I always wanted to marry young and have a big family. Raise six kids. Four girls and two boys. (As if could choose that part.)
But God orchestrated His plans for two late bloomers to meet later in life. I married my sweet husband, Kirk when I was almost 38.
You don’t have to do math to know that time for a woman to bear children is short after that age.
God graciously gave us a son after almost a year of trying, praying, and waiting. And what a gift he has been! So full of life and energy. We often joke that he got his genes from the other spouse when we are worn out by his almost three year old antics.
Life is full and I love being home. It’s my highest calling. Kirk has given me the greatest offering- to be free to serve my family and others out of the ministry of our home with all my attention, energy, and heart. And I have never seen God provide in so many ways.
From the outside we look like the little, happy country family. And we are in so many ways.
But we live in a broken, unredeemed world.
We first miscarried in February of 2024. I wrote a post about it, “Not a Sparrow Falls.” It was crushing when we found out at 12 weeks we had lost our baby at 8.5 weeks after feeling pregnant all that time. I ended up with complications from a D and C. The whole ordeal was traumatic and raw.
We decided to trust again.
We got pregnant after moving into our new build in mid August of 2024. It was also at the time of our would have been due date of our first loss. It felt special, redemptive. But then I began to miscarry around 7 weeks. It was shocking. The process was much kinder on my body this time, and it helped me recognize the loss as my body let go of this little life.
I began to seek answers as I knew too many women who had experienced recurrent miscarriages with medical reasons. I felt judged by comments. I sensed something was wrong with me.
What most people don’t understand is that the pain of miscarriage and infertility becomes a prolonged, hidden grief.
Turns out in my pursing answers I have a genetic mutation no know in mainstream medicine knows what to do with.
I did my own research after having labs done, because I was literally told by my doctor to “Google it.” I talked to a dear friend who’s knowledgeable, and began to change what I needed to- taking methylated vitamins for the rest of my life. In addition, I needed to avoid regular folic acid. I began to read and make changes to just be healthier all around.
In all this, I sought out a hematologist to go over my clotting factors and history. They refused to see me, because I didn’t have a diagnosis. This made zero sense to me as that was what I was pursuing- answers under their speciality.
My OB did as I asked and sent a referral to Maternal Fetal medicine (MFM). And in the process of these referrals I found out I was pregnant again. The referral didn’t go through, and so I called back and forth. Turns out the OB went back on her word, they weren’t going to see me until after my 8 week ultrasound.
I sat and waited, angry and anxious. I started to notice symptoms telling of a hormonal shift and miscarriage. I advocate hard. My OB won’t do anything, specialists refused see me, a nearby pregnancy center couldn’t see me either, I helplessly watch as,
every
single
door
closes.
I can tell in the spiritual realms a battle is waging. I feel heavy, like something is pending. I turn to the Word and my books. Everything I read is preparing me for miscarriage.
For a third time.
I called my OB office again, and was literally told to “think positive thoughts” though I’m having symptoms of a miscarriage. I headed to the ER per their suggestion. I experienced more compassion from the technician that any staff at my OB care.
We were shocked when the heartbeat was detected after I thought I was miscarrying!! I went home and tried to relax. “You’re going to have a Christmas baby,” is what the doctor said.
I can’t shake the feeling that something is off as every single pregnancy symptom has disappeared at this point. I found a new OB, but a few hours later my body begins to bleed, and I knew. I knew what I knew all along- that God was preparing us for a third miscarriage.
I miscarry a week before Mother’s Day, and 10 days before another would be due date.
And life becomes bewildering.
I carry a continual weight because you don’t know what the future holds and you fear what it does hold.
It’s hard to grieve losses that had so many hopes and dreams attached to them.
Hope is like seeing visions of children playing around you, while the warm sun beams and the waves crash with their laughter. You lay on the beach surrounded by your babies. Miscarriage is the reality of the waves and billows that roll over you instead.
And so- this is the part of life that can get really dark and fuzzy. Why does God give babies to people who don’t even want them, abort or abuse them? Why even grant a pregnancy, plant hope, and then uproot it?
There’s nothing more agonizing than carrying life after it’s gone. It’s a unique experience I wouldn’t wish upon anyone.
People think you move on. You get over it. Or you can just try again.
It has been beyond hard, and hardest on my husband and I. The valleys are deep and dark and lonely. Few people really can walk it out with you.
And then light breaks through.
I met an OB and a hematologist who actually care, explained somethings and pursued answers with me.
We decided to do genetic testing this time on our miscarried baby. Turns out he’s a boy. Just knowing that gives a little something to hold onto about him. He had triploidy- which is a third set of chromosomes. It is almost always fatal, in pregnancy or shortly after birth. The good news is that it’s an error in cell division, not related to age, genetics or a reoccurring thing.
More light. We began to heal, our marriage, our family, our trust in God.
I began to earnestly pray for a circle of friends who had gone through similar things, that circle now around me too.
God had given me the name “Glory” prior to this third miscarriage when the darkness began to settle in. I told God that I know he wants the glory… but turns out we are on a road to Glory.
Roses kept popping up on my path, and some sweet friends had given me some. We planted one in our son’s honor. I found this page I opened to in a book friends had given me:
I had felt forgotten and achingly empty. Loss drains you of every vitality.
Then God began to speak.
My brother, a missionary in Spain, reminded me that Jesus walked the “Via De La Rosa”- the road to glory is always marked by suffering.
Suffering always precedes glory.
It turns out our son was always glory bound. What peace in knowing this!
The path to redemption, to glory, is the path of suffering. Because it’s the way Jesus chose. It’s the broken world we live in. We must walk through brokenness to find wholeness in Christ.
Christ was literally broken for us. His wounds cover ours. He bore our greatest suffering- the justice of God for our sins on the Cross. We will suffer in this life, but we are promised a greater, incomparable glory in Him!!
We named our son Lane Michael. Michael for my husband’s middle name. Lane for the road God has apportioned for us.
Glory lies just ahead.
“A moment of pain is worth a lifetime of glory.” Louis Zamperini
Movement in a Mercurial World 