Somewhere Over the Rainbow

We lost another baby last week.

One day, we were finding out that our rainbow baby was on the way and sending pictures to family of our littles holding a colorful spectrum of balloons. The very next day, it was clear that our baby was already gone. Our third loss in a year; our fourth in six years (1 2 3). We've never lost a baby so early, and it's left us with more questions than answers. There are still half-deflated balloons floating through my house, painful reminders of our brief moment of joyful expectation. Helium balloons are such a rarity in our household that I couldn't bear to take them away from my eager children, and it's not as though my grief would disappear if they did. We now have two "due dates" in 2020, and neither of them will bring the rainbow babies we'd prayed for and rejoiced over.

I want to understand God's plan through this season of loss. But God doesn't promise to explain His ways. He has promised that He has everything in hand, and that all things work for good for His people.

I want to believe that we'll have another healthy baby. But God hasn't promised me that every earthly desire will be granted, even if it's a "good" desire. He has promised that He has a specific plan for my life, and He will richly provide for every true need.

I want the hurt to stop. But God doesn't promise us a pain-free life on this earth -- on the contrary, He tells us to expect and even embrace suffering. In fact, my suffering isn't "all about me." He has promised that suffering is not wasted, that He will use my suffering to encourage others, and that one day all pain will cease. I won't grieve for eternity.


The pain of losing half of my children to miscarriage has driven me to Jesus in ways I never could have understood when life was "easy," and I know that He holds me close as I wrestle with grief and surrender. As Thomas Case wrote, "In the Word we do but hear of God—in affliction we see Him."

I think of the Old Testament saints, who "all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland...But as it is, they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for He has prepared for them a city." (Heb. 11:13-14, 16) These believers recognized that there was more to look forward to than comfort and happiness in this life. They may have stumbled along the way, but by God's grace they fixed their eyes on the goal and finished the race set before them (Heb. 12:1-2).

One day, grief will give way to glory. For now, it's a day by day (and even moment by moment) challenge to focus on that finish line, looking to a Savior who endured more than I can imagine to save me from the fate I deserved. By His grace we mourn, and by His grace we carry on.