I live in the Midwestern part of the United States. We often have an unofficial season called “second winter”. This occurs when all the snow has finally melted, the warm temperatures have hung around and nature is slowly beginning to arise. Then suddenly, we get two feet of snow, freezing temps and all those winter clothes we cautiously put away are drug back out. 

 

In November of 2017, we experienced our first pregnancy loss. Without a doubt, it was one of the hardest things physically, emotionally, spiritually, mentally I had ever dealt with. Everything I believed was rocked to the core. That one event was the catalyst for a complete stripping down of who I was, what I thought I knew and who I thought God was. 

 

After four or five months, I slowly began healing. I smiled a little bit more. Began to lift my eyes to the One who never left me, no matter how much I doubted Him. My heart was beginning to thaw. 

 

Then second winter came. 

 

April of 2018, our second sweet babe was born heaven side. 

 

I wasn’t even crushed. I was numb. 

 

How could this happen again? 

 

What of the promise to a teenage girl from a Holy God that someday I’d have a daughter? 

 

Had He forgotten or changed His mind? 

 

A little over a month later, when every other door to motherhood was closed and my heart had resigned to a childless life, a sweet, long awaited answer to prayer was made known. 

 

Now a mother to a wild, gorgeous, clever, witty, long legged, curly haired, incredible girl, I see that God had a plan through all of that. 

 

Do I believe that He caused those pregnancy losses? 

 

Absolutely not. 

 

Do I believe He was the One who carried me each day? Giving me strength to get up, get moving and keep living? 

 

Absolutely yes. 

 

When I look at Romans 5:3-5, I see how God uses even the most terrible thing for His glory and our good. 

 

Let’s read:

 

“Not only that, but we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us.” 

 

I know many parents who never experienced a pregnancy loss who love their children fully and deeply and with their whole being. 

 

But there’s something about those parents that hold both heartache and promises fulfilled. The ones who long for Heaven and to be reunited with that child they barely got to know while being present with the child they have the privilege to raise. 

 

Or the person who never got their “happy ending”. Who never got to be called “Mom” or “Dad”. Although their life may be fulfilling, they still hold a space for a child never to be. 

 

Somehow, in the midst of all of that, God uses that suffering to create endurance to face even the worst storms. And to walk others through theirs. I cannot count how many women reached out to me after their own pregnancy losses to ask for comfort, encouragement, advice. Had I not experienced it myself, I would not have had the chance to be a comfort to someone else when they needed it; to let them know that they are not alone. 

 

We can never know how sweet joy, peace and goodness are without the taste of bitterness, despair and heartache in our memory. 

 

We can not fully appreciate the beauty of a warm spring day without surviving the harsh cold of winter. 

 

We can not see the fullness of the grace of God without seeing the depths of our sin and death. 

 

May the God of all comfort produce endurance, character and hope in your heart, planting a seed of His peace in your life that will grow into the strongest and most beautiful tree.