Dear Mothers Who Have Miscarried,
I’ve lost two, and it’s near torn me apart, this longing to be in heaven with my babies, but I’ve learned the secret to staying on earth.
I learned the secret, just weeks ago, and I want to share it here with you, if I may?
It was December, a cold afternoon and I was meeting in a church with a prayer team. They asked me about the babies I’d lost and I wept so hard I couldn’t speak because this past spring, God had told me my Madeleine would live. And then she’d died. He’d told me about her personality, and then she’d slid from my body, and I gave birth to Stillborn Faith that day.
I’ve been grieving ever since and sometimes it’s just a white lace shoe that undoes me. Or a pink dress. Or the sight of a woman’s rounded womb.
And I met with the prayer team and they prayed over me, that the Grief would end. I nodded tearfully.
Following the prayer, one of the women pulled me aside and told me she’d heard a pastor speak once, on miscarried and aborted babies, and that this pastor had received a vision of a nursery in heaven.
In this vision, the pastor saw a nursery filled with miscarried and aborted babies, angels watching over them, and upon reaching heaven, mothers who’d lost their babies would be given a second chance to raise them.
Now, friends, I don’t know that there’s anything in Scripture that talks about a nursery in heaven but I also know that heaven is mysterious and unfathomable and eternal, and that a nursery is something akin to the loving character of God the Father. He may just give us a second chance to raise our babies.
I breathed long and hard and fast after she told me this. Because if this nursery does exist, then suddenly God’s words to me in the spring made sense: his words saying that my baby would live (even though on earth, she died); his words describing her personality, as though she were already alive.
Because no life is lost to Jesus.
The night I lost my first child, I had a dream, even as I slept: a little girl with golden curls sat outside my bedroom door playing with toys, and when she looked at me, she had her father’s eyes. And then I looked down at my arms and there was a little boy asleep in them, but I couldn’t see his face.
If this nursery exists, that dream was of my daughter, playing in heaven (and the baby in my arms? My eldest son, who was conceived months later).
And my daughter’s waiting for me–even as your children are waiting for you.13 For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. 14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. 15 My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. 16 Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. (Psalm 139)
Our God does not lie.
If he’s told you that your baby lives? She does. Maybe not on earth. But nothing can separate us from the love of God–not even death, Romans 8 tells us.
May you be filled with hope. This world is not all there is.