Trying to Conceive After Loss

Each child gone ahead from among us is a precious person made in the image of God—and all having been made into Hope Moms, we together declare motherhood in each of our journeys. Through this series, we honor each other’s experiences of motherhood in love through our shared God of hope.

---

“Hasten to answer me, Lord; for my spirit fails me. Do not hide your face from me, lest I become like those descending to the pit. In the morning let me hear of your mercy, for in you I trust. Show me the path I should walk, for I entrust my life to you.” Psalm 143:7-8

Trust. Such a simple word, and yet such a complex process. The journey of trying to conceive again after losing our firstborn has not been easy. It has been marked with more highs and lows than I even knew possible. But the moments when I surrendered my heart and weakly pledged to God that “I entrusted my life” to Him were the moments when true peace came (Ps. 143:8). 

We tried to get pregnant for almost a year with our first, our Hope Baby, Paige. As we were grieving her loss and praying about when to start trying again for our next blessing, my husband and I truly thought God would give us a merciful short wait for that next positive pregnancy test once we started trying again. Ashamedly, I admit that I felt like He “owed” it to us after the pain of coming so close to having a child in our arms. But He didn’t. He owes us absolutely nothing. He has already given us everything in His Son, and we, on our own, are so undeserving. I quickly learned that He wouldn’t answer our prayer for a new blessing before it was in His very own perfect timing. Only He knows the whole story surrounding our past pain, present longing, and future joy. 

I found myself living life in two-week segments. Two weeks and then we could try again, two more weeks and we could take a test to see if we were finally pregnant. Month after month, the answer was still “not yet.” The waiting alone was trying enough, but mixing in the heaviness of the wait with the ache to feel life inside of me again lead to overwhelming anxiety, fear, and jealousy. 

What if we conceive another child, only to lose that one too? Could we really go through that pain again? What if God chooses to not bless us with another child? What then? And simultaneously, the pregnancy announcements from friends and family continued to pour in over those months of praying and trying. It seemed so effortless for so many people. Healthy babies were born while we were still waiting, and I couldn’t help but feel broken. Why couldn’t I do what God created my body to do?

I quickly became wrapped up in my own emotions, worries, and woes. I couldn’t see past the brokenness and impatience that I felt. That very same low moment, though, was what finally caused me to drop to my knees at the feet of Jesus. In my weakness, I knew I couldn’t keep trying to walk this path, solve the brokenness, or hasten the wait on my own. Not surprisingly, our faithful Father was there, waiting with open arms to catch me as I fell, exhausted and hurting, in front of Him. 

Over and over again, in so many different ways, He kept reminding me of how much He loved me. He reminded me that He understood my pain and that He wanted what was best for me. He made sure I knew that I wasn’t a broken, inadequate vessel—I was His child, created perfectly in His own image. 

“Trust me more than what you can see,” was the message that He whispered to my heart time and time again as I struggled with fear and impatience over those very long months. I couldn’t see what He had planned for us. I couldn’t see why everything seemed to line up perfectly one month and yet the test was still negative. I couldn’t understand why my arms were still empty when He had placed such a desire for motherhood on my heart. I couldn’t see if a subsequent pregnancy would end in loss too. But God could see it all. And He wanted me to trust in that, to trust in Him alone. 

“Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name: you are mine. When you pass through waters, I will be with you; through rivers, you shall not be swept away. When you walk through fire, you shall not be burned, nor will flames consume you.” Isaiah 43:1b-2

When I started to trust God more than the circumstances that I could see in front of me, I was able to wait a little bit more patiently and with a little bit more hope and peace. I realized that God wanted nothing but His best for me. Every month, as we approached that two-week wait before I could take a pregnancy test, I visualized God already there in that moment. He was already there holding my hand as I looked down at that test. He was already there ready to catch my tears yet again, or, just maybe, He was there ready to celebrate with me with an overwhelmingly joyful “yes.” Either way, He was already there, and I could trust in that more than anything else. 

The journey of trying to conceive after losing Paige has been so very difficult, but it has drawn me even closer to our loving Father. It has been a season mixed with grieving what we almost had and trusting God with what is to come. But it has also been a season of restoration and healing as I have learned to trust God more than ever before. Much like God restored Jerusalem, He is restoring my heart one step at a time. One day at a time, I choose to trust Him more than what I can see. 

“Look! I am bringing the city recovery and healing; I will heal them and reveal to them an abundance of lasting peace.” Jeremiah 33:6

---

Anna lives in Houston, TX and is a wife to Brendan, mom to hope baby Paige, and preschool teacher to a room full of four-year-olds. She finds joy in traveling with her husband, reading two or three books at a time, and sipping a strong cup of coffee at any local coffee shop. “Choose Hope” is Anna’s motto to live by, and she finds her daily strength through God’s Word and faithfulness.

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.

---

---