Strength in the Sorrow: Psalm 37:23-24
God’s Word is sufficient for our every need, even those that follow the heartbreaking loss of a child. In this series, Hope Moms share about the way God, through His life-giving Word, has provided them with the strength, comfort, encouragement, and hope they needed as they walk through the valley of loss and grief.
“My soul melts away for sorrow; strengthen me according to Your word!” Psalm 119:28
“The Lord makes firm the steps of the one who delights in Him; though he may stumble, he will not fall, for the Lord upholds him with His hand.” Psalms 37:23-24
Anger coursed through me as I paced back and forth in the exam room. I couldn’t sit in a chair or on the table. It was incomprehensible that it was happening again. Another loss. Our third in 15 months. I had spent the last three weeks in misery with constant nausea and reflux, but certain that the sickness and fatigue—so similar to the healthy full-term pregnancy I’d had with my daughter three years prior—were confirmation that this pregnancy was going to stick. But I was wrong. The eight-week ultrasound showed no heartbeat, and the baby was measuring a week behind.
The midwife wouldn’t call it a miscarriage that day and scheduled a follow-up for later in the week. I knew what was happening though, because it had happened before. We still prayed for a miracle, and I dispelled my anger and dug deep for hope. But by the end of the week, our loss was confirmed. I was confused and hurt and hopeless. I wanted another baby, but I didn’t want to try again. I didn’t want to wait for the first ultrasound again. Having another child felt like going to the moon.
Since we’d had three confirmed losses, we were able to see a fertility specialist. I prepared for that appointment as if I were interviewing for my dream job. I kept a food diary, wrote out pages of questions, scoured patient portals for old lab results, and searched my memory for details of our pregnancies and losses, wanting to give the specialist every shred of information I could so he would be able to tell me what to fix, what to change, what to do to get pregnant and stay pregnant.
Instead, he told me my eggs were probably old.
He delivered his hypothesis with gentleness and kindness and recommended we still do our due diligence through bloodwork and diagnostic imaging. I left his office with a stack of lab and imaging orders, but also with destroyed hope. He was a revered professional in his field and one of the founding doctors of the clinic. If he thought my eggs were old, they likely were.
I wept for days and grieved the loss of my fundamental female ability. My husband and I had decided we would not try to conceive again unless we could identify and then rule out some obscure hormonal or structural issue—we needed a guarantee, or at least something close to a guarantee. We couldn’t take another round of trying and waiting and losing. Having another baby hinged on what we would learn through the clinic’s orders. If nothing was uncovered—if my eggs really were just old—we were done. The idea of that finality broke my heart anew.
When we met with the specialist, our most recent miscarriage was still fresh, and I couldn’t schedule any labs or imaging until I’d had a normal cycle. It was another six weeks before my body got back on track. It doesn’t seem like a very long time, but when you’re waiting to learn if growing your family naturally is a possibility, it is tortuous.
During that wait, however, I found Psalms 37:23-24 and began to pray it daily, more than daily. I whispered it whenever I began to ponder the different outcomes. The road before us was paved with dependencies—certain lab results would mean one thing and lead to another set of labs, and certain imaging had to be performed before another type of imaging. It was dizzying. And the worst part was the waiting. Patience has never been my strong suit. Make my steps firm, Lord.
That season, and that simple, five-word prayer, birthed in me a trust I hadn’t known before. I had zero control, but my loving, faithful, good heavenly Father had all the control. Soon my simple prayer grew to include the phrase, Your will be done. That’s a prayer I had never been comfortable praying because I wanted my will. I didn’t want to “give God permission” to tell me no. But God was showing me that whatever His plans were, they were going to be good. I could place my hand in His and know in my bones that He would hold me up, even if I stumbled, even if my heart was broken again.
Turns out my eggs weren’t old. I had two fibroid tumors impinging on my uterus and preventing proper implantation and embryo growth. It took an ultrasound, dye X-ray, exploratory surgery, MRI, and many weeks of waiting to figure that out. The solution was major abdominal surgery. A four-inch incision at my bikini line would be made, my organs would be moved around a bit, and the tumors would be cut away from my uterus. But then, after two months of recovery, we could start trying to conceive, knowing the hurdle to a healthy pregnancy had been removed.
Four days after the surgery, my fertility specialist called to tell me he’d found cancer cells. I saw an oncologist about ten days later and was diagnosed with Endometrial Stromal Sarcoma. It is a rare uterine cancer that can be very aggressive and unpredictable if left unchecked. The required treatment was a total hysterectomy. I was 36. It was the exact opposite of the outcome we had hoped for. Instead of going on to have a full-term pregnancy I was going to become as infertile as possible. Any hope of another biological baby was going to be cut out of me.
I won’t sugarcoat this and say that I accepted it with grace. I didn’t. Or that gratitude for my life being saved covered over all the pain. It didn’t. I ugly cried every day. I felt envy like heartburn every time I saw a swollen belly or a family with two, three, or four children. Why not me, Lord? I grieved fresh for the babies we had lost—the babies who just couldn’t thrive because of the growth lurking in my womb.
But over time, the trust that God had established with me in the waiting buoyed me again. I didn’t know why any of our hardships—the pregnancy losses or the cancer—had occurred. But I did know the author and finisher of my faith, and He was good. All the time.
- Rachel Hayes
Hope Mom to Hope, August, Violet, and Theodore
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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