Growth in Faith Through the Heartbreak of Growing Our Family

My husband and I have been married for 26 years and we are blessed with three, spunky, energetic, fun, kids who often think they live in The Sound of Music. They love to sing, dance, play soccer and basketball, and poke fun and fingers at one another. We are in love with our family. Growing our family was very difficult and led to great growth of our faith.

Looking at us, you wouldn’t know the heartbreaking journey we experienced on our way to parenthood.  We experienced much grief and heartbreak along the way. Honestly, I’ve been working on sharing this piece for a very long while. As many of you know, grief doesn’t actually go away, we just learn to work through it. And thinking about it all has been overwhelming. But God is faithful, even in the heartbreak and He uses our great struggles to grow our faith. And we hope that by sharing our struggles, we can encourage others to trust God through the heartbreak.

After four years of marriage, (2000) we desired to hear the pitter-patter of little feet running through our home. We believed we were ready to embark on the journey of parenthood. We prayed and we waited, and just before Easter my pregnancy test revealed the desired second line. I excitedly planned on how to tell my husband the good news; I discreetly bought and hid a baby rattle to put in my husband’s Easter basket. Easter is a joyous time and Frank was so happy to find out about my little secret. We were extremely joyful and prayed for our bundle.

After a week or so, I began to experience complications. At my first doctor’s appointment, my blood was drawn and my HCG level was not where it should have been. The doctor explained that I was likely having a miscarriage. I shed a thousand tears. He said that the baby may have had a chromosomal abnormality. Through my uncontrollable tears, I could barely say that I wouldn’t have cared about that…I already loved my baby. The doctor prescribed progesterone and bedrest to see if it would help. My husband and I prayed and prayed. I took the medicine and I rested. I knew without a doubt that God could heal my baby and heal my body. My faith was greater than a mustard seed. Yet, a few days later, I experienced my first pregnancy loss. My heart was broken and it wouldn’t be repaired for a very long time. You have taken account of my miseries; Put my tears in Your bottle. Are they not in Your book? (Psalm 56:8). God must have filled multiple bottles with my tears that day.

The loss was devastating. How could we prevent this from happening again? Because the doctor determined the cause to be low progesterone, he told me to take Progesterone while we tried to get pregnant. So, month after month I took the medication at the indicated time. But, still no baby. Each month that we didn’t conceive felt like the loss all over. After several months, the pain was too much. I told Frank that I couldn’t take how I was feeling. Every month, I suffered through the loss, so we determined to let God and time heal us before we tried again.

After three years, we finally had another positive pregnancy test. About eight weeks into the pregnancy, I began to have signs of another miscarriage. I called the doctor and they said to come right in. A friend from work drove me and Frank met me there. I was crying and so devastated and heartbroken that I couldn’t sit in the waiting room. I asked my husband to take me home. I reasoned that if I was already miscarrying, they couldn’t do anything anyway and I was too broken to sit and wait with all of the happy, pregnant people. Frank asked at the window and a nurse led us to a room where we could wait. I felt defeated and hopeless. The only thing we could do was pray. Our only hope was in the goodness of God. For I know the plans that I have for you,’ declares the Lord, ‘plans for welfare and not for calamity to give you a future and a hope (Jer. 29:11). The nurse took me in for an ultrasound and we were excited to hear that our baby had a heartbeat. There was a subchorionic hematoma and it would resolve on its own. We received our first little blessing three years after our loss. Her middle name is Hope because all of our hope was in the goodness of the Lord. We had hope that He would bless us with a child and He did.

  We loved our little family and wanted to add another little bundle. Shortly after I stopped nursing, we prayed and decided it was time to try for a second child. After over a year and no success, the doctor determined to run some tests and referred us to a fertility specialist. We drove up to another state and endured several additional tests. I was diagnosed with unexplained infertility; there was not determined cause. We were again heartbroken. We were hoping for answers.  We understood that others had suffered more and we were grateful to have a child. But, that didn’t take away the hurt or the desire for another child.

An undetermined cause meant that there wouldn’t be any specific treatment. Initially, I was prescribed Clomid (a fertility medication). However, after six months I wasn’t pregnant and the doctor didn’t recommend continuing the medication.

      Next, the fertility specialist recommended artificial insemination. We were excited and hopeful as we drove up to the specialist’s office. A few days after the procedure we drove back up to see if it had been successful. We were ecstatic that my blood work showed that I was pregnant. Two days later, when blood was drawn again, that stinkin’ HCG level had not doubled. The specialist did an ultrasound that showed a tiny sac, but they couldn’t find a heartbeat. I was devastated as a second miscarriage is inevitable. The Lord is near to the brokenhearted And saves those who are crushed in spirit (Ps. 34:18). I was brokenhearted and God was near. As the water works began, the specialist remained hopeful; he said, “At least we know we can get you pregnant.” After another loss, I didn’t want to inseminate again.

       About a year later, we were excited to have my OBGYN confirm that we finally had our second child on the way. The doctor started me on baby aspirin and progesterone to attempt to prevent another miscarriage. She wanted to cover our bases. Just nine weeks into the pregnancy, I recognized the signs and called the doctor. Blood work and an ultrasound confirmed that we were losing our third baby. After this loss, I was tested for a few diseases and clotting disorders to attempt to find a cause for the losses. But everything was negative; we were at the same point as we were 7 years before. There was no rhyme or reason to our suffering. We desired answers, but none were given.

       Eight months later, I began orienting as a nurse in the NICU. I was fasting and praying; seeking the Lord about His plan for our family. During the fast, I discovered that I was once again with child. I was scared to get excited. It was difficult to believe. I could only pray, “Lord, help my unbelief and increase my faith.” During orientation, I had to go in for the constant blood work to determine if my HCG levels were increasing as they were supposed to. My obstetrician saw me frequently early. This time she went a step further with medication and she prescribed progesterone and Lovenox; I didn’t have a diagnosed clotting disorder, but she prescribed the Lovenox in hopes of preventing another loss. The precautions worked…nine months later, I was finally holding another beautiful baby girl. For this child we prayed, (and prayed, and prayed, and prayed…) and the Lord has given me my petition which I asked of Him (1 Sam. 1:27). Her middle name is Faith because after all that we went through, the Lord increased our faith.

       Two years later, we dreamed of having another child. My husband desired a son and we had always wanted a big family. With the previous challenges, we didn’t know what to expect this time around and the unexpected is what we received.

A short time after we began trying for our third child, I began to experience abdominal pain. I noticed it while pushing an isolette in the NICU. It was a sharp pain that didn’t last long. A couple of days later, I was standing outside of a restaurant, waiting for it to open. This time the pain was severe and I told Frank I needed to sit down on the step. After a few minutes, the pain subsided. A couple of days later, Frank was going on a field trip with Jocelyn, the 5-year-old. They were going to a pumpkin patch that was about 30 minutes away from our home. I told him that I may drive separately and bring Holly (she was 20-months-old).  However, I didn’t feel my best, so I had decided not to go. Frank called and asked if I was coming to meet them. When I said, that I wasn’t coming, he said that he and Jocelyn really wanted us to join them. So, I got the toddler ready and we headed that way.

Once we arrived, I spotted Jocelyn’s kindergarten class, excitedly walking through the patch of dusty, pumpkins. I put Holly in the stroller and headed that direction. Almost as soon as I caught up to them, I felt that excruciating pain. Only this time, it was more severe. I could barely walk and I couldn’t think because of the pain. I quickly diagnosed myself with a kidney stone. (As a nurse, I could self-diagnose and I had heard that kidney stones were extremely painful.) Never mind that I had never had kidney stones. I told Frank that I was in terrible pain and that I had to get out of there. It was the kind of pain that makes you irritable and sick. I wanted to get home to lay down and hold my abdomen and I wanted to get home fast. I asked him to load Holly into the car seat because I didn’t think I could do it. I was concerned about how I was going to get home and just felt so distracted by the immense pain. I prayed, but the pain wasn’t going anywhere this time. I remember sitting in the driver’s seat trying to determine how I was going to drive home. After a few minutes, Frank came up to the van and said he was going with me. I felt so bad because he had come on the field trip as a chaperone. Frank began driving and I laid back in the passenger seat. I was doubled over in writhing pain. I told Frank just to get me home. But he insisted on going to the ER. My mind was racing and I couldn’t think of and ER near. When we arrived, I realized we were at a hospital out of network and I felt terrible racking up an ER bill for a kidney stone!

By the time we arrived at the ER, I could barely stand. Walking was unbearable. I barely stood to sign in. Unfortunately, I still remember how mean the lady at the desk was. I was in the absolute worse pain of my entire life and she had zero compassion. And I still thought I was experiencing a kidney stone. Thankfully, they weren’t very busy and I was taken to a room. Frank and Holly were with me as the doctor asked questions and they drew my blood. The doctor asked if I was pregnant. To which I answered no; I didn’t have any signs of being pregnant, though we were trying. After the blood work was ran, the doctor came in and told us that I was pregnant. Despite the pain, we were ecstatic. Frank was grinning from ear to ear. I told the MD that we needed to contact my OBGYN to get the Lovenox and Progesterone started because of my previous miscarriages. I continued to wait to be treated for the kidney stone.

The doctor said he wanted to have them do an ultrasound to be sure everything was okay. That was my first indication that something could be wrong with the baby. A tech wheeled me down to the room and the ultrasound technician was abrupt and rude. Seriously? How could someone be so rude while caring for a person in extreme pain? Needless to say, the tech wasn’t gentle and this wasn’t at all like the first ultrasound that pregnant women looked forward to. I anxiously watched the screen. The tech said nothing as I struggled to find the sac. I couldn’t hear whoosh-whoosh sound of the heartbeat or see anything pulsing. The tech remained silent. When I returned to the room, I told Frank not to tell anyone that I was pregnant. Through tears I said, “I don’t know what it is, but something is wrong with the baby and that is what’s causing this pain.” I told Frank not to tell anyone about the baby…he had been so excited.

The doctor came in shortly after. With sorrow in his eyes, he said that the baby was ectopic and implanted in my tube. Shocked is an understatement. All I could say was, “I don’t have a single risk factor for that.” Sometimes, being in the medical field brings the rational out of a super emotional situation. Risk factors or not, I was being sent by ambulance to the hospital connected to my OBGYN’s office. On the ambulance, the paramedic asked if I understood that why I was going to the hospital and I explained my scenario. Then, he added…and your tube has ruptured. What!?! The doctor hadn’t told me that. I guess he couldn’t bear to give me any additional bad news. I immediately looked at the monitor see my blood pressure measurement. (It was being automatically checked every few minutes.) This was the first time that I realized I was bleeding internally and I had been bleeding for a long time by now. My number was low but normal for me. Be anxious for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all comprehension, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. I was overwhelmed by the peace of God and felt no fear during the ambulance ride. God allowed me to talk with the paramedics and to be filled with peace.

The ambulance flew and the doctor on call was already waiting at the hospital. I didn’t know if my husband would make it before surgery; he had to call my sister pick up our toddler. I arrived at the hospital and immediately the nurses began drawing my blood and prepping me for the OR. If the room would have been available, I would have been back in surgery prior to my husband or parents arriving. But by the grace of God, my family made it just in time for me to burst into tears before having both the baby and my tube removed.

The doctor was excellent and after saving my life she became my primary OBGYN. At my post op appointment we discussed our desire for another child and the struggle. She was very encouraging and said that we could try again. Honestly, I was so broken. I felt broken physically and emotionally. By this time, I had lost four babies and I didn’t think I could endure any more losses. My husband really wanted to try again, so we made a deal. I told him that I could give it six months and after that we would need to consider our family complete.

During the fifth month of trying, on Mother’s Day my pregnancy test was finally positive! I called the doctor and was once again, prescribed Lovenox injections. My OB also had me go to a higher risk obstetrician for the first few months. During the ultrasound, the tech asked if we wanted to know the sex of the baby. My husband said that he wanted to see if he could determine when she brought the area into view. As soon as my husband looked at the screen he exclaimed, “It’s a boy, isn’t it!?!” And in December we were blessed with a healthy baby boy. His middle name is Matthew, which means Gift of God. We have experienced great loss and pain. Yet, our pain is nothing in comparison to God’s immeasurable love and amazing gifts. Every good thing given and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation or shifting shadow (James 1:17).

I know that many of you (and others) have suffered as much or more than we have through the process of growing our family. I’m so sorry for any loss you’ve experienced. I hope that by sharing our journey, others will be encouraged to trust God through the difficulty. Also, if you’re experiencing loss, share with others and allow others to pray for you.

If you would like to know how to pray regarding miscarriage, here is a post with some specific ways to pray. https://prayforeverything.com/miscarriage-prayers/