Miscarriage
If I close my eyes, even 46 years later, I can still hear the voice of the nurse over the many other noises in that clinic: your baby is dead!
We had arrived in Cali, Colombia, with grandma pregnant with baby number 2. She had a miscarriage about year before, and she was eager to see God supply. But, not long after arrival in Colombia, she began to bleed.
Close Dr friend, colleague and head of the mission clinic/hospital, had set us up with a local obstetrician. When she began to bleed, our colleague suggested that she come into the clinic and rest, as the obstetrician was not available.
It was long day of observation and waiting. Neither of us where proficient in Spanish as yet. Though mine was better than hers.
Towards the end of the day, the nursing staff were in the room and talking seriously to me. I thought that I understood, but didn’t want to pass on wrong information to grandma. She was frustrated, beginning to cry and demanding to know what they were saying.
Finally, the nurse, undoubtedly frustrated with us blurted out loud for all to hear, in Spanish, the baby is dead!!!
Needless to say, this began moments of deep sadness and pain. All made more difficult by the fact that family was thousands of miles away. If fact, it took a day or two to even get them on the phone!!
What was God allowing? He knows. We can wonder and can even speculate. But, He knows and cares.
At the very least we know these two things. Out of the depths of this loss, the moment for Lynette to become a part of our family was born. Loss and gain were the two sides to God’s sovereign love.
Two, whoever that child was, girl or boy, we will see them again in heaven!!