Editor’s Note: This blog entry was first written on May 7, 2012 and published by the Family Policy Council of WV. While written in the present two years ago about news I and my wife received on May 5, 2012, it is no less relevant and heartfelt today. For us, May 5th is a day we mark as a family, not in anger or depression, but in solemn hope. For all those who have trusted their Creator through the loss of a miscarriage, we republish this article to encourage you. For those considering an intentional miscarriage by means of an abortion, my wife and I beg you to reconsider. By the way, as an update to this story, a few months after our miscarriage, my wife and I welcomed the news that we were expecting another boy. God turned our sorrow into great joy with the arrival of our son 13+ months ago, almost exactly one year after our miscarriage.
By Jeremiah G. Dys., Esq.
My wife and I are unashamedly, politically pro-life. We came to that conviction by logic, experience, and, most importantly, a theology that teaches that Christ, our Creator, creates every human life with dignity that is to be respected from the moment of conception to natural death.
If you attended the 2012 Gubernatorial Prayer Breakfast, you heard me announce that my wife and I were anticipating the arrival of our 4th child. Unfortunately, over the weekend, my wife and I lost our child to a miscarriage.
In writing this post, I run the risk of pandering for political gain or of becoming unnecessarily melodramatic. The former is simply not true and, I trust, if the latter be true, you will forgive me as one tinted by such pain. We believe that we lost a child. That loss is real. That loss hurts.
We are, of course, not alone. In fact, statistically speaking, we are right on par: 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage. This was our 4th pregnancy. I am thankful, in a sense, that God has kindly given us this experience in which we may now empathize more dearly with those who have or will miscarry.
And, without a doubt, this was our child. By that, I mean, it was a child. In all likelihood, this miscarriage was simply due to the fact that the embryo failed to implant. Nonetheless, he or she had all the DNA he or she was going to have. It was my son or daughter. This was not a glob of cells and clearly not something to be cooly excised. It was my child.
The process has moved me. For me, it was a silent experience; for my wife, more painful. Now that her physical pain has lessened, I can say that it has been a pleasure to serve my wife through this ordeal. In that, it is proved what we often say that being pro-life is about more than a baby. It’s about a family. First, it was about a marriage. I believe that my wife and I, through marriage, become one-flesh. When she hurts, I hurt. God is kind to allow us to experience such things in the comfort of the marital union. His wisdom of uniting one man to one woman into one-flesh is tremendous and something to be trusted individually, encouraged by all, and celebrated publicly.
But, also, we have 3 sons who are 6, 4, and 19 months old. They had rejoiced with us just a week ago at the prospect of becoming big brothers. My exuberant 4-year old excitedly announced to everyone he met, “Mommy’s going to have a baby!” Tonight, I’ll look into his blue eyes and tell him, “Not yet.” And, then the questions – oh! I can only imagine what questions my curious sons might ask. I will field each as ably as I can (which is to say, not very). This is why God has given them to me. I am their father. He has graciously given me the task of teaching, rebuking, instructing, and loving my children. With some trepidation, I look forward to fulfilling that role (and I welcome your prayers for it too).
Finally, if you’re like me, you’ve already had the metaphysical thought, “Where is my son or daughter?”
The truth is, I don’t know and I don’t need to know. I serve Christ, the author and finisher of my salvation, the giver and taker of life. As the sons I can see are, so are the children I do not: they belong to Christ and this Sovereign God can direct his Creation as he deems worthy. In that, I take bold trust and pray that I might yet meet my son or daughter when Christ finally returns and undoes this world so affected by the Curse.
Until such time, we profess to be pro-life, not because it is politically expedient (or popular), but because Christ has imbued human life with dignity – even at the very early stages of that life. Thus, we grieve. Yet, we are not without hope. We trust in Christ and His sovereign rule and that trust yields to hope through groaning for that day when this fallen world – and the visible effects thereof – will be turned aright. We take comfort in the words of Paul to the Romans, chapter 8:
For we know that the whole creation has been groaning together in the pains of childbirth until now. And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.
Jeremiah G. Dys is Senior Counsel to Liberty Institute, a nationwide religious liberty law firm. As a First Amendment attorney, Dys works with Liberty Institute across the country to restore and defend religious liberty. Dys is regularly featured in local, state, and national print, radio, and television outlets. He lives in a log home on the edge of the country close to Charleston, West Virginia, with his wife and four sons.
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