Pregnancy After Miscarriage
by Rebecca Prewett
First there was joyous disbelief: could it be that the Lord had blessed us with another child in the womb? Although it may sound silly to some, I had been plagued by the fear that my miscarriage might mean the end of my fertility, a sign that my childbearing days were over. Obviously this was not the case. My husband and I rejoiced in God's generosity towards us.
But all too soon, my joy was replaced by caution and anxiety. A friend, who has suffered multiple miscarriages, had warned me that I would try to withdraw emotionally from another pregnancy in an effort to shield myself from pain should I lose that baby also. She said a miscarriage would bring sorrow no matter what, and that I should rejoice in each day of the pregnancy. I tried to do that. Some days were better than others.
The most difficult part of the first fourteen weeks or so of the pregnancy was that I kept expecting something to go wrong. Every twinge, every "strange" symptom, was a cause for alarm. Could this be the beginning of the end? Each visit to the bathroom brought anxiety as I expected to see blood.
But God once again proved Himself faithful and merciful. He somehow brought me through those difficult weeks. He brought great comfort. He led me gently and patiently, dealing tenderly with my frailties.
Now I am in my last trimester, counting down the weeks until we are blessed with another babe in arms. I can feel our precious little one cavorting in the womb, kicking and somersaulting, adding a certain element of suspense by refusing to decide whether he/she wishes to remain head up or head down. And yet all of this seems strangely unreal. An online friend wrote about her pregnancy after miscarriage and how, even during labor, she found it difficult to believe that she would actually end up with a real baby.
Sometimes I wonder if my faith has been shattered in some way.
At other times, I realize that faith cannot shield us from all of the consequences of living in a fallen world. I cling to the sovereignty of God, yet I know that--in His sovereignty--women miscarry and babies die. I am not immune to suffering. I cannot use "faith" in an attempt to manipulate God into doing my bidding. I cannot demand of Him that He grant me a healthy baby.
And yet, I know that God will be with me. When it seemed my miscarriage was inevitable, I wondered if I could endure it. I imagined myself screaming in fear, horror, pain, and intense grief. In my weakness, I forgot that God never leaves nor forsakes us. He was there when I lost my baby. He held me together. He bore me in His loving arms. He will be there when I go through labor and birth. No matter what happens, He will be there. He will bear me in His loving arms.
Truly, as His Word promises, He leads gently those that are with young. He has patiently proven that to me time after time. In fact, I am in awe of His patient love as He persists in demonstrating His faithfulness and compassion to me over and over, despite my slowness at learning to rely on Him completely.
"Be anxious for nothing," His Word says. Yet I am so weak, so prone to disobey, so prone to worry.
It amazes me that God does not withdraw from me. He doesn't react the same way I do when my children are slow to obey. ("What? I told you thus and so. You should have obeyed me the first time I said it. I shouldn't have to repeat myself.") Yet God repeats Himself again and again. He has now led me gently during seven pregnancies, five births, and one miscarriage. His response to my fear and anxiety has been to demonstrate yet again that He will never leave me nor forsake me.
What an awesome God! To think that the Creator of the universe would desire fellowship with such a pitiful creature as I. And to think that He would be so loving and gracious and tender...and that He would love this babe in my womb even more than I do...
Epilogue...
On May 25, 1997 God blessed us with Jesse Covington Prewett. Our precious new baby was born about a year after my miscarriage. God used the birth of Jesse--which took place in the same room in which our unborn baby had died--to bring healing, joy, and comfort to our hearts.
copyright 1997 by Rebecca Prewett
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