Encouragement for a Longing Mother

I love being a mother. My two kids make me laugh with all the hilarious things they say, make me proud with the new things they learn, and make my heart full with all the love they bring. But on Mother's Day this year, I couldn't help but think about the baby who is missing...the one I lost during my very first pregnancy. I honestly hadn't thought about it in quite some time, but as I reflected on motherhood my thoughts wandered back to the baby I never held.

I grieved that baby then, and I still want that baby now. I still sometimes wonder what they would have been like, what our family would have been like.

I see our family table, surrounded by all the siblings, cousins, and grandparents. The table is full, but I still recognize there is a chair missing--the one that would've held the baby that is now sitting at Jesus' table.

Statistically around 1in 8 women reading this post will relate with their own similar experience. So many of us have felt the heartache, and long to hold the little hand of our baby that we will never meet!

It's been around seven years since my miscarriage happened. Occasionally, I pull out the letter I wrote to him or her way back then, because it summarized so well my feelings:

Dear Baby,

I want you to know that even though I only knew about you in a vague sense for a mere week or two-- I loved you.

I loved you for being mine and your dad's. I loved you for being the tiny seed you were. And I am so sad and sorry I couldn't keep you growing inside me. I am sad for the memories we will miss out on. I am sad for the things I won't get to teach you. I am sad that my body rejected you, because my heart instantly welcomed you in.

And even though the pregnancy was so short-lived, I sensed your life. I felt that you were a part of me. And now that you are gone there is an unmistakable emptiness.

But I know that you are in the sweet arms of Jesus. That He who initiated your life is caring for you now. And He is doing it perfectly. Someday I will meet you and see if you have curly blonde hair like me, or blue green eyes like your dad. And I'll love you and hold you. But until that day, I release you to the one who created us all.

--with love, your mom.

As I reflect on that baby, and wonder all the "what ifs," I grieve the loss all over again. I would have loved to have another child. I always dreamed of a big family. But the reality of pregnancy and birth has been much harder for me than I realized it would, to the point that it really might not be safe for me to attempt doing it again. (if you want to hear a crazy birth story sometime, I've got one for you.)

But even though I don't understand why God's plan for my motherhood has to be different than mine, I have learned two very important truths of old through it:

God loves me in hard places. I wasn't alone in my grief then, or in my processing now. Though I don't know why God allowed me to walk through that valley, he has been with me, tenderly loving me through it.

He gave me peace when it didn't make any sense for me to have peace, simply because I asked him to. He carried me through the pruning until it was time to see some of the blessing he wanted to bring from the trial.

Just like planting seeds in my garden, that take a long time to sprout, develop, and bear fruit...sometimes God's work in my life is happening down deep when I can't see it. But he is tenderly watering and tending to it out of love for me. The fruit he is growing is eternal and valuable, far outweighing the hardships (see 2 Corinthians 4:16-18), proving that He wants lasting goodness for me and for you.

This idea of God's love in hard places was the basis for the classic Sunday School song, "Jesus Loves Me," originally written as part of a novel written by sisters Anna and Susan Warner in the mid 1800s. These two sisters knew grief...they had lost both parents, their home and a lot of earthly wealth. In co-authored novel, they first penned the lyrics:

  “Jesus loves me – this I know,

For the Bible tells me so:

Little ones to him belong,–

They are weak, but he is strong.”

  “Jesus loves me,– he who died

Heaven’s gate to open wide;

He will wash away my sin,

Let his little child come in.”

  “Jesus loves me – loves me still,

Though I’m very weak and ill;

From his shining throne on high

Comes to watch me where I lie.”

  “Jesus loves me,– he will stay

Close beside me all the way.

Then his little child will take

Up to heav’n for his dear sake.”

They knew that Jesus loved them through the hard times because they had spent time getting to know Jesus through reading the Bible. That truth gave them a firm foundation to stand on during the storms of life, and has impacted millions around the world since. (If you need some references to read about Jesus' love for yourself, check out John 3:16-17, Romans 5:8, 1 John 4: 10, 19, Ephesians 5:25).

As strange as it sounds, my miscarriage gave me deeper insight into the love that Jesus has for me, because of how he walked with me during that grief, and has helped me to share that truth with others walking in the valley of the shadow of a baby's death. The Bible has given me encouragement to see the great love that God sings over me in the middle of the hard.

Secondly, God can use the weak and small to do big things

Last year, as I was wrestling with the desire for more kids not meeting up with the reality of my body's capabilities, we took a quick trip to my cousin's graduation. While we were there, I was chatting with my grandmother about it.

We were standing on a hill, overlooking all my cousins and relatives. My grandma shared that even though she only had two sons, she also had wanted more kids. She had several miscarriages as well, and had the least amount of kids of any of her sisters. But then each of her sons grew up and had four kids, giving her 8 grandkids, and now 8 great grandkids, with probably a lot more in the future.

After a minute of silence she said, "Ashley, look what God can do with two."

And it brought tears to my eyes. God is not limited by numbers. He can do so much more than I might realize right now. Just like he multiplied the fish and loaves to feed five thousand people in Matthew 14, he can multiply the impact of what He gives me. He can still give me a big family, a strong legacy to leave. I can rest in the fact that what he gives me is enough... even if it is different than what I originally planned for my life.

Paul summarizes it so well in Ephesians 3:14-20, saying:

For this reason I kneel before the Father, from whom every family in heaven and on earth derives its name. I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being, so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen. (NIV)

So, if you are today a mother who is longing for a child you lost, or a child you can't have, cling to these two old truths: God loves you in hard places, and He can do big things with small things. It will give you so much peace and freedom for your life today.

For more encouragement, check out one of my favorite songs by Leanna Crawford. Her lyrics speak so well of the peace God offers in the valley: