When You Ask "Why God?!," and Don't Get an Answer

I have had two miscarriages.

The first one was right before Addy. The pregnancy came as a surprise; we hadn’t been trying very hard to prevent pregnancy, but we weren’t actually “trying.” I found out very early on. We were so excited... SO excited that we ignored the rule that some follow of waiting till the doctor confirms the pregnancy. We just couldn’t contain our joy.

Less than a week after we told our parents, I began cramping. And no matter how I prayed and hoped against hope… I was miscarrying.

I was heartbroken.
But I am not sure "heartbroken" adequately describes feeling of a 1000 lb. weight crushing your innermost being, how it feels like a part of you dies and can never be recovered.

I spent a week laid up on the couch with the puffy eyes and a tissue mess around me. Then, I got off the couch and decided to focus all my efforts on getting pregnant again. A few months later, the pee stick gave me that extra pink line.

It was a hard pregnancy. I was terribly ill (as in I visited the ER when, in my 11th week, I started throwing up blood because my esophagus was raw from throwing up so much. Yeah. That bad.) But the hardest part wasn’t the morning sickness. It was where I realized that as much as I thought the meaning in that miscarriage was discovering how much I wanted to be a mom… it wasn’t. I was pregnant still grieving the loss of the baby that would never be.

I wanted to give that miscarriage meaning. I wanted to be on the other side of grief. I thought another pregnancy would get me there.

And the hard truth: Sometimes in this life, our “Why GOD?!?!” questions just don’t get answered. And sometimes, as much as we would like to be on the other side of grief, grief is a process.

Sometimes it’s in wading those heavy waters with a hole in your heart as wide as the Grand Canyon that you find that even though the hole remains, God’s grace can fill even the widest chasm.

And really, it isn’t that I actually wanted to grasp the meaning in the losses… what I really wanted was to hold those babies in my hands. And I can’t. And I wrestle with it. While as much as it might seem meaning is the only thing that can bridge the gaping hole in the aftermath of loss… truth is, only faith can.

I think it’s in those moments of loss that we encounter the gap between our understanding and God’s ways. This side of heaven, things don’t always make sense… we see through the mirror dimly, peering through the mist (1 Corinthians 13:12). Real faith demands that we freefall… let go of our understanding and jump. God is good. God has a plan... even when I don't understand it. And the hardest reality to grasp: God loves us and has our best at heart. At some point in the freefall, faith catches us. Joy and peace are restored.


We fall in love. We fall INTO Love.



Saying a prayer this morning for all who mourn... Blessed are those who mourn, for they SHALL be comforted. (Matthew 5:4).



By Grace,
Amanda Conquers
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