My God, my God, why have you abandoned me?
Why are you so far from my deliverance
and from my words of groaning?
My God, I cry by day, but you do not answer,
by night, yet I have no rest.
But you are holy,
enthroned on the praises of Israel.
~Psalm 22:1-3 (CSB)
We were in church when Zoey came up to me, glassy-eyed and lip quivering. Glenn leaned over to me and said: “she held the baby and got emotional…”
Zoey turned to me and buried her face into my chest during the remainder of worship, and she cried. And cried. And cried some more.
I was angry. I’m talking mama bear angry.
I was angry with God.
I stood there holding her, stroking her hair, and I prayed. But I didn’t pray to God, I prayed AT him. You know what I mean? There’s a distinct difference. It went down a little like this:
God, how could this sweet child feel this way? Why in the world haven’t you taken away her desire for siblings? I know you have no intention of growing our family so why on earth is this our pain? Why does she have to hurt? If you can take the pain of infertility away from my heart, why on earth can’t you take it from my daughter? God, if you’re not going to redeem my story, then for the love, will you redeem her? Do not let her be infertile, but let her have more babies than she knows what to do with when she’s older. Redeem her. But please leave her out of this pain. Put the burden back on me if you have to, but take away her pain. Now. I’m fed up. I’m angry. I’m mad at you, God. I love you, but I am mad at you right now.
Later that day, I apologized. Because the truth is, I KNOW GOD ISN’T DOING THIS TO ME. God is trying to see me through it. He’s trying to see Zoey through it. We weren’t promised fertility. Even though my childhood was spent thinking I’d have a huge family, I’m certain he never promised me it would happen. And that’s something I have to be okay with. It’s something Zoey has to be okay with. Because even though there is great pain in what we lack, there is great blessing and joy in what we do have.
The point of this post is vulnerability. The point is to show that even though I love God and I want nothing more than to serve Jesus in every aspect of my life, I am a broken human. And God can take my anger… he can eradicate my shame… he can heal all wounds. Not just for me, but for my daughter. Sometimes I’m mad at God, and that’s okay… as long as I don’t unpack and live there. Because truly, he has blessed me in so many other ways. Sometimes I yell at him in church, and he can take it. And just like any child who has misbehaved, I come back to him with arms wide open asking for forgiveness because I know my place.
But the truth is, we have to be honest with how we feel. So ladies, instead of turning away from God in your anger, turn to him. He can take it. He’ll see you through it, I promise. Life may not be the way we think it should be, but that doesn’t mean he’s not there working things out for our good. Like Romans 8:28 tells us: We know that all things work together for the good of those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.
We are called.
And to be honest, as heart-wrenching as infertility and miscarriage is, I know that God has me here for a purpose. That purpose is you. You who are reading this today… because if it wasn’t for this trial, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have made the friends I’ve made. I wouldn’t have been able to walk some of you through your treatments when you felt so alone and afraid. So as painful as this journey is, I get it.
But as a mother, I’m desperately begging for God to spare my daughter of it all. That is my continued prayer.
Will you join me in praying that same prayer over her?