I won’t bother with all the details.
Suffice it to say that we did not get the bloodwork started today.
Apparently the only person in our entire city who can do it is on vacation.
So they botched-up my appointment, and now we have to wait again.
Back into the schedule we go.
I guess we’ll try yet again another time.
And in the meantime I need to remember that Christ’s hand is holding my chin above the water.
Right now I feel like the water is above my nose.
so this morning I got another hcg test from the doctor and it looks like we’re good to go now for the big blood draw on Monday. sounds like it will be about 35 tubes. and they will only get about half of it from the first arm, so then they’ll switch! ick. not my idea of fun. but *totally 100% worth it*! please pray with us that the blood draws would go well on Monday – that the iron packed foods and gallons of water I’ll be drinking will produce oodles of good blood for them. and then pray with us that God would orchestrate the results to come back quickly! it could take up to a month, but I am hoping for closer to two weeks. 🙂
blessings!!
The word frequently translated “repent” in Job 42:6 is used six other times in the book, and it is nowhere else translated “repent.” It is always translated (in the NKJV anyways) as “comfort” or “comforted” or “comforters.”
One of the great problems for Job is that he can find no real comfort, no true comforter. Rather then being helped, he is hounded by his comforters. The three friends gather around him to comfort him (2:11), and Job certainly was looking for comfort (7:13), but they are “miserable comforters” (16:2). After more of their accusations, Job concludes that they have tried to comfort him with empty [hebel] answers (21:34). Try as he may, Job can find no comfort. Job was once a great king who offered comfort to others in their mourning (29:25), but he has found none in his distress.
Given this narrative, it makes great sense to see Job’s final response to Yahweh’s speeches not as some kind of change of mind (i.e. repentance), especially since the Lord explicitly says that what Job spoke was right (42:7-8). Rather, it makes great sense to see Job as saying that he is finally comforted in his dust and ashes. The last use of the word is in 42:11 where his brothers and sisters come to him, eat with him, and really do comfort him. Job first finds his comfort in Yahweh, the Great Comforter, and then his brothers and sisters come and extend more of the comfort of Yahweh to Job.
The other verb in 42:6 is MA’AS which is usually translated “reject/refuse/despise.” The word is used a number of times in Job: Eliphaz exhorts Job not to reject the discipline of the Almighty (5:17), Bildad says that God will not reject the blameless (8:20), Job cries out to God asking why He despises the work of His hands (10:3), even children despise him Job says (19:18), and Elihu insists that God is just and does not randomly reject people (35:5).
The challenge with translating this verse is that it has no direct object. What does Job reject/despise/refuse? There is one other use of the same verb in Job where there is no direct object but the context fills out the meaning for us. In 7:16, Job says “I despise _____ : I would not live forever. Leave me alone for my days are but a breath.” Given the context it makes good sense for the translators to supply the words “my life.” Job says: “I despise my life: I don’t want to live forever…” And Job says something similar later in 9:21 when he insists, “I am blameless, yet I do not know myself, I despise my life.” And here the direct object “my life” is explicitly provided. The idea is that Job knows he’s blameless, but given his circumstances he does not want to live.
So my suggestion for translating 42:6 is the following:
“Therefore I despise my life but I am comforted in my dust and ashes.”
Job is still in great pain, he has lost so much of what was dear to him, and his kingdom is still in terrific jeopardy, but in those dust and ashes, in the dust and ashes of his mourning and despair, Yahweh has spoken to him. Yahweh has spoken in the midst of the storm, and therefore Job is comforted.
Line muffin cups with paper liners or spray well with a baking spray. Heat oven to 375°.
In a large bowl, combine flour, oats, baking powder, soda, salt, and brown sugar, stirring to blend. Whisk eggs with butter and vanilla; stir into the dry ingredients along with buttermilk. Stir until blended. Stir in chopped cherries.
Fill muffin cups about almost to tops of papers. Bake for 20 minutes, or until browned and the tops spring back when pressed lightly with a finger.
~Samuel Rutherford (1660-1661)
Today I am thankful that even though there are frequent moments when I feel like I am about to drown,
I can feel His hand holding my chin above the waves.
Praise the Lord, for He is kind!!
Thank you, friends, for faithfully upholding us before the throne of grace. We are thankful for each and every one of you.
The short story:
Dr. R seems very professional, very knowledgeable, very kind. His bedside manner was great, and he treated both my hubby & me with compassion and respect. We are thankful that he supports us and will do whatever he can to help us through the next few weeks (hopefully not months…) of testing, results, and praying for another miracle baby. My body is still hanging onto pregnancy hormones (grrrr) so we can’t begin the big battery of tests until that is gone. So I will keep going in and getting poked until the lab tells us I’m at a zero. We are praying that July 20th will be the day when I can finally “donate blood” — that’s how much they take from me for the testing, so I might as well call it that. 🙂
We’ve got about a 30% chance of finding out the reason(s) our babies have died. It’s worth it to us.
He said that each time I get pregnant (without knowing if I have an anomaly hidden somewhere — thus, the testing), my baby probably has an 80% chance of being full-term and healthy. If we didn’t have Gabriel, that number would be significantly lower. So we praise God for the comfort of our son!!
I don’t even know exactly how to pray — beyond “Thy will be done.” Sometimes I want to pray that we would find something “wrong” in the test results so we can address the issue. Other times I want to pray that all tests would come back unremarkable so there’s nothing to do but keep trying & keep praying. I know that in all things God is good and He is sovereign. So I am confident that our future is in His loving and mighty hands. And so are the futures of my children.
Thank you for your prayers. And the emails. And the comments here. I appreciate each and every one. God bless you.
I have more appointments scheduled. More blood tests. More scans. More consultations. We continue to pray that God will use these appointments, and the medical staff with which we are working, as His instruments of grace.
Peace be with you.
We have a big doctor’s appointment tomorrow morning.
If you think of it, please pray with us along these lines:
that God would enable Dr. R to be His tool and a conduit of His grace
that God would give us & Dr. R wisdom and guidance
that God would fill us with peace as we begin talking and testing and weighing options
that we would be very thankful for the doctor, the funds, and the means to look into our babies’ deaths
that God would add to our family quickly, many more healthy & beautiful children
I compiled the following list from a book I read, some things online, and of course my personal experience. If you find it helpful, please take it or copy it or whatever. And please know that I desire for it to be edifying for you. Not just because you know me, but because you may come into contact with others in the future who suffer from losing babies. I pray that this will enable you to interact kindly and compassionately with such families. If you are the one suffering miscarriage (or another form of grief — there are many), please feel free to adapt this to you, your form of coping, your beliefs, your emotions. If you are in contact with someone who has suffered miscarriage, please take this with a grain of salt and simply consider whether these might be helpful guidelines/suggestions when you come into contact with that person. Of course I am not implying that everyone could (or should!) do every one of these things for every person they know who miscarries. Use wisdom. Remember that kindness and loving your neighbor is the point.
Also, please remember what “etiquette” means: “conventions to regulate social behavior.” Etiquette is a form of loving your neighbor, living in a Trinitarian way, putting another’s comfort before your own. When you read the following, don’t assume that I am shouting but simply suggesting. What follows is not universal. But then again, you may be surprised to find out just how common my emotions are. Whatever this means to you, I pray that it would be a blessing to you and somehow spread encouragement to those whose lives are affected by losing babies.
Miscarriage Etiquette
for the “don’t” section below, please think of each one as saying “please consider not doing….”
· Don’t say “it’s God’s will.” Unless you are my pastor and I am seeking specific counseling, please don’t presume to tell me what God wants for me. Many terrible things are God’s will—that doesn’t make them less terrible. Because of God’s love for us, He will turn death around and use it for good, but it is not in itself a blessing.
· Don’t say “it was for the best—there was probably something wrong with your baby.” The fact that something was wrong with the baby—or with me—is what makes me so sad. My baby never even had a chance. Please don’t try to comfort me by pointing that out.
· Don’t say “you can always have another one.” My baby was not disposable. None of my children are disposable. I would have died for this baby, just as you would die for your children.
· Don’t say “be grateful for the children you do have.” If your mother died in a car accident, you would be grieved terribly. The fact that your father may still be alive does not take away the grief over the loss of your mother. Other children do not in any way replace the baby I have lost.
· Don’t say “be thankful you lost the baby before you loved it.” I did love my baby. I still do love my baby. Whether I lost the baby just after finding out he existed in my tummy, or after delivering full-term, my heart would be overflowing with love for this baby.
· Don’t say “be thankful you lost the baby before you knew it.” This is far from comforting to a parent who so desperately wanted to spend years knowing this baby. I ached to know my baby.
· Don’t say “isn’t it time you got over this and moved on?” Being stricken with grief is not enjoyable. I wish this had never happened. But it did, and it is now part of me forever. The grief will ease on its own timeline—not mine, most certainly not yours—but the grief in some capacity will always be part of me. Don’t make me feel like I have to ignore my grief just to make you feel better.
· Don’t say “you’ll get to meet the baby in heaven someday.” As true as I believe this is—and I praise God for it—I honestly wanted this baby to bury me in my old age, not to bury my baby in its infancy.
· Don’t say “I understand how you feel.” Unless you’ve lost a child, you have no idea how I feel. And even if you have lost a child, remember that everyone experiences grief differently.
· Don’t tell me horror stories of your neighbor or cousin or mother who “had it worse.” The last thing I need to hear right now is that it is possible to have this happen six or twelve times, or that I could carry until two days before my due-date and labor 20 hours for a dead baby. These stories are horrifying and frightening; they leave me sleepless and weeping. Happy ending or not, do not share these stories with me. I have had enough grief and terror and weeping of my own.
· Don’t pretend it didn’t happen and don’t change the subject when I bring it up. If I say “before the baby died” or “when I was pregnant” don’t get scared or clam-up. If I am talking about it, it means I want to. I may need to. Let me. Pretending it didn’t happen will only make me feel utterly alone. Pretending my baby didn’t exist is a falsehood and breaks my heart.
· Don’t say “it’s not your fault.” Whether it’s my fault or not doesn’t make a difference. This tiny little person depended on my womb to nourish and care for him, and apparently I couldn’t do it. For whatever reason. I was supposed to care for her for a lifetime, but couldn’t even carry him for nine months. You can not even imagine how angry and confused I am at my body right now.
· Don’t say “well, maybe you shouldn’t have another baby right now anyway” or “you weren’t too sure about having this baby right now.” I feel so guilty for ever having complained about exhaustion or morning sickness or the financial repercussions of another child. I would give anything in the world to be dead tired and puking up a storm right now. I would go into debt ten times to have my baby back in my tummy.
· Don’t say “it will happen when it’s supposed to” or “look on the bright side” or “here, just take my kids” or “kids aren’t all they’re cracked up to be anyway.” This minimizes my grief and mocks my heartache. Scripture says “Whoever sings songs to a heavy heart is like one who takes off a garment on a cold day, and like vinegar on soda” (Proverbs 25:20). It is repulsive.
· Don’t say “maybe you aren’t meant to have more children” or “you can always adopt” or “what about finding a surrogate?” or “you’re still young, you can try again.” These make me realize that you have no comprehension of my pain, no compassion for our loss, and don’t understand the problem. If I had a broken arm, responses like these would be ridiculous. These don’t apply to me. Be sensitive to that.
· Don’t say “there are plenty of people who are happy without kids or with only one kid” or something like that. You have no idea what our hopes and dreams are, where God is leading us as a family, what size family we feel called to, or why we want (more) children. The fact that some people don’t have children has nothing to do with us. Please respect the fact that we want a large family. There is absolutely nothing wrong with wanting more kids. And the fact that we’ve had babies die does not in any way indicate that our desires are inappropriate.
· Don’t say “you shouldn’t be angry.” The Bible does not say that anger at injustice is wrong, but that we shouldn’t sin in our anger (Ephesians 4:26). Anger at injustice is a natural stage of the grieving process as a person works out how his or her struggles fit into their relationship with God. I am angry that death is in the world. I am angry that I am a sinner, and therefore am part of the cause of death.
· Don’t constantly remind me that “all things work together for good if you love God.” It is easy enough to quote Romans 8:28 in a trite manner, but remember that Romans 8:26 comes first: “the Spirit helps us in our weakness. For we do not know what to pray for as we ought, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groanings too deep for words.” I have never felt weaker than when I lose a baby. And sometimes it is even hard to pray. I am thankful that I have the Holy Spirit. Understand that I am weak and relying wholly on God’s strength. Understand that only the Spirit intercedes for me.
· Don’t say “but you believe in the sovereignty of God.” Yes, I do. I understand that God controls all things. But that does not necessarily imply that death makes me skip around laughing, handing out lollipops to everyone. In God’s sovereignty, resurrection follows death. But it does not mean that death in itself is lovely. Remember what I said to begin with: God allows many terrible things to happen, but that does not mean they are any less terrible.
· Don’t say “oh please don’t cry.” Even Jesus cried when Lazarus was dead. Right before He would raise him up! Let me cry. I need to, more than you can ever imagine.
· Do recognize that I have suffered a death in my family—not a medical condition.
· Do recognize that in addition to the physical aftereffects I may experience, I am going to be grieving for quite some time. Please remember to treat me as you would any person who has endured the tragic death of a loved one.
· Do say “I am so sorry.” Or even “I am so sad for you.” That’s enough. You don’t need to be eloquent. Sometimes what you think may be eloquent or helpful really just digs the wound deeper into my heart.
· Do say “I will pray for you.” But if you say you will, make sure you do.
· Do send flowers or a short note—every acknowledgement like that reminds me that my baby’s life meant something, that my baby was loved.
· Do feel free to offer to bring over a meal or even just a cup of coffee. But don’t be offended if you arrive and I need you to simply drop it off and head home. I might not be able to predict what days will be good and what days will be particularly trying. If I invite you in, please come visit and mourn with me. But if I don’t, please give me a hug, drop off the food, and understand that I will visit with you at some other future time.
· Do refer to my baby as a baby, even use the baby’s name. Please don’t forget that this is a member of our family, not a medical issue that happened on one day. This was a creation who bore the image of our holy God. Do not minimize that.
· Do understand that I may need some time and space. If I don’t respond to phone calls, please don’t resent that. Or if I leave quickly from church. Or if I avoid group activities for a while. Help me by not needing anything from me for a while.
· Do understand if I do not attend baby showers (or similar activities) for a while. And don’t ask why I can’t come. Please don’t take this personally or resent me for it.
· Do be considerate, and don’t share pregnancy or baby news with me until I ask. It’s not that I can’t be happy for anyone else, it’s simply that every smiling, cooing baby or every glowing round new mommy makes me ache so deep in my heart that I can barely keep from exploding. Please help me keep away from temptation, and protect me from news that would simply enhance my heartache.
· Do understand that church is very emotional for me right now. Remember that our belief that we ascend into heaven during our Lord’s Day worship means that only on Sundays at that time does my family ever really sit and fellowship together as a whole. The rest of the week, only a remnant of my family lives together. If I seem extra emotional during worship, it is because of the solemnity, joy, and sorrow involved in actually having my entire family together.
· Do remember that although I may look okay to you—I may even be smiling and tear-free—there is a good chance that I am still barely able to get myself dressed each day and cry myself to sleep every night. It may be weeks or months before I can go a whole hour without thinking about my barren womb or my dead child.
· Do keep in mind that this is the worst thing that has ever happened to me and my family. The word “miscarriage” is small and easy. But my baby’s death is monolithic and devastating. It takes much time to figure out how to live with it. Please bear with me.
· Do remember that all the above applies to me as the mommy but also to my husband as the daddy. Don’t assume that he is peachy-keen, even when he looks it. Please deal kindly and compassionately with him. Many people assume that men are invincible to grief. They are not. Remember what I said about Jesus weeping over death.
· Do remember that even grandparents of the baby—or siblings, depending on how old they are—grieve for the family member they have lost. Be kind, be sensitive, be helpful, be compassionate. Above all, keep in the forefront of your mind that when you speak with someone who has been touched by miscarriage, they have been touched by death.
“I know grace rootheth not out the affections of a mother, but putteth them on His wheel who maketh all things new, that they may be refined; therefore sorrow for a dead child is allowed to you… He commandeth you to weep; and that princely One, who took up to heaven with Him a man’s heart to be a compassionate High Priest, became your fellow and companion on earth, by weeping for the dead (John 11:35)… The cup ye drink was at the lip of sweet Jesus, and He drank of it; and so it hath a smell of His breath. And I conceive ye love it not the worse, that it is thus sugared; therefore drink, and believe the resurrection of your son’s body…”
~Samuel Rutherford (1660-1661), from pp. 90-91 of “The Loveliness of Christ“
my usual:
the Bible – still going through the latter part of the New Testament, just starting 2 John
“Morning and Evening” by C.H. Spurgeon
“The Loveliness of Christ” by Samuel Rutherford
“The Hidden Art of Homemaking” by Edith Schaeffer
new additions:
“The Ache for a Child” by Debra Bridwell
“Empty Womb, Aching Heart” by Marlo Schalesky
“A Path Through Suffering” by Elisabeth Elliot
“When The Darkness Will Not Lift” by John Piper
what are you reading??
