They don't want you to. Just hold them, love them and wait. There are no answers. My husband and I are blessed with friends and family who have done just that.

Now I battle the insensitive questions about when my husband and I will start a family. I battle the urge to cry when I see onesies and expectant mothers. And I remember that the God that I serve is the same God in the valley as He is on the mountaintop.

The day after our miscarriage was confirmed, I found this blog post. The Lord is so faithful.

My mother sent me this scripture, and it is my lifeline right now.

"I have loved you with an everlasting love: therefore I have continued my faithfulness to you." Jeremiah 31:3

I still pray for a baby. And if you're reading this, I ask that you too will lift my family up and ask the Lord to bless us with a healthy baby and an uneventful pregnancy. 


  1. praying for you and 'holding' you from afar, dear momma.

  2. Yes, I know that pain. Praying for you.


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