The death of a baby, the death of motherhood
Miscarriage is the death of a baby, of motherhood, and of family.
Psalm 139: 13-16, “For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made. Wonderful are your works; my soul knows it very well. My frame was not hidden from you, when I was being made in secret, intricately woven in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.”
I’m a Mama of 14 children, nine of whom the Lord saw fit to bring to term and five of whom never once saw the dawning of the sun. I’m still their Mama and they are still my babies but my time to mother them was gone when their hearts quit beating.
I miscarried five times.
Miscarriage is a hard word, full of loss and broken hearts. In times when women willingly murder the precious babes in their wombs, Mamas of little ones lost in the womb to miscarriage are often ignored. I certainly was.
From life into death
My first miscarriage was physically my worst. I was early in the second trimester when the pain started. Within a day, I felt a sharp explosion within me and the hemorrhaging began. By the time we made it to the hospital, I’d lost nearly half of the volume of my blood. I couldn’t hold my head up, could barely move, and could neither see nor hear clearly. I was, by all accounts, dying. It took many efforts to get a needle into my collapsed veins. All that mattered to me was that my baby was gone. I was heart broken.
My church ignored our loss. and my husband didn’t understand. My mother, who had lost twins–one at two hours old, one at four months and three days–told me “At least you didn’t know him.”
But I did know him. Except it wasn’t a him, it was a her. I say this with the confidence of a mother who always knew the sex of her unborn babe almost from conception. We named her Bronwyn. I knew her butterfly movements, the closeness of her heart. I knew my daughter and I’d lost her. She was gone, forever. The Lord had given, and the Lord had taken.
Within less than a year, we’d lost her brother. Through the years, three more followed. With each, I mourned alone.
King David’s baby
In Scripture, when King David’s baby died and he was informed of it he said, “But now he is dead, wherefore should I fast? can I bring him back again? I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.” This is of comfort to me, the mother of lost little ones. I ache somedays for the moment I’ll finally see them, my babies, my boys, my girls. What a joyous reunion that will be when, finally face to face, we worship our Savior together.
Some theologians believe babies, some or all, go to hell. I don’t believe this. I’m not a studied theologian, just a heartbroken Mama who loves the Lord’s Word. I’m not basing my belief on my feelings or desires, both of which are almost always a poor indicator of truth. Rather, I’ve turned to godly men who have studied the issue. Charles Sprugeon was the first preacher whose work I found addressing the death of babies. What wondrous words of comfort, biblical and full of rejoicing, they were. Also, John MacArthur has been of tremendous help to me and to many others concerning this issue. He has sermons concerning what happens at the death of a wee little one and he’s also written an excellent book on the subject.
The time of rejoicing
There’s far too few children in this world. Our modern world hates babies, despises children, and abhors motherhood and fatherhood. God says differently. He tells us that, “Behold, children are a heritage from the Lord, the fruit of the womb a reward. Like arrows in the hand of a warrior are the children of one’s youth. Blessed is the man who fills his quiver with them! He shall not be put to shame when he speaks with his enemies in the gate.” Psalm 127: 3
The Lord knows our wee ones before He creates them. God watches over babies in the womb and, if they make their exit far too early, through miscarriage or through death at the hands of their own mothers, He watches over them still. And we will meet with them, our precious babes, one day. They are not lost to us forever. One wondrous day, all the saints of God, from our wee babes to the most elderly among us, now freed from this earthly body and in an everlasting and perfected one, will gather together in one accord around the throne of God as we rejoice and praise our Savior forever and ever. Amen.
Matthew 18: 10, “See that you do not despise one of these little ones. For I tell you that in heaven their angels always see the face of my Father who is in heaven.”