Motherhood, Loss, and Healing Pt 2: God IS Enough

Filed under From Marriage to Motherhood on Mar 01 13 by

It’s amazing the clarity you receive on how things really are once you have suffered a personal tragedy—the things you learn of others’ hardships, or their own sufferings, of triumphs and victories that took many failures to overcome. Laying in that ER bed, hearing myself ask, “Is there any hope,” and hearing the doctor’s answer, “None that I can tell,” was shattering to my mindset. But to turn my head as the curtain swished closed, to stand with tears streaming down my face, and have my arms around two other dear hearts, just as many tears streaming down their faces, I knew I was loved beyond anything that could go wrong in life. If I had doubted before that moment that my sisters loved me, I didn’t any longer. I lay there, saying to God in my head, “You are enough, You are enough, You are enough,” and praying, “God let us get through this,” but I knew that He had given me these beautiful women at that moment, to comfort, guide, and draw us closer than we had ever been. I now have a tattoo of an “E “ on my wrist to commemorate that day of sisterhood, but I don’t need it. It’s cemented in my heart. If I ever doubt them, I will go back to that moment, with our arms around each other, and tears coming down our faces.

I wrote the previous paragraph one week after my miscarriage. I write to release emotions, to think them through, and often to get clarity. As I reread that paragraph this month, I thanked God for the strength He gave me that day, and for the battle I know went on in my mind. I could have wallowed in bitterness towards God. Hatred could have bubbled up in me. But the first thing, and I remember this with absolute certainty, the very first thing that came to my mind, was the one line of fervent prayer I prayed over and over again. “You are enough. You are enough. God, You are enough.” I did not pray that prayer because I am an “amazing Christian”. God gave me the faith that day; He gave me the strength. He mercifully guided me to His heart for me, telling me that He was enough. Added to that, He surrounded me with hearts to grieve with, and the strength of sisters.

That day, my younger sister was, in a word, fierce. I have never seen my her like that before, and honestly I hope I am never on the receiving end of it. B, as I like to call her, is a gentler person than I. She is the essence of southern sweetness and light, wanting to always uplift and encourage. She is rarely mean, even if she hates your guts. But in that hospital, waiting to find out if my baby was still with us, she took on a whole ‘nother persona. I think my older sister actually had to hold her back at one point. She was gonna give a very unhelpful nurse a piece of her mind—and possibly fist! And when we were leaving, she made sure to get the nurses name, just to report how very unhelpful and “ungentle” she was to me.

My older sister—we’ll call her S—took over completely after all the awfulness happened. She made sure anything I needed was attended to, even if it was not a fun thing I was asking of her. I told her, “I don’t want to talk to anyone but Dave. I can’t bear to hear the sadness in their voices. I am barely holding on now. Can you tell the family?” And she did. She called my parents and brothers and told them about the loss; she told them I would call when I was ready. She and my younger sister stood out in the parking lot calling family, as I called Dave, and told him of our loss. I had told S that I didn’t want phone calls either, and she gave specific instructions to others so that this was taken care of. I was in a haze, but she took care of everything. She drove us to a restaurant, and then to a hotel. I don’t remember much after dinner that night, as I decided it didn’t matter anymore whether I was responsible, and I had one too many drinks to be coherent. But she was gracious, even though alcohol abuse is not something she abides; she took care of me like one of her own children.

Protective. Defending. Gentle. Caring. That’s what my sisters did that day—and to me, it spelled LOVE. God surrounded me with arms to hold me. Even though Dave was over a thousand miles away, God provided comfort for both of us in our grief.

Me and my amazing sisters!

In a few months, it will have been two years since my miscarriage, but I still mourn little Grace some days. We didn’t know if it was a boy or a girl when I lost the baby, as it was still too early to find out. But the name Grace came to me one night during praise and worship at the camp fire during high school camp that summer. The worship band was playing the song, “How He Loves,” by John Mark McMillan. As the verse played and the words, “If grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking,” rang in my ears, tears poured down my face. I sobbed as I sat on that wooden bench in the dusk. My heart opened up that evening, and I received even more of his grace. I knew every word was true, because He was teaching me it was so.

I can’t even begin to tell you the things God taught us in the months following my miscarriage. He brought my marriage together like never before, and He allowed us to draw closer to each other and to Him as we mourned our loss. It could have gone completely different than that—we could have been bitter, pushed each other away, rejected His arms of love, mercy, strength, and comfort. Our great and mighty God, Jesus Christ, is the only reason we could do anything to His glory, and I pour out unending thankfulness to our Heavenly Father for that amazing and powerful gift. “And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28 NIV)

“How He Loves”
by John Mark McMillan

He is jealous for me,
Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree,
Bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy.

When all of a sudden,
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory,
And I realize just how beautiful You are,
And how great Your affections are for me.

And oh, how He loves us so,
Oh how He loves us,
How He loves us all.

And we are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes,
If His grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking.

And Heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss,
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest,
I don’t have time to maintain these regrets,
When I think about, the way…

He loves us,
Oh how He loves us,
How He loves us all
How He loves.

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Leigh Eddy Nelson
Leigh is currently a stay-at-home-mom, or SAHM, ministering to the community around her at The Oaks Camp and Conference Center in Lake Hughes, California. Writing has been a passion of hers since she was a little girl, and God has given her a gift to share her experiences in life, love, marriage, and her journey to, and through, motherhood. Follow her journey here every month!
  • Heather Currado

    I love it, Leigh!