Life and Loss: At Home in the Heart of Christ
Our experiences growing our family have not been simple and straightforward.
I have had two heartbreaking pregnancy losses, the most recent one in March. I have had a rare, life-threatening pregnancy complication that landed me in the hospital for three weeks over Christmas awaiting Henry’s birth. I went into labor with Noah five weeks early for no discernible reason, followed by two weeks of driving between our newborn in the NICU and our toddler at home. Even our most by-the-book pregnancy—our first one with Sam—started off with being told at our first appointment that we were having a miscarriage, marking the start of a long, not-yet-won struggle with persistent anxiety during my pregnancies.
Women in the Church are often told that we have been given a precious gift, a sacred invitation—we get to participate with our Creator in the giving and nurturing of life. And that is gloriously true.
But this emphasis, on its own, can make it difficult for those of us who have stories of building a family that are marked not just by life, but also by loss or trauma, to figure out where our stories fit in this narrative. If life is the gift, then what do we make of our loss? It’s hard not to conclude, as the psalmist did, “Has God forgotten to be gracious?”
I am slowly wrapping my head around this: Those of us who have experienced loss where we had hoped for life have also been offered a precious gift, a sacred invitation. We get to participate with our crucified Savior in his sufferings. It is painful, but it is no less glorious.
Jesus’s life, death, and resurrection have redeemed all that is unwanted, feels out of place, and seems irredeemable. In Phil. 3, Paul explains that by “sharing in his sufferings” we may “know him and the power of his resurrection.” In the midst of suffering, we receive the sustaining gift of Christ himself.
Life and loss both have a place in the grand narrative of the redemption and restoration of all things because our Redeemer and Restorer is both the Source of Life and the Man of Sorrows. Our stories may not find a footing in the narratives of this world, but they are forever at home in the heart of Christ.