Miscarriage

Womb to Tomb

00-virgin-with-the-dead-christ-rc3b6ttgen-pietc3a0-rhineland-ger-ca-1300-25-1Miscarriage is a cruel betrayal of the body.

It’s a double-crossing rat.

It turns safe houses into torture chambers, mothers into hearses, wombs into tombs.

There is no earthly swindle so low as when that which is designed to keep and shield and warm and nurture turns on the most vulnerable of our loves.

There is no hour so long as when a mother watches her own flesh fail her own child.

There is no wail so loud.

No groan so deep.

No despair so close.

As that of a childless mother.

Except for one.

There is the wail from the cross. There is the groan and despair of our LORD as He took our wretched failings and miscarriages upon Himself and endured the ultimate horror, separation from the Father, so that we might never have to.

You see, He died to save us from the worst. He wailed and groaned and despaired and died that we might never be alone in our grief, that we might never have to live apart from Him, that we might have hope even in the face of death.

And He freely offers up his own crucified, risen flesh for us today in the bread and in the wine that we might be kept and shielded and warmed and nurtured in Him unto eternal life.

Go, mother. Go to the altar in your grief and be nurtured by Him who understands.

“My song is love unknown,
My Savior’s love to me,
Love to the loveless shown
That they might lovely be.
Oh, who am I
That for my sake
My Lord should take Frail flesh and die?” (LSB 430: 1)

 

Excuse Me

It’s gross.

It might even be a bit inappropriate.

But I’m still going to say it.

Weeping and gnashing your teeth and throwing your hands in the air and asking unanswerable questions is a bit like belching. It releases some of the pressure that has built up in the digestion of grief.

So, on behalf of all the barren women grieving around you, I would like to say, “Excuse me.”

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The doctor’s in…

IMG_1879 copyWe were blessed to have an OB-Gyn speak with us at The Great Getaway last summer. Here is a collection of some of the wise tidbits he shared with us:

On infertility…

“Fertility is one of those areas in life where God has us where He wants us. We have to lay it down. We have to give it to God. Who ultimately is in control? It’s not me [the doctor]; it’s not you and your husband; God is the one in control.”

“Infertility is a cross. It’s the cross God has given us. We are to bear our crosses.”

“We can’t even claim to understand why this is happening. This is a wound only God can heal.”

“No matter what happens, your Father loves you. Your Father has your best in mind.”

“Our culture says, ‘I have a right to have my 2.2 children when I want them. Children are things.’ We do not have a right to have children…Children are a precious gift from God.”

“If we had something that worked 100% of the time, then we would lose the awe and wonder of creation.”

On IVF…

“Infertility is not a disease. It is a symptom of a problem. IVF circumvents that problem. Let’s figure out the problem rather than circumvent the problem.”

“Who in the world do we think we are in saying that someone is a Grade D embryo?”

“For every baby that is born through IVF, between 20 to 30 are lost.”

The cost? “$15,000-$18,000 per cycle”

On why life begins at conception…

“Genetically, that embryo is not the mom; that embryo is not the dad. That’s a new person.”

On whether or not the pill ever acts as an abortifacient…

“If it happens once, isn’t that too many?”

Advent Admonition

IMG_1445My barren sisters:

Tonight is the night you watch other people’s children participate in Christmas pageants. It’s time for you to build relationships with those children. You said “amen” at their baptisms, so they are yours to support and guard and protect in the Faith. Start talking to them. Teach their Sunday school class. Lead them in music. Have them over to your house for dinner. Show them videos of your pet bunny. Go to their ballgames and concerts. Share whatever specific gifts you have been given, for, in sharing yourself with them, you will begin to love them and they most likely will begin to love you. That’s how you can get through tonight’s Christmas pageant. Love the children that are there even as your heart pines for the ones that aren’t.

Tonight is the night you sing of another woman’s pregnancy and another woman’s infant. Sing out loud and strong with confidence, for these songs are your own. The Child born of Mary is your child, the very One for whom you yearn. You may never have been pregnant – or the children of your pregnancies may be no more in your womb and no more in your arms – but Jesus is born for you. He is your Child, come to save you from your sin that you and your children might live forever in Him. His is the birth by which you will be “saved through childbearing” (1 Timothy 2:15).

Tonight is the night you go home to a childless house, and here, my sisters – in the silent, holy night – is your cross. Here is where the birth of Jesus matters most, in the horrible war against principalities and powers. Here is where you weep and gnash your teeth for the death that curses this blasted world. Here is where you repent and turn to Him who died for sinners.

So, cry out to the Child Jesus who died but lives again and remember in faith: in Him, you will live again, too.

17 And when I saw him, I fell at his feet as dead. And he laid his right hand upon me, saying unto me, Fear not; I am the first and the last:
18 I am he that liveth, and was dead; and, behold, I am alive for evermore, Amen; and have the keys of hell and of death (Revelation 1).

Christmas is merry in Jesus.

Love,

Katie

Something That Is Better

Bo Giertz writes that when it comes to prayer, Jesus said “we should be persistent and not give up. We should compare ourselves with the man who, in the middle of the night needed to borrow some bread, and knocked on his neighbor’s door. God isn’t like the neighbor. He doesn’t mind being inconvenienced, but it’s a part of His fatherly way of rearing and teaching His children that He allows us to wait. Maybe He does it just so we learn to pray by being forced to think about what we pray for and being compelled to repeat what we have said in an effort to examine the contents. We have to be sure that what we pray for really comes from the heart. Then, we have God’s promise that He opens the door for us and that He hears us. We might not get just what we prayed for, but it will always be a good gift and just what we need most. Jesus doesn’t say that God gives us what we hoped for, but that He gives the Holy Spirit to those who pray to Him. He gives us the Holy Spirit when we pray persistently and faithfully and come to God with all our needs. The Spirit influences us and transforms us. Sometimes we stop praying about something because we understand that it wasn’t God’s will. Sometimes we discover that we’ve already received something that is better. Sometimes, as we pray, we see a completely different way of looking at what worried us. Or maybe God helps us in some other way–but He always helps us.” (To Live with Christ, 347-8)

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A Hot Mess

800px-Airman_executing_a_push-up_as_part_of_the_United_States_Air_Force_Fitness_Test copyI broke in my workout a couple days ago.

I was holding a high plank, staring at the black, cork floor as my sweat made a shiny puddle under my nose. My arms were shaking.

“C’mon, Katie,” the instructor knelt in front of me. “You’ve got this.”

I had just fatigued my shoulders doing renegade rows and double kettle bell push presses, and now, after completing a pushup, I was supposed to walk my hands backwards until I stood bent over my own feet, then walk my hands back out into a high plank and do another pushup. Over and over again. This was only the fifth one in the first set, and I was already about to fall flat on my face. There was no way I could do three sets.

“You can do this.”

I felt a familiar panic overcome me, a desperation of spirit that comes with the Law, with the knowledge of the limits of my own, fallen, diseased flesh. I had felt it before. I had felt it as my doctor filled out a request for diagnostic mammograms four years ago; as my menses started a week late when I was sure I was pregnant; as I rocked back and forth on the floor during a pain episode related to endometriosis; as I put on the hospital gown before my surgery; as I leaned dizzily against the gym wall while I was on Lupron.

My flesh always fails.

The puddle under my nose went blurry as hot tears mixed with my sweat. I gave in to my panic and leaned back on my heels, too embarrassed to look the instructor in the eye. My face was already red and shiny from my workout, so it took a second for her to see the tears.

She leaned back on her own heels. “What’s going on?”

“I just feel so weak.”

I don’t remember what she said in response. I know she was encouraging, and I am sure whatever she said was true. It’s just that there was so much I wasn’t telling her. The pain of endometriosis. The fear of it coming back. Every day of my childless life being a reminder of my failing flesh.

My tears weren’t really about a few measly pushups. My tears were about the grief of this creation groaning in response to sin. My sin. And it overwhelms me sometimes.

In those moments, there is only one thing to do: turn in faith to Him who has mercy on sinners.

“Christ, save me. Christ, forgive me. Christ, come quickly.”

Then, wait in hope for the LORD to deliver me from my failing flesh on the Last Day.

And, while I’m waiting, I might as well try to do another pushup.

A Thanksgiving without…

MP900309434To all of my dear sisters in Christ who are facing this Thanksgiving without the child they were expecting earlier in the year:

You don’t have to pretend to be happy today.

You don’t have to disguise the pain.

You don’t have to meet your family’s expectations.

You don’t have to have a ready answer.

You don’t have to hold your cousin’s new baby.

You don’t even have to attend the annual festivities.

Or, you can.

Just remember this: Christ makes the dead alive. Christ makes all things new. Christ forgives your sins. Christ says, “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28).

Christ bears your grief and pain this Thanksgiving and the day after that and the day after that. You can rest in Him.

From Hannah to Elizabeth

Have you ever noticed the parallels between Hannah and Elizabeth in the Bible?

Hannah was barren, but the LORD remembered her. She conceived and bore a son who was set apart to be a prophet. Her miracle-son, Samuel, would anoint David, the king and savior of Old Testament Israel.

Elizabeth was barren, but the LORD remembered her. She also conceived and bore a son who was set apart to be a prophet. Her miracle-son, John, would baptize Jesus, the new David – the King and Savior of the world.

It comforts me to see God working through death to bring forth life. Not even the worldly curse of barrenness could keep our omnipotent God from keeping His promise to make straight the path of righteousness – the path which points straight to Jesus and His saving work for us on the cross. I am baptized into that same Jesus, and nothing – not even the death in my own, barren womb – can stop Him from keeping His promise to raise me on the Last Day.

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You Are Not Alone

candleSome of you are miscarrying, right now.

Some of you are grieving the anniversary of the death of a precious child in your life.

Some of you are struggling with undiagnosed physical pain that is baffling your doctors.

Some of you are coping with your husband’s recent death.

Some of you are depressed and afraid of what tomorrow might (or might not) bring.

So many of you are suffering, right now, and have asked for our prayers. Well, you’ve got them. Pastor Schuermann wrote this prayer for all of us to pray together today.

Remember your mercy, O Lord, and your steadfast love,
for they have been from of old.
Remember not the sins of my youth or my transgressions;
according to your steadfast love remember me,
for the sake of your goodness, O Lord!
– Psalm 25:6-7

Let us pray…

O God, from before the foundation of the world You knew me, loved me, and showed me mercy. As I struggle, Lord, give me strength. Remind me daily of Your everlasting love for me. Remind me that I am Your child, adopted into Your heavenly family by grace, for the sake of Jesus. Do not let this cross which You have laid on me overwhelm me. Because You know all things, I will trust You. Lord, have mercy. Amen.