The first signs of the impending miscarriage of my third baby happened at a Christian conference. While I sang praises to my God, I felt the familiar shift of hormones that occurs when a woman goes from pregnant to pregnancy loss in a matter of hours. John Piper stood on stage speaking of the “secret things” that belong to the Lord – secret things like why I was losing yet another baby.
Recurrent Pregnancy Loss was the diagnosis. Add a layer of childlessness and you get a heart that’s sick with grief. I wasn’t actually childless. I had children. I just never got to hold or know or kiss them. And yet, my life looked no different from the outside. Was I barren? Hmm, I’m not sure. It felt like barrenness at times. More than that, it felt like death had a grip on my womb – as though the place meant to nourish a child had become a place where unborn babies go to die. That took a toll on me.
Mistaken Identity
Somewhere between my second and third loss, I’d surrendered to the idea that my body just couldn’t sustain a pregnancy, that I wasn’t like most women to whom babies seemed to come easily. I felt like my body had betrayed me. Worse than that, it had betrayed my babies.
In the Christian culture, motherhood is often lifted up as the highest calling for women. It’s easy to see why we might be tempted to place our identity in our fertility. We might become “the barren one” if we battle infertility, or “Fertile Myrtle” if we have no trouble bearing children. But what happens when God gives the gift of motherhood only to take it away over and over again? What happens when baby after baby slips from your womb – when you feel like a mom, but don’t get to live it out?
If we’re not careful, we can start to think of ourselves as “The Woman Who Miscarries.” We might begin to live life as though that’s who we are at our core.
Truly, none of us should place our identity in motherhood or fertility, regardless of our ability to get pregnant or carry a pregnancy to term. These mistaken identities only lead to confusion, heartache, and shame.
Who You Really Are
“There’s more to your story than miscarriages.”
When my friend spoke those words, my heart first recognized the weight of living under a false identity. Without realizing it, I had begun to believe the lie that I was “The Woman Who Miscarries.” Have you been believing this lie too? It’s easy to do so when you’re in a prolonged season of suffering. But friend, there’s so much more to your story than miscarriage.
If you are in Christ, your life is hidden in Him!
For you have died, and your life is hidden with Christ in God (Colossians 3:3).
You are chosen, adopted, made holy, made new, redeemed, forgiven, sealed with the Holy Spirit, and alive in Christ (Ephesians 1:4-7, 13; 2:4; 2 Corinthians 5:17). You’ve been given an inheritance, a secure hope. God has lavished his grace on you (Ephesians 1:8-14).
This is who you are, friend. There’s so much more to your story than miscarriage.
Secure in Christ
Knowing our identity is in Christ doesn’t take away our pain. It doesn’t mean we won’t weep when the dreaded monthly reminder of our empty womb comes or that we won’t feel our heart hit the floor at the next pregnancy announcement. But it will remind us that no matter what happens to us, our feet are grounded and our hope is secure in Christ.
We may lose much in this world, but our inheritance is fiercely protected by a good God. Nothing can steal it from us.
The LORD is my chosen portion and my cup;
you hold my lot. The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places;
indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance. I bless the LORD who gives me counsel;
in the night also my heart instructs me. I have set the LORD always before me;
because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.
~ Psalm 16:5-8
-- Brittany Allen @brittanyleeallen
Brittany is a follower of Christ, wife to James, and mom to Theo as well as three babies in Heaven. She exists to bring God glory and prays her writing is an avenue for that. She longs to help other women see Jesus as their ultimate treasure. Find her writing at https://brittleeallen.com.
