Faith in the Unplanned Seasons…Our Broken World
My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish? ~Psalm 22:1
I am a mother of three. We are a family of five. I know it doesn’t look like it in our family pictures, but out of the love that Derek and I share, three babies were made. Three kiddos were loved, wanted and rejoiced over from the moment we saw two pink lines on three different pregnancy tests.
Two of those sweet babies, one older than AE and one younger, went straight from my womb to the loving arms of their Creator. I received glimpses via ultrasound images, but I don’t even have a picture of their faces to remember when I think of them.
When the doctor delivered the grim prognosis about my first child, at the appointment in which we were expecting to hear a heartbeat, I still hoped. She thought it was a missed miscarriage, but gave us an ultrasound order and told us they would confirm.
As I curled into the crook of Derek’s arm, in a room filled with other women, round with new life, I thought, “This is just too cruel. The doctor has to be wrong.” I cried and I pleaded with God. “Let my baby be alive. I know you can intervene. Please, save my baby!”
We waited in that lobby for over an hour. Through tear-filled eyes I watched happy mommy after happy mommy file through the door, each holding ultrasound pictures in their hands. Each so overcome with joy, they didn’t even seem to notice the sobbing woman in the waiting room.
By the time we were finally ushered into a room, I could feel a numbness settling in. Not a numbness toward my child; unrelenting sobs of pain were validation of the still-strong connection to my baby.
No, the icy, “Don’t touch me; I need space from you,” detachment I felt was for God. I know he never pulls away, but I did. He reached for my hand, and I yanked it away. He whispered in my ear and I screamed “La La La! I can’t hear you!!!” I had nothing to say to Him.
I don’t remember much about the next few hours. I know many people, including Derek, were praying for me. But I wasn’t praying. I was curled in a fetal position, sobbing.
Hours later my mom arrived. With arms embracing me, she asked if I was talking to God.
“I don’t know what to say, mom. I don’t understand. I know he could have saved my baby. I don’t feel like I can trust him right now. I’m so angry.”
She drew in a deep breath, “He’s big enough to hear that, honey. Talk to him. Tell him exactly what you’re feeling. Lay it at his feet.”
At 2am, I went down to the living room. The darkness of the room mirrored that of my mood. Before I knew it, I could no longer contain my anger. It violently started spilling from my lips.
“Where are you God? How could you let this happen? You know how much we wanted, loved and planned for this baby! We are ready to be parents!”
Once I started, the words just kept coming. “I know, I know. ‘You didn’t cause this, but you can redeem it.’ Yeah, yeah, yeah. I don’t want you to redeem it. I want my baby back!”
I used to think you could only really wail, with gut wrenching sobs, for a short amount of time before you were worn out. But that night, they went on for hours until I collapsed into sleep.
When I awoke a short time later, I had a very real sense of the Almighty’s presence in the room. “You’re still here?” I asked.
And then something powerful occurred to me. I had always believed it was a sin, even blasphemous, to doubt God, to be angry with him. But, maybe it is more irreverent to deem him too small to love me in spite those feelings. Maybe it makes a mockery of the cross when I assume I can’t lay even these feelings at its base.
I want an intimate, no-holds-barred relationship with the author of my soul. I want to let him into even the darkest corners of my mind. For when I do, his presence eases my pain.
I don’t have a pretty little bow to put on this package. He hasn’t provided an explanation for his lack of intervention with my first baby or my third one, just six weeks ago. This isn’t one of those, “And I see exactly why now” stories.
Instead, this is the story of a redeeming, ever-pursuing God. This is the story of my realization that intimacy with him requires I lay it all on the table. This is the story of my choice to believe in his goodness, his love even in the presence of doubt. This is the story of a faith fought for in the unplanned seasons of this broken world.
P.S. This post is part of a series on trusting, loving and praising God in life’s unplanned seasons. You can find the other posts in this series here.
When was the last time you were angry with God? Have you owned it and taken it to him? I’d love to hear what’s on your heart.
From someone who has sat in that same waiting room at the same time in her pregnancy and * begged* God to spare her baby and then had raging anger at him for not complying all I can say is – I’m sorry. I’m sorry this happened to you. I’m sorry for the sorrow you carry in your heart. I applaud your nerve to rally at him, my giving him dirty looks and ignoring him for months was non cathartic to say the least.
It seems we are at the same place in this journey. I firmly believe he uses us to help one another so it’s no coincidence I found this blog at this time. I look forward to reading of your progress.
Oh, Kristen. I ache to hear that you know the pain of this story all too well. And, I will be thinking of you and lifting you up daily in prayer. May we both be blessed with healthy babies in the future. Thank you so much for commenting. I know it’s hard!
I am so sorry. In these times when our faith is challenged…I commend you for your courage, your vulnerability, and your strength in sharing your story.
A wonderful friend of mine, when I felt so lost with my relationship with God said, “God doesn’t promise a life without suffering, just that He will be with you all the way.” I know that might not provide you any comfort, but I hope it might ease some of your feelings of abandonment.
I’m sending healing thoughts, love and tenderness your way. May you find peace in these moments.
To the people I know as Derek & Jennifer, I’m so sorry. To the people I know as Derek & Jennifer, brother and sister in Christ, I thank you for exposing your pain and for teaching by your own struggles with faith.
I didn’t know that the plea “my god why have you forsaken me” was in the old testament psalm. I only knew about Christ’s anguish by the same words. Now I see that you utter the same feeling, and you choose to learn and to teach by way of this letter. The circle will not be broken.
To my dear friend-
You have turned these painful experiences into a beautiful expression of love, faith and devotion. My heart broke to see you and your family suffer through these times. But I wouldn’t change being on this journey of life and friendship with you for anything.
While I have struggled and continue to struggle with my own faith, learning about your journey gives me strength to continue on the path.
I love your babies in heaven as much as I love AE, you, Derek, and the furry kids. 😉
Dear Jen, my Cousin, my Friend…
I’m filled with guilt for having to hear of your loss by stumbling onto this blog via Facebook. I apologize for being so disconnected and absorbed with my own life that I don’t pick up the phone more often to hear your sweet voice. I’m so very sorry that you’ve had to go through this again…it just doesn’t make any sense at all. I am so proud to be related to you because you do so much with this life that God has blessed you with. You use your amazing talents and gifts to reach people. Your words are like art forms, making people stop for a moment in awe, and strive for a higher purpose. I don’t know how you find time to do all that you do; you’re truly an inspiration! I love you and if I had voice I’d call right now. I’m battling a beast of a sore throat. Talk soon & love you always – Kristin
Jennifer you are already on my prayer list. How your heart must ache for those lost babies and how scary it must have been to actually voice your anger to the Lord. I will continue to pray for you. Thank you for sharing.
Jennifer. This is so, so powerful. So real.
I think it is in the midst of devastating loss that everything we thought we believed about God comes up to the surface. Sometimes it’s ugly, but I love what you said – that it makes a mockery of the Cross if we think He can’t take it.
My heart is with you, mama. There aren’t enough words to say how sorry I am for your losses.
Sorry about your loss. I know what your going through! You can write me if you need someone to talk to. I lost one before Ethan and they had to put me on progesterone with him. I was so ready for him to be in my arms. It was the longest scariest 9 months ofy life.