It was a beautiful, late fall Tuesday morning. Sunny, crisp, colorful. My wife was getting her first pre-natal massage, so I texted her “call me when you get a chance.” I needed to talk to her about our health insurance.
A few minutes later I got the call no husband ever wants to receive from his pregnant wife: “There’s something wrong. I’m bleeding. A lot.” She could barely get the words out without breaking down. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she said through tears. I didn’t know what to say.
Was this it? Our little girl slowly going away? I was in complete shock.
Your mind goes so many places in these moments. I thought of dear friends who had recently walked this road of a miscarriage. I thought of dear friends who have struggled with infertility on top of multiple miscarriages. The strength of these friends through such difficulty gave me strength, knowing if they could trust God in the worst of it, so could I.
I spent another 3 hours at work after the phone call before my wife was able to be seen at her medical clinic. They were 3 of the most unproductive hours of my life. In shock your mind either shuts down or runs wild, somehow mine was doing both.
The first ultrasound was inconclusive. The baby was moving, had a strong heartbeat. Major relief. But sometimes the bleeding is a sign of the baby being unable to receive what it needs from that point forward—a slow death, basically.
Thankfully the bleeding subsided. 2 days later my wife received a more in-depth ultrasound. A day after that she received the phone call with the results. We were optimistic and terrified at the same time. Turns out the baby was fine, my wife was fine, the bleeding wasn’t a huge concern of theirs.
What a whirlwind. From normal to panic to grief to optimism to normal, all within 72 hours. Of course, during delivery it’s normal to go through those emotions in a span of 7.2 minutes instead of 72 hours, so maybe this was just a warm-up.
Life has a way of creating moments for us to realize how small we are. After the phone call of desperation and panic from my wife I’ve never felt so helpless, so small. There was absolutely nothing I could do to help the baby. It was completely out of my hands.
I’ve been challenging myself to find peace and contentment outside of my circumstances and outcomes. It’s so difficult, because my typical attitude in a given moment is a response to what is happening.
When my wife calls in a panic, worrying she’s losing our baby, I respond with panic, worry, and desperation. And yes, I know that’s a normal response, but what about when your kid says he hates you? Or when a friend lets you down? Or when the bills are higher than your income?
If God is truly good then he must always be good, or he can’t be truly good. Even when we thought she was gone, He was still good.