If you didn't already hear, we miscarried again. For the third time. I had surgery this morning. As much as is possible with this type of surgery, it was successful. I went in pregnant and left not. Went in with a tiny, 8-week-old baby curled up in my belly and left with an empty uterus.
Thanks to each of you who sent messages, called, or promised meals. While I'm struggling to feel God's arms around me right now, I can at least feel yours. (And I guess maybe that's His way of being there for me right now-through you.)
Yesterday, while I was sharing the news with my mom, we started talking about God and how he could allow this to happen for a third time. Once, I got. Even twice, I finally learned to accept. But three times?
I don't think I'm ever going to understand why God isn't stepping in to prevent these miscarriages. If I were he, I think I would do something to stop them. Haven't I had enough? But then again, I'm not God. And if I could understand all of his actions (or inaction in this case), he'd be a pretty small God.
As much as I want to understand why, I doubt I ever will. I'm choosing (and I hope I can maintain this attitude) to believe anyway. As Jeremy Camp says in his song "I Still Believe" (that he wrote after his wife died), I still believe even when I cannot see. Even when my view of God is blocked by the thunder clouds . . . even when storm after storm hits my family . . . even when it feels like God has abandoned me, I still believe...