Laura’s Story
I was dizzyingly happy to be having identical twins! That highly improbable surprise felt like a special gift from the Lord. Then, just after the babies reached 16 weeks gestation, my doctor detected signs of a rare disease called TTTS—Twin to Twin Transfusion Syndrome. Our sweet boys had begun growing at noticeably different rates. Both were in danger as a result. My husband and I quickly arranged for travel to the nearest hospital specializing in TTTS treatment (and for family to come stay with our two living children). We had no idea how long we might be away, but Day 1 would be a series of tests, starting with the echocardiogram to see into the babies’ hearts.
The technician began scanning, then prodding, and before I knew it she had jogged out of the room murmuring about needing some help. My husband and I exchanged confused glances and tried not to worry. An eternity later, a different woman strode briskly through the doorway and spoke the words we had not even begun yet to fear: No heartbeats.
In that moment I could not even wrap my mind around the possibility that God would let us lose our beloved boys. We had already experienced the terrible journey of a miscarriage several years earlier (baby was around 5 weeks). The resulting heartbreak and grief had been hard, but we felt we had made it through the worst, and God had graciously granted us a new blessing in our daughter’s birth two years later. Surely He would not follow up that redemptive gift with a double loss now, when these babies were already so much further along? Firmly, I set my mind on praying for and expecting a miracle of healing for them both. The hospital agreed to give us an ultrasound as a second look.
While they prepared the room, my husband and I waited and sobbed. I knew in my heart that in moments of suffering, those of us who follow Jesus are called to worship. “Midnight worship,” my pastor calls it, because of Paul and Silas’ experience worshipping God at midnight in jail. I searched my mind for a worship song, and up came one I’d learned in my junior high youth group.
Blessed be your name when I’m found in the desert place, though I walk through the wilderness, blessed be your name.
Blessed be your name on the road marked with suffering, though there’s pain in the offering, blessed be your name.
Every blessing you pour out I’ll turn back to praise, when the darkness closes in Lord still I will say, Blessed be your name…
Tremblingly we sang it, choking out words, sometimes barely a whisper escaping our lips…and we waited.
Though the kind and gentle doctor scanned a longer time, he confirmed that neither heart was beating…at least, “not enough to sustain life.” One baby’s heart was faintly, slowly beating. For a moment we dared to hope, but the doctor explained that the larger twin was just taking longer…to pass away.
I will never forget the feeling of disappointment and abandonment by God when I realized He was not going to do a miracle. Did God not love me after all? Why would He give—two!—only to take them both away?? Even as I had that thought, I remembered the bridge of the song we had just sung: “You give and take away, you give and take away, my heart will choose to say, Lord blessed be your name.” I knew that line came from the book of Job after Job lost all his children in one fell swoop. If Job could praise God amid his desolation, surely I could choose to do the same.
Once home, I gathered up the tattered shards of my faith and rallied to pray again. I reasoned that the babies were still inside me, and God had resurrection power! I begged the Lord to raise the twins to life “on the third day,” like He did for His own beloved Son. I was willing to look foolish if it meant God would answer my impossible prayer. We called upon our community to pray once more, and I felt torn between grief and hope as I waited for one final ultrasound Friday.
Friday dawned and one last time, my husband and I gazed at our perfect, motionless babies on the screen. We bowed our heads. They were gone. I agreed to be induced that morning to labor and deliver our sleeping sons. Just before midnight, I gave birth to our sweet Samuel and Elijah. I had been nervous about meeting them, seeing them, and what they might look like. My heart was instantly filled with love when I saw them. I marveled at their perfect features, fingers, and toes. They were so handsome, and we could see their older brother in their faces. We held them in tiny, knitted “Moses baskets,” rocked them in our arms, and cherished each minute together. The next day, we took the slow steps out of the hospital room, holding a white wooden box of keepsakes instead of our two baby boys.
This journey of baby loss has been the hardest of my life, but I have clung to God at every step of it because He has proven to me over and over again that He is faithful. Though God did not spare me from deep pain as I once naively expected, I truly believe that He is able, and He is good. He is worthy of my trust. He weeps with us in our sorrows and never wastes a moment of our pain.
A precious lesson the Lord taught me in my grief is to look for His hidden mercies, even within the moments that felt most cruel and hard. The fact that we did not even get past the testing phase, let alone get to try the surgical treatment we’d hoped for, was deeply disappointing. However, this meant I went home and my own OB was able to deliver my twins. It also meant that I did not have the compounded hardship of grieving while recovering from major abdominal surgery in an unfamiliar, out-of-state hospital. I am thankful for those mercies. It felt cruel at the time to still have to labor and deliver my babies when their spirits were already gone. Yet, I had never had the chance to meet the baby from my first miscarriage. After that weekend when I delivered the twins, I found myself thanking God with tears for the chance this time to behold and hold my precious babies, even for a short time. What a mercy that was, too.
A verse from Scripture that speaks of God’s redemption amidst our sorrows is Psalm 126:5. “Those who sow in tears shall reap with shouts of joy!” While the world grieves without hope, we as believers in Jesus have been given not only the incredible hope of heaven—where we will be with our Lord and our babies—but also a living hope here on earth where His Spirit allows us access into His storehouse of love and patience, peace and joy. The psalmist proclaimed to God, “in your presence there is fullness of joy” (Psalm 16:110). I have found that this joy can be experienced through my trusting surrender to God’s will and path for me, drawing near to Him in all my tears as well as my determined worship. Though a watching world may scratch its head, we are His beloved children and the sheep of His pasture. We can, and must, walk the journey of our deepest griefs hand in hand with our good Father and good Shepherd. He can be trusted, and in His presence we will find joy again.
- Laura
Hope Mom to Samuel and Elijah, and Baby Jean
Laura founded Youtube channel Defiant Joy to encourage and minister to other women who have experienced miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss, and to help those who want to understand and come alongside them in that journey. Videos include her stories of hope babies Baby Jean and the twins Samuel and Elijah, and reflections on grieving with hope, seeking Jesus for healing—even joy—amid the grief journey. She is grateful to live in Nashville, TN, with her husband and their two children. Find her channel here: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCV8Iv15gLrrh5ImQMzrLqKw.
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