When Your Faith Looks Weak

Two weeks ago, I had to go to labor and delivery.

I was sitting down eating dinner when all of a sudden I felt pain creep into my lower abdomen. And then I contracted. The pain increased and I contracted again. I grabbed a glass of water, took to our recliner, and put my feet up. The pain got so strong there were tears welling up in my eyes. And then I contracted again. 3 times in less than twenty minutes. I called labor and delivery and, yes, they wanted me to come in.

As I am describing the pain to the nurse, I can feel the panic—that familiar fear. Oh, no, no, no, not again. It can’t be going wrong again. Tears of emotion joined the tears of pain.

I told my husband I needed to go in and we got the kids into the car.

Somewhere in the midst of the hustle to the car, the fear, the texts for prayer, there’s the still voice: 

Amanda, I’m here. It’s okay.

And I just knew He was and it was.

Sometimes, I worry that somewhere in the losses and trials of the past two years, my faith has become fragile. When loss happens to you, it becomes more than just a statistic, a sadness that might happen to one in every four women; it becomes your reality. You are no longer untouchable. When the losses roll in one after another, you feel vulnerable—maybe even doomed to despair.

This pregnancy has been emotionally and physically hard. It’s like I am holding my breath waiting to breathe again. The further along I get, the more it feels like breathing might be safe, but crampy pains and a few contractions and it’s like I am being brought back to that hot June afternoon, pacing the living room, hearing the doctor speak my devastation into the phone, “I am really sorry, Amanda, but there isn’t life in there. There was never even a heartbeat.”

My short stint at Labor and Delivery showed me something though. As much as the initial sight of hard circumstances might have brought on fear, as real as loss might be to me…  faith isn’t built in the absence of hard. The Amanda of 2 years ago didn’t have greater faith because she didn’t automatically imagine the worst at the first sign of difficulty. The Amanda of today doesn’t have a weaker faith because loss has touched her life.

When God said, “I’m here and it’s okay,” during my brief but very real contraction storm, I believed Him.

I knew He was with me, because I still remember some ten months ago when I faced the darkest night, when my faith might have looked the weakest. I was dagger spittin’ mad at God. I hurled the ugliest words I could find in my vocabulary, and I shook my fists to the heavens and demanded and He tell me why. And even there, God was with me. You guys, there were miracles, abundant grace, ways that God whispered to my soul, “Yes, you are walking through the storm, but I am still with you. And I see you. And I hurt with you. And I will not let you go.”

Can I be honest and tell you that I have struggled with thinking that maybe I am somehow less of a Christian because of those moments where my faith looked so weak. And because after walking through 4 miscarriages in 14 months, it just doesn’t take much for me to experience panic at the onset of crampy pains.

Here’s what I am learning and maybe it needs to be said for all of us who have ever struggled with doubt or at some point found ourselves unable to respond with absolute trust in God’s plan when we have faced unexplainable loss:

I think sometimes we act as though faith is a thing that we need to hold close, protect. We refuse to expose faith to the storms for fear it might get beaten down, and we choose to tread water instead.

But faith isn’t for treading water. Faith is for walking on the water.

Faith is for the places that don’t make sense. Faith is for the times when Christian cliché band-aides just can’t patch the brokenness inside you. Faith is for the storm. Faith is for the gaps. Faith is for when you could drown in the depths of places unexplainable.

Faith is this very real, Jesus-walking-with-you, in the mess.

Faith doesn’t need you to protect it. Faith is your protection. There’s a reason why it’s called the “shield of faith.”

I have been turning over this passage: “Fixing our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith…” Hebrews 12:2. Jesus is the author and perfecter of our faith. Not me.

Friends, I have learned that real faith doesn’t understand. Real faith doesn’t always see the outcome. Real faith is clinging to God, sometimes even wrestling with God, and refusing to let go of Him. Real faith is being curious enough to walk out into the storm to see if God really means to never let you go.

By the time I got to the hospital, checked in and hooked up to the monitors, I can’t even tell you the peace I felt.

The very minute the monitor started reading the rapid whoosh whoosh whoosh of the baby’s heartbeat, the baby began to kick and punch and roll. The baby kicked strong and close to the monitor. Each kick startled the nurse and me, even hurt our ears: whoosh whoosh KAPOW! The nurse laughed and turned the monitor’s sound way down, “I don’t think we need to hear the heartbeat anymore, clearly your little one is just fine in there.”

Those deafening sounds felt like Grace. They were the final proof of what God had whispered into my heart when the pain was still intense, when the contractions were still coming. Thing was, I believed God’s words long before I had the proof.  

Because I have walked with Him through storms before.

Friends, faith doesn’t get beaten down in the storms… faith is a thing that grows in storms.

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

9 Reasons Why Delivery-Room Gender Reveals Are Awesome

I remember the exact moment of our first surprise—I was high on endorphins after a long labour and three hours of pushing. The first words out of my mouth were, “Did we have a boy or girl?” The nurse turned to my husband. “Well, Dad, do you want to make the announcement?”

Mike had tears, a smile, and a tremble in his hands. He paused. He might even have forgotten for a split-second in the emotion of the moment which parts went to which gender. “A girl, Amanda. It’s a girl.”

I repeated back those words so many times, letting them sink in. This was our surprise, our miracle: “A girl? A girl! Really? A girl? This whole time we’ve had a girl in there? Ahh! I can’t believe it’s a girl!”

____________

I’ve always loved surprises. So, for me, when it came time to decide how we would find out the gender of our first baby, waiting until delivery just seemed like the right choice. We found out the gender of our second born because we were both really hoping for a boy. And now that we have one girl and one boy, we are doing what I actually prefer: waiting to find out.  

So, just for fun and just because sometimes I get the awkward side-ways glance or the “Oh my goodness, I could never do that. I would just have to know,” when people find out we are waiting, I have compiled a list of some really great reasons why delivery-room gender announcements are awesome.

1. You save money.

So, you know those moments when you are walking through the baby section at Target and there’s the sweet little three piece outfit that makes your momma-heart swoon? When you don’t know the gender, you imagine how cute your soon-to-arrive baby would look if it happened to be a boy or girl, and then you keep walking. Because you don’t know boy or girl. And you might not know much about babies yet, but you at least know you don’t want to stand in the return line with a newborn in tow.

2. You are very likely to get what you really need at your baby shower.

So, you know how I mentioned the cute baby outfits in the baby section and how hard they are to resist? They are! For like everyone with estrogen in their body. So, if you have a baby shower, sure, you might need a crib, baby carrier, stroller, car seat, bottles, breast pump, diaper pail, and a ridiculous amount of diapers and wipes… but you will get a ridiculous amount of outfits. And they will make you and everyone at the shower swoon. But the thing is, if you are a first time mom-to-be, let me tell you a secret. Babies poop. They drool. They spit up. Diapers will fail you. You might end up changing that precious baby 10 times in one day—his diaper AND his clothes. And at some point the only clothes you will want him in, save those special outings and picture opportunities, are the clothes that are practical and easy to get on and off. And the adorable dress with matching bloomers or the vest, button-down and bow tie… outfits like that, you won’t need 20 of them.

3. Double the presents.

So here’s the good news: your mom, grandma, auntie, sister who you are currently driving crazy because they want to shop for all the cute stuff. Guess what? They will not only come to your shower bearing practical gifts. They will also feel this overwhelming urge to go out and buy all the cute stuff as soon as your precious surprise arrives.

4. More usable items for the next baby.

If you didn’t find out the gender till delivery, you wouldn’t have been tempted to purchase the pink carseat with the butterfly accent print. Your nursery items will be neutral.  You will have newborn clothes that will work no matter if you have a boy or girl. And one day, should you be blessed with the opposite gender, your future self who is discovering how energy demanding and strong-willed a toddler can be, who only wants a decent nights’ sleep and a shower in life, who is wondering if she will ever have a routine again after adding a new baby to the family… that girl will thank you because she just won’t care as much about nursery theme and she won’t want to spend the extra money replacing the pink butterfly carseat (but she will anyways just to save her baby boy from growing up with a complex...)

5. Focus Point? Done.

Labour is hard. Really hard. Throughout the entirety of my first labour, the 19 hours of “back labour” and the 3 hours of pushing, I thought of one thing: Boy or girl? When I arrived at that awful moment when I just really thought I couldn’t do it and someone should just put me out of my misery, I still wanted to know. I had waited to know. The anticipation of the surprise still somehow outweighed those grueling moments of transition-labour despair.

6. It’s follows a natural plot line.

Okay, maybe this is a lit-nerd thing, but good books have a moment called the climax. Everything builds and builds—nine months of your body growing a human and preparing to evacuate it. Then there’s start of the climax: the labour and delivery where at some point you think you just can’t and somehow you still do. And then the final push and that first cry: and there is that baby. If you don’t know the gender, the room almost erupts into joy, the culminating experience of nine months of wondering, “It’s a boy! It’s a girl! No way! Look at that! Oh my goodness, A boy! A girl!” You have no choice but to stop and soak in the moment, let it roll around your brain, celebrate the news—and it is news—brand new—the baby and this discovery. It doesn’t matter that you are now delivering the placenta or being stitched up, this news has caught your breath and will hold it for a while. It’s a time-standing-still kind of magic.

7. It’s fun to have something to announce that people actually want to know on such a momentous occasion.

I mean, no offense, the birth stats are cool, but nobody but grandma cares if the baby is 6 lbs. 15 oz. or 8 lbs. 4 oz.

8. The older generation brings out all their old wives tales to predict the gender of your baby.

Sure, it will happen regardless, but it’s a little awkward when you are barely showing at eleven weeks and grandma swears it’s a boy because you are carrying low and in front. Really grandma? I think that might be the donut I just ate? At 32 weeks, it’s pretty clear “how you carry,” and a gender-unknown baby bump has some kind of magnetic pull on the pre-ultrasound generations. There’s just something about having the older women in your life gather around your belly, guess the gender, and tell you all about their experiences from decades past. Because no matter how technology changes, motherhood is timeless.

9. It brings your husband into the birth experience more.

As he cuts the cord, your husband will get to announce to you and everyone in the room who you have been carrying in your womb all those nine months. He will call his parents, his brother, your brother. He will walk into the waiting room where family members are anxiously waiting for the announcement. The first words out of his mouth will not be, “She’s finally here!” It will be, “It’s a girl!”

I’d love to hear from you and your experiences! Any reasons to add the list? Have you ever waited till the delivery to find out? Would you want to wait till delivery to find out?

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers


Image Credit: https://flic.kr/p/e4nLge (Please note: per license agreement, I was able to build upon this image and add my own words. They are not endorsed by photographer.)

When You Want to Be the Mom That Buys The Houses Across the Street for Her Kids

Last weekend, I had one of those tough parenting days.

My husband, my mom, and I were wallpapering our entryway/stairwell. We had an eight foot ladder on the middle landing, a plank going from the ladder to the top of the stairs—a sort of makeshift scaffold. There was wallpaper paste, rollers, scissors, a razor, and people trying to lay giant strips of wallpaper straight on the wall.

Naturally, this is exactly where my kids wanted to play.

Addy got asked to play outside, watch a movie, go in her room loads of times... maybe every three minutes. At one point she was sitting on the bottom step, and the excess wallpaper got rolled up and thrown from the top step onto her head. Twice. I could see her, feeling left out, overlooked, like she was just in the way.

She headed to her room, emerged a few minutes later bearing a Hello Kitty bag, and headed out the front door.  

I just knew I needed to follow her.

She was walking down the sidewalk, barefoot, bag stuffed full of clothes.

She was running away.

Her words: “Mom, I was just angry and wanted to see what was out there.”

“Out where?” I asked.

“You know, out there. Everywhere. I want to know what it’s like. I want to see the whole world.”

I just really really want to see the whole world, Mom. You can come with me. I just want to see it now.

Later that evening I found the note she had left for me on her desk: “I am going on a avencher for ever. I love you mom.”

It all quaked in me: the idea that my daughter would want to runaway, the feeling like a failure somehow, the glimpse into my daughter’s heart of hearts. I flipped back through my memories of her—the precious moments that seem sacred and holy and reveal the innermost being and childlike faith of my Addygirl. They are the memories I keep tucked close to my heart, the ones I ponder. They reveal her sense of wonder, her craving for adventure in the wide world, and her zeal for people and life.

Sometimes, I think God gives us these glimpses into who are kids are and who He made them to be. It’s beautiful and exciting and sometimes altogether terrifying. It’s not that I hold the plans for my kids' lives or have this prophetic revelation of their futures. But I do think God prepares our hearts as moms. He prepares us so we can prepare them.

One day, Addy is going to pack her bag for reals, hopefully with her shoes on, and leave my home. She’s going to run after dreams, dreams that might take her across town or across the globe.

This is really hard to think about.

And that’s the thing about parenting. Sure, it’s hard disciplining, teaching, being consistent, dealing with strong wills. But it’s even harder knowing that one day, and really everyday just a little more, I am preparing to release my child into the world as an adult. Sometimes God gives us these runaway moments as whispers, “Do you see her, Amanda? Do you see the desires I put in her heart? You can’t keep her. You weren’t meant to hold her forever.”

It’s these moments I realize how fleeting and precious these years are. It’s these moments I want to make time stand still. It’s these moments I fully recognize the weight of the call of motherhood. 

I am preparing my kids for the rest of their lives. This part of parenting only lasts so long. Each year their need for me changes, and the sphere of those who can influence them gets just a little wider.

As much as I might like to tuck them in close, wrap my arms around them, and maybe one day buy them the houses next door to me… I need to prepare my heart to let go just a little more each passing year. I need to walk that hard but beautiful road of parent to friend, of boo-boo kisser to heart-break consoler, of holding hands while we cross the street to hands-and-knees praying over each adventure they take without me.

I once heard that a child is a mother’s own heart walking outside her body.

And it just seems hard that the sacred call of motherhood means having to prepare your children to walk after the desires God planted inside them… especially when those desires might pull your very own heart thousands of miles from your own body. 

And yet in all the painful heart-string pulling, I know I need to walk this road leaning, trusting my Savior, pressing in everytime I want to hold tight… because, truly, what I really want more than anything is for my kids to know God, really know Him for themselves. I don’t want them to walk through this life beyond the walls of my home leaning on me, I want them to walk leaning on God

Wherever He would lead.

Is it just me, or is this a heavy topic for moms? I kind of cried a lot in the writing (and naturally I was in a crowded Panera Bread). I’d love to know how old your kids are and how you are doing with this whole kids growing up thing… whatever phase of motherhood you might be in. Share with us in the comments?

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

Just Me in My Comfy Pants (March Edition)

So… it’s been awhile.

I think pregnancy can do that to a girl.

But I miss this, I miss you, I miss writing. So, as I am feeling quite rusty, I think I shall warm up by sitting in my comfy clothes and just telling you a few random things that are going on in my life and things I have been learning.

1. I am 21 weeks pregnant. Older women tell you that each pregnancy is different, and maybe a part of you thinks they might know what they are talking about, but this other part expects it to look the same as before. Yeah, those women, they know what they are talking about. I have this vague memory from my previous second trimesters where I had gobs of energy, where my back didn’t hurt yet, where my “baby tummy” wasn’t quite so far out yet, where false contractions didn’t happen yet… maybe I remember wrong, because this time around: energy=0; back=I just bought a maternity girdle because hello sciatic issues and lower abdomen pain; waistline=I look like I am either carrying twins or am 2 months farther along; Braxton hicks= since like 16 weeks and they are strong.

2. This baby is fickle. I am still nauseous, though it is nothing like it was the first sixteen weeks, so I will gladly take it. I can’t eat anything acidic (oranges, lemonade, marinara, pizza sauce). I can't keep onions down (not in salad, not diced in my meat, not carmelized... no onions). Pretty much the entirety of Asian cuisines disgust me: Cantonese, Thai, Sushi, lumpia, rice noodles, and soy-sauced anything.  I worry I might be off coffee for life. And if you know anything about me, the Amanda prior to baby #3 lived for her morning iced latte and deep conversations spent over a hot vanilla latte. The Amanda currently housing baby #3 wants to get sick just talking about coffee… so, um, how about we change the subject?

3. I complain sometimes because this pregnancy has not been a cake-walk, but I am just so grateful. So grateful. Everything feels like a miracle. Everything is a miracle. Each kick. Each doctor visit. Each time I hear that beating heart. Each time the kids put their mouths to my belly and talk to their sibling. I will take the nausea, the back aches, the insomnia, the food adversions, and really, I promise, I take them with joy… because this. I held on for dear life to the promise of this little one. I am not letting go of my resurrection-power miracle over temporary complaints. I am overwhelmed by His goodness and grace... and I am clinging to it. You guys, I get to be a mom to this baby!

4. We are having….

A BOY OR A GIRL!!

(Do please pay close attention to that conjunction in there. It’s OR not AND.)

We decided to be surprised in the delivery room. (I am pretty sure I am going to share our reasons in a light-hearted post coming soon, so I’ll tell you more about it then.) Everything looked great at our 20 week ultrasound. Side note: I am pretty sure I noticed a cleft in the baby’s chin. I sort of squealed over this. It’s one of my favorite features on my husband. 

5. I got to go to a local writing conference last month. It was so refreshing. I got to spend time with a dear friend; talk metaphor, character, style, theme with people who get just as excited about those topics as I do; get encouragement just for writers that had gospel all through it; get some really great wisdom on non-fiction writing and writing a book proposal. You guys, I also won a writing scholarship that will pay my way to next year’s conference, membership to a group that essentially provides support for writers, and pays for an expensive writing conference where there are acquisition editors, literary agents and classes taught by renowned authors and experts in the Christian writing field! I feel like I pretty much got handed a vote of confidence from seasoned writers and the tools I would need to send a book out into the wide world. Amazing. And if you want to hear me continue gushing, on the award it says this: “who communicated a message of grace, hope and love in a creative work.” Could there possibly be anything better to have said about the work of your heart or message of your life? So humbling and so crazy exciting.

I feel like there are a ridiculous amount of things I could tell you because it’s been months, but I need to leave off for now. I sort of need to cook dinner.  But since I was able to get a nice camera with our tax return last week (I am SOOOOO excited about this! It’s been on the wish list for years.), how about I leave you with a few pictures of life around here?

Tummy talks in the kitchen

Just a dog and her Capri Sun... wait, what?

My in laws got a new puppy. This picture just makes me smile big.

I planted daffodil, tulip and hyacinth bulbs last October after my last miscarriage. Here they are in full bloom while my belly is getting full big with a little life who kicks and hiccups and rolls. Spring always comes.

Nope, not choking him. :)

Looking forward to more time spent here.

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

Proclaiming the Miracle (An Announcement)

Because, dear readers, hope is a thing worth holding onto, there is this:

11 weeks, 5 days. Due to arrive in July.

My last miscarriage marks the beginning of this pregnancy. And for the literature-lover who sees metaphors everywhere, there’s something that seems poetic about it. This little life is marked by the pain of loss, and I mean that in the best way. I think of Jesus showing His scars after His resurrection: Do you see the miracle?

“For with the Lord is lovingkindness and with Him is abundant redemption” Psalm 130:7. I stood on that verse through the hard times, and I hold it close now.

In other news, I have been wretchedly sick. I get morning sickness really bad. Not bad enough to say extreme, as in daily coming into the doctor for an IV kind of bad… but enough to earn the adverb really that I attached the word bad. All day, everyday. Calling it morning sickness seems grossly negligent, and I am tempted to think some male doctor came up with the term so he could justify his demand for a home-cooked meal every evening. Fortunately my husband is understanding and has grown accustomed to the lack of cooking (and let’s not mention the cleaning) from me.  If my sudden blog disappearance was any kind of mystery to you, I think you now understand the reason.

Here’s the thing. Can I tell you how hard it is to be excited when you’ve been living where the worst keeps happening? How hard it is to be excited when you feel miserable? It’s felt a bit like my life has been under a dark cloud. Somehow in the suffering, I just don’t seem worthy of such a miracle. I’ve grown accustomed to suffering as a part of the Christian walk. But rejoicing? I think I lost it somewhere in the sadness.

I want to live brave. Not just through the worst. But after the worst. And let me tell you friends, it takes nothing short of sheer bravery to believe that God is for you and that He’s got you in the aftermath of loss.

And really, this post is me being brave. It is me rejoicing no matter how I feel, no matter what the future might hold. I am proclaiming that I carry life. I’ve seen the steady heartbeat, five little fingers curled up against a cheek, feet kicking… all in a two inch body. It’s a miracle. My miracle.

Squeee!

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

Walking through Miscarriage: Practical Advice for Friends and Loved Ones, Spouses, and the Woman Who's Hurting

I have done this a few times now. And I've learned a few things. Today, I wanted to conclude the Still Hope series with some of the practical things I have learned and what others have done that has been helpful and has been hurtful. If you have had a miscarriage and wondered things like how to share the news or have a friend or loved one going through this and want to be helpful and supportive... this post is for you.

For You

1. Give yourself Grace. You can (and should) stop and grieve. It’s okay if the housework slacks, the dinners are take-out or seriously uninspired. It’s okay if you have to keep escaping to your room to cry. It’s okay if you let all the responsibilities you can get out of go for a season. 
2. Receive Grace. If other’s are asking you how they can help and you have a stack of dishes in your sink, it’s okay to respond with that as an answer. It’s okay to need help. It's also okay to not know how to respond to everyone's kind words, prayers, generosity... just receive it, sister.
3. It’s your story. If you just shared this amazing, well-planned and super cute post on facebook announcing your pregnancy and now you are left wondering how to share this hard news, it is entirely up to you. The Lord is the redeemer of our stories, but you are the keeper of your story. It’s okay to ask someone else to share this hard news (My husband and mom did this for me). It’s okay to hole up for a week till you can face this. It’s okay to slowly let your story out, one person at a time. It’s okay to share it and then hide out for a week without checking your messages. It’s okay to share every step in this process. It is entirely up to you.
4. You cannot help how anyone will respond. Sometimes the encouragement and the prayers will hold you up, strengthen you. Sometimes other people’s way of dealing with grief will strip you raw. Do keep this in mind when thinking about when to share and who to share with.
5. Even if you hadn’t shared the news with anyone before you miscarried, still, find someone other than your spouse who you can share this with… someone who can “mourn with those who mourn,” someone who won’t just listen once, but will ask you every couple days how you are doing, someone who will pray with you.
6. Ask for what you need. I felt like I needed out of town, to hike something, to breathe fresh air. It was hard to ask my husband, to fork out money for a hotel and food, and I had to ask twice, because the first time my husband didn’t understand how desperately I needed this. It’s okay to speak up and ask.

For The Friends and Loved Ones

1. Choose your words wisely. Sometimes we naturally want to fix problems, find some kind of silver lining. But when her heart is bleeding and raw, you just need to allow her to grieve. Those searching-for-a-positive statements deny a person the right to grieve (They are in a better place. At least you know you can get pregnant. At least it happened now instead of further along.). One day it will be time for this, just not while its fresh.
2. It is okay to not have a solid response. The most comforting words for me looked like “Amanda, I am just so sorry.” “Holding you in prayer.” “I have been there, and it hurts. Praying.” "I don't know what to say, but I want you to know my heart is hurting for you."
3. Saying nothing is better than a cliché. I’ve heard “God only gives his hardest battles to his strongest soldiers” “God won’t give you more than you can handle” “Heaven got another angel” Besides the fact that these ones I mentioned are just not Scriptural, clichés feel flat when you are feeling deeply.
4. Check in on your close friend. I have a small handful of friends whom would send me texts or emails every couple days: How are you doing today? What can I do for you? I read this scripture and thought of you. Just want you to know I am still praying for you…  I can’t even tell you how much these women have helped me this past year. How much they have looked like Jesus and Grace.
5. You don’t have to have gone through this to be able to help. Those friends I mentioned, most of them have never walked this road. And really, that hasn’t mattered. It’s been important for me to see that I am not the only one, to hear other stories, but even more helpful are those who are willing to stop and lift me up.
6. Small acts of kindness. Volunteering to take the kids to the park for an afternoon, volunteering to bring dinner (in a disposable pan that I don’t have to wash and return and remember to whom it belongs), a sweet card, hot tea and scones, flowers, just a little something that says I am thinking of you. Here’s where I am honest: maybe it’s the introvert in me, but I didn’t want any kind of help for a good week that meant having company because I just didn’t have anything in my energy reserve. So if you are wanting to be helpful like this, just be sensitive to this (and if your friend is a hardcore introvert, maybe do something that you can leave on her doorstep or can arrive in a mailbox).

For the Husband

1. You don’t have to understand why she is so sad. You don’t have to be as sad as she is. But do allow her the room to be sad, to process this in her own time and way. Miscarriage is deeply personal to a woman. She might feel like a failure, she might be angry over it, she might be deeply sad. Give her that room to stop and grieve. 
2. Offer her grace. Lots. The housework might slack, the dinners might be lame, don’t point this out. Offer to cook dinner or pick up take out.
3. Listen to her. When I miscarried over the summer, I was so angry, so angry. I just needed to do something, get out of town, hike something, wear my legs and my lungs out. Though I had to ask more than once, my husband heard this, asked for the time off and took me to the mountains. When I cried my eyes out and told him how stupid this miscarriage was, he didn’t say anything. I didn’t need him to say anything. He just offered his chest to cry on and put his arms around me.
4. Be a shield for her. Mike shared the news for me with his family and our extended relatives. He watched out for me, made sure I wasn’t overdoing it. He watched for signs of me being overwhelmed and took the kids to the park.   

Any advice to add to this list? Share with us in the comments.

This wraps up the miscarriage series. I can't even tell you how healing it has been to write, and how burdened my heart has been for you, dear sister, who might be walking this hard road. I want you to know I have been praying for you, praying for peace and comfort, and for God to wrap His arms around you, praying for redemption of this hard part in your story. {Hugs}



By Grace,
Amanda Conquers

If you missed the introduction to this series, you can find it HERE.

If you would like to continue reading, here are the rest of the posts in the series:

Season of Mourning
When You Are Trying to Make Something Out of Your Ashes
Project Still Hope
What Hope Really Looks Like
What You Need to Know When Fear is Suffocating You

What You Need to Know When Fear Is Suffocating You

I felt smothered by fear. I couldn’t catch my breath, and as tears rolled one after another and my body heaved, I had this feeling the only way out of this was a paper bag.

Maybe I was struggling to catch my breath because I’ve been holding my breath for over a year waiting for the worst to happen. I don’t understand this, this repeated miscarriage thing, and there isn’t anything I can do to keep it from happening. Sure, there are natural remedies, doctors and research, but really, I don’t have control over this.

So at that moment, when I was staring down the end of my cycle and what seemed like certain doom, to either not be pregnant when I want to be, or to be pregnant when I haven’t been able to stay pregnant…  My life felt out of control. I was hunched over in my kitchen, knuckles white gripping the counter, and fear was hard-pressing a pillow to my face. 

The other night, we were walking up to the house, just me and the kids. It was dark out. The kids thought they saw shadows and declared there to be bad guys in our yard. 

Two shaking voices in almost unison said, "Mom, I'm scared."

And then without even prompting him, Jed begins reciting the Bible in his gruff voice that still can’t tackle the “r” sound.

“The Lord is for me. I don’t have to be afraid.”

I’ve had my kids saying this verse (Psalm 118:6) since Addy was three and decided the dark was scary. I would go into her room, pray with her and we’d say this verse out loud. Sometimes I still hear her from her room, shouting it, declaring it, fighting the darkness. {It melts my momma heart.}

And on this particular evening, when Jed said it with his pure child's faith, it shined like a holy light on all the dark places in me. And I had to ask myself, do I really believe that the Lord is for me? Because I am afraid of losing, I am afraid of walking through another loss, I am afraid of the doctor’s appointments and a doom and gloom verdict on my womb.

I want to be able to control this, make it better, but who in the world can knit a life together in the dark of the womb other than God? I can’t control this. I can’t make it happen. And apparently after having 3 of 4 pregnancies happen where I thought we were preventing pregnancy, I can’t keep it from happening either. I have only to trust or to be crushed by fear.

Last Sunday in church, the pastor made mention of Christ’s temptation in the wilderness (Matthew 4:1-11). The first two temptations Jesus faced aren’t just about food and being carried by angels… they challenge the very identity of Christ. If you are the Son of God. IF.

Isn’t that how I am being tempted? If you are dearly loved of the Lord, his adopted daughter and co-heir with Christ, why isn’t He fulfilling His promise? Why do you keep losing?

And the lie that is at the very core of it: surely the Lord isn’t for you; doesn’t really love you.

Every time Jesus is tempted He responds with the Word of God. He picks up the same sword Paul exhorts us to use in Ephesians 6:17. It is written.

All of pieces of the armour of God help us to stand firm, to be steadfast unshakable. The sword, which is His Word is the only thing by which we can defeat the enemy, silence fear.

And can I just say this? We need to silence fear.

Because fear will rob you of your life. It will silence you, it will abort the woman you were made to be, it will destroy your relationships. Fear will trick you into trading living life to the full for the illusion of safety. 

We need to stand and declare to the darkness exactly who God says we are. That He is for us. And He is for that little life. I do not fully understand why miscarriage happens, but I don't have to. Trust and understanding do not go hand in hand. I can trust anyways.

I wanted to make a short list of "It Is Written's" that we could use to call out to the darkness, pierce the fear. Because, sister, God is for us. And we don't have to be afraid. {At the end of this list, I have a link to a simple google document in case you want all these verses in one place where you can see them. I know I do.}

“For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you” Isaiah 41:13.

“Be strong and courageous. Do not be afraid or terrified because of them, for the Lord your God goes with you; He will never leave you nor forsake you” Deuteronomy 31:6.

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid” John 14:27.

“For you have not received the spirit of bondage again to fear; but you have received the Spirit of adoption, whereby we cry, Abba, Father” Romans 8:15.

“There is no fear in love. But perfect love drives out fear, because fear has to do with punishment. The one who fears is not made perfect in love” 1 John 4:18.

“The LORD your God is in your midst, a mighty one who will save; He will rejoice over you with gladness; He will quiet you by his love; He will exult over you with loud singing” Zephaniah 3:17.

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the LORD, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope” Jeremiah 29:11.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me” Psalm 23:4.

“And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose” Romans 8:28.

 “The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is upon me, for the Lord has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to comfort the brokenhearted and to proclaim that captives will be released and prisoners will be freed. He has sent me to tell those who mourn that the time of the Lord’s favor has come, and with it, the day of God’s anger against their enemies. To all who mourn in Israel, he will give a crown of beauty for ashes, a joyous blessing instead of mourning, festive praise instead of despair. In their righteousness, they will be like great oaks that the Lord has planted for his own glory.” Isaiah 61:1-3.            

       

“For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. How precious to me are your thoughts, God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand—when I awake, I am still with you” Psalm 139:13-18.

“Do not be afraid, for I have ransomed you. I have called you by name; you are mine. When you go through deep waters, I will be with you. When you go through rivers of difficulty, you will not drown. When you walk through the fire of oppression, you will not be burned up; the flames will not consume you” Isaiah 43:1b-2.

“But as for me, I trust in You, O Lord, I say, ‘You are my God.’ My times are in your hands” Psalm 31:14.

“The Lord is near to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit. Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivers him out of them all” Psalm 34:18-19.

“Therefore we do not lose heart, but though our outer man is decaying, yet our inner man is being renewed day by day. Momentary, light affliction is producing for us an eternal weight of glory far beyond all comparison, while we look not at the things which are seen, but at the things which are not seen; for the things which are seen are temporal, but the things which are not seen are eternal” 2 Corinthians 4:16-18.

I made us a simple document to print out, if you want all these verses in one spot. I am printing this out and taping this to my bathroom mirror. I will be saying them daily, because I don't just need them on my mirror, I need them written on my heart. Just click ---> HERE<---for the document.

Do you have any verses to add to this list? I’d love it if you’d share them with us.

By Grace,

Amanda Conquers

If you missed the introduction to this series, you can find it HERE.

If you would like to continue reading, here are the rest of the posts in the series:

Season of Mourning
When You Are Trying to Make Something Out of Your Ashes
Project Still Hope
What Hope Really Looks Like

Practical Advice for the Grieving Woman and Those Who Love Her