Let Your steadfast love, O Lord, be upon us, even as we hope in You.
A few Thursdays ago…
Daddy: Ava, I have good news for you. Jesus heard your prayers and he has answered them.
Ava: Oh, yay!!! Oh, mama, there’s a baby in your belly. Oh, I love the baby. I’m so happy. I’m so happy there’s a baby in your belly. Can I kiss the baby? I wanna kiss the baby. I love the baby. I will take good care of the baby. Dear Jesus, please don’t let this baby die. Amen! Jesus will take care of the baby, Mama. I love the baby SO much!
The following Thursday…
Mama: Ava, I have to tell you something very sad. There is no baby in Mama’s belly.
I sit this evening as I have sat for the past week with my hand placed over my mouth. What seemed to be the balm to comfort our not-yet-forgotten sorrows and a beautiful answer to the earnest prayers of a child has seeped away.
This news brought more visits to the waiting room full of women round with promise. I took my place next to neatly stacked issues of Fit Pregnancy and stared hard at a flat stomach that feels more like a tomb than a home. I am hallowed out. The emptiness has begotten sorrow and in it I find that I am speechless.
My sorrow is less for my empty arms than it is for my daughter’s empty hand. “Sammy and Anna go together, don’t they, Mama,” she said to me this afternoon at her friends’ house. “And Michal too. They all go together, don’t they? And Ava. Ava doesn’t go with anybody.” Yesterday, she explained to me that Corrinne and Rachel were sisters, and wanted to know if she could be their sister too. A few weeks before that, after discussing the relationship between her friend Ruthie and her younger sister Lydia, Ava asked me if Lydia could go in my tummy and then become her little sister. How I long to give her what I am powerless to give. How can the Lord not want for her, what seems so good for her? The brokenness that pushes out from my chest does not come from seeing the curve of an expectant mother or feeling the soft fuzz of a newborn, but from the framed picture of the smiling brother embracing his sister, from the glimpse of a girl in a shopping cart lifting her sister’s braid to whisper a secret, from the sight of Ava ringing around the rosies–her hands outstretched and clasping the plastic hands of a dolly.
This past year I have daily heard the faithful prayers of my two-year-old beseeching Jesus to “put a new baby” in her mama’s belly. I have watched a sweet friend hover over an infant son, whose sad, little heart was cut open, pieced together with artificial walls, valves, and rhythmic mechanisms, left open for days, pumped full of medicines, and finally stitched up to salvage the “unique among the unique.” I have listened to a beloved cousin face the frightening implications of “genetic disorder.” I prayed along with hundreds others for a baby boy whose illness mystified medical professionals, and then watched in wonder as his parents surrendered him before the Lord. And I find myself quiet, very quiet. There are no good, satisfying answers here; there are not even questions. Be still and know that I am God. I stand awestruck and silent–the holiness of God is indeed fierce and terrifying.
I wait for the Lord, my soul waits, and in His word I hope. That God is good. That He is true. That He is kind and loving, merciful and just. That He loves Ava and Nate and me. That, that is my hope. That is my only hope. Apart from that I have nothing. Yes, we have said goodbye to two babies in five months. And yes, there are far greater sufferings than these. Yet in these sufferings the Lord remains beautiful, mysteriously beautiful and wonderful, unfathomably wonderful.
So I hold my sadness in my hand, cover my mouth and behold His majesty: Blessed be Your glorious name, and may it be exalted above all blessing and praise. You alone are the LORD. You made the heavens, even the highest heavens, and all their starry host, the earth and all that is on it, the seas and all that is in them. You give life to everything. Blessed be Your glorious name.
Oh Rachel, my heart is broken for you, yet lifted at the same time to hear your words of faith. God has not forgotten you. My tears are for your two babies. We know they are in Heaven…but that does not remove the sadness that comes in waves. I feel for you…I ache for you…I pray for peace…I am encouraged again by your strength…The devil won’t get your family down, he can try, but he won’t succeed!! God is your God, and God is Faithful. Bless Ava for her prayers.
When you walk through the waters, I will be there..and through the flames. You’ll not be drowned, you’ll not be burned..for I am with you. “Fear not, for I am with you,” says the Lord!
We are so sad that you are hurting and wish our hugs could help & that I could think of something great to say. May God’s word continue to strengthen, heal, and encourage your broken hearts. We love you.
Those who read your words here have been blessed, our hearts turned towards Him, the Creator of our souls. I am so very, very sorry for your loss, Rachel, Nate and Ava. Even without me admonishing you to do so, I know you will keep your faces gazing towards Him. Lots of love from the McKinney’s.
Rachel,
My heart hurts for you, and for Ava and Nate. Please know you are in my thoughts and prayers.
Christa Dyer
Your words speak so clearly of the longing, heartbreak, and yes, acceptance, of your loss. I am so encouraged by the faithfulness of all three of you. I love you!
Oh, Rachel…I am so sorry. With tears in my eyes, all I can say is that I will be praying for you. My heart goes out to you, Nate, and your precious little Ava. Thanks for sharing your heart in the beautiful and God-glorifying that you did. He knows your pain and heartache…may He comfort you as ONLY He can right now. With lots of love, Kristi
Words can’t begin to express how my heart aches for you all. You are such amazing people and have blessed our lives beyond what you’ll know. Thank you for sharing your encouraging words of faith with us. We will continue to pray for you all, we love you Rachel, Nate and Ava.
Allie shared this with me and I wanted to let you know that we share in your pain. We understand as we have listened to Emily pray almost every night for over three years for a brother and sister. And my heart aches when she asks questions like “Why doesn’t God answer my prayers?”, or when she watches her friends become big sisters. But it is an amazing peace that God gives us when we remember that He is in control and His timing is perfect! I praise God for the plan he has for you and the way Ava is learning at a young age to continually pray for her hearts desires. And I know God also aches to give His daughter her hearts desire with a greater love than we as human parents will ever know. Sheryl Vold
Oh, Rach. My sweet friend. May God wrap you and nate and sweet Ava in His big Abba Father arms. I’m praying for you all.
Rachel, Nate & Ava,
I’m so sorry to hear of your sad news. His love is steadfast. I know you’re dwelling on that.
Love,
Katie
Dear Rachel, I have gone back and have been reading your blog postings from the beginning. I’m so sorry about losing your babies…my heart aches for you in that. I’m praying for you that God will give you His peace and health and that He will allow you to have another child. Blessings to you…
[...] Three months later, we had another little one growing within me and before we were able to share our good news, we were sharing more news of sorrow. [...]
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