It Is Well, Even When It Isn’t

I was pregnant for the fourth time in under three years. I’d had a chemical pregnancy, then I had my daughter, Lily, then I had a miscarriage. It was the day of my six-week appointment. I spent the morning daydreaming about being in that darkened ultrasound room, holding my husband’s hand, and seeing the rapid flutter of our healthy baby’s heartbeat on the sonographer’s screen. 

Then there was blood. Not a lot, but not none. 

I placed 18-month-old Lily in her highchair with her milk and lunch and began circling the kitchen island praying fervently, almost chanting, for all to be well. My husband came home from work and held me while I sobbed and continued praying for the health of our baby. 

We went to the appointment and held hands in the dim room as planned. But when the sonographer found the heartbeat, it wasn’t the rapid flutter I had been visualizing. I knew it was slow, and the midwife confirmed it. 

“I’ve seen plenty of these turn out perfectly fine,” she said. “Keep your eight-week appointment and we’ll see.”

We’ll see. That was the answer someone gave when the odds were against me getting what I wanted. I’d given it to others myself when I knew the fulfillment of their request was unlikely. 

I kept waiting for the midwife to say something more, something reassuring about the heartbeat, but she just stood there, silent. She told us our baby had a weak heartbeat and gave us no reason to hope it would turn out well. 

I had started that day like a birthday balloon, plump with hope, and by the afternoon I was deflated, wrinkled, and lifeless. 

The next appointment was two weeks away, and I knew from our past experiences that our world could be turned upside down and inside out in that span of time. It was, without any shadow of comparison, the longest two weeks of my life. My prayers were desperate, ragged, and yielded only temporary comfort.

On a Saturday afternoon, while my husband and daughter played in the backyard and I did dishes, the song “It Is Well” by Bethel and Kristene DiMarco came on. 

Grander earth has quaked before
Moved by the sound of His voice
Seas that are shaken and stirred
Can be calmed and broken for my regard
And through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
And through it all, through it all
It is well…

And far be it from me to not believe
Even when my eyes can’t see
And this mountain that’s in front of me
Will be thrown into the midst of the sea
And through it all, through it all
My eyes are on You
And through it all, through it all
It is well…

As I listened to the choruses, I was reminded that God uses hardship to refine us, to teach us, to make us more like Him. I began to weep and praise God. I could palpably feel His strength, which is made perfect in our weakness, settling over me like a blanket. 

So let go my soul and trust in Him
The waves and wind still know His name…
It is well
With my soul…

Then, after the bridge and as the words, “It is well with my soul” were repeated over and over at the end of the song, I closed the dishwasher, fell to my knees, and cried out to God. I knew in that moment that He was so capable, so loving, and so wise. I could trust Him with my situation—not that He would give me what I wanted, which was a thumping heartbeat and a glowing report from the doctor the next week, but that no matter what occurred, it was indeed well with my soul. Whatever happened at our eight-week appointment, or before, He was going to work it for my good (Romans 8:28). I could never have reconciled myself to such a thought by my own strength or wisdom. What I experienced that afternoon was the peace of God, the peace of Philippians 4:7 “that transcends all understanding.” 

Over the next several days, I listened to that song whenever I got shaky, and it reset my anchor every time. When I grew anxious, I took my thoughts captive and prayed. Instead of searching message boards for reassurance, I sought the presence of my heavenly Father. At our eight-week appointment there was no heartbeat at all. It was our second miscarriage in six months, and it unraveled me in a way our first losses had not. But I held to the promises that all was well with my soul and that He was working all things for my good. 

Shortly after our loss, I read in a devotional the origin story of the original hymn “It Is Well With My Soul” by Horatio Spafford. He was a successful American lawyer, but misfortune followed him. He lost his son and real estate wealth in short order, but his suffering culminated when the ship carrying his wife and four daughters to Europe sank. His wife sent a message to him that simply read, “Saved alone.” On his voyage to meet her, he wrote the hymn. 

When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.

I held to Spafford’s story and the lyrics of those songs through the next year’s struggles to get pregnant and through another miscarriage. Both have taught me that God is the same whether things are going well or falling apart— Whatever my lot, thou hast taught me to say, It is well, it is well with my soul. In every circumstance, He remains the same and His purposes reach far beyond my plans and wants. Earth is not heaven, so why would I expect it to be perfect and pain-free? But heaven is perfect, and my babies are there. Yours are, too, sweet mama.

If we believe in Jesus and what He’s done for us, then our sin is nailed to the cross and our names are written in the Book of Life. It is well with our souls, and we can rejoice in the hope of heaven and look forward to the day that we are embraced by Jesus and can embrace the children who have gone before us.  

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Rachel lives in Austin, Texas with her husband and daughter and has four babies in heaven. She has completed a memoir about her experiences with pregnancy and fertility loss, and hopes to publish it in 2021. Connect with Rachel or learn more at RachelDawnHayes.com.

We would be honored to share your story as a Hope Mom on our blog. On Saturdays we feature Hope Moms’ stories in order to showcase God’s faithfulness even in the midst of such deep sorrow. If you would like to have your story shared on our blog for this purpose, learn more and submit here.

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