It was 2 a.m. Friday night. I had just flown in from a seminar out of town. I was eager to see my wife and talk with her. As I quietly crept into the house, I found her sitting up in bed, waiting for me, half asleep from the sheer exhaustion of caring for our three young kids without me for a week.

“What’s this?” I said as I saw the little blue tip of a pregnancy test sticking out of her nightstand drawer.

“Oh no!” she said, suddenly roused from her daze, “You weren’t supposed to see that! I wanted to surprise you!”

“Well, it’s definitely a surprise! But this is one of those early detection tests. Are you sure it’s correct?”

“Yes, I’m sure!” she said as she pulled out a ziplock bag with 5 other positive tests.

We scheduled our confirmation screening for two weeks later.

After measuring and remeasuring on the ultrasound, the doctor gave us a grim look. “Well, your baby is measuring a little behind. You believe it should be 7 weeks? The baby is around 6 weeks and 2 days. It’s not the end of the world. Your math could be wrong. This is well within the margin of error. But, still, I’d like to see you back next week to check the growth.”

The next weekend, I had to leave for an overnight trip to be the best man in a wedding. We had the appointment scheduled for the early morning, and we drove separately so I could get on the road quickly afterward. And then…

6 weeks and 4 days. A whole week later and only two days of growth? He readjusted and measured again, just to be sure. Then again. And again and again. Every time, the same result, 6 weeks and 4 days. There should have been more. I felt her grip tighten around my fingers, saw the tears welling in her eyes, and heard her questions about what was happening come out in a hushed whisper.

“I know this is not good news, but this is no longer a viable pregnancy. I would like to see you back in another week to continue to check for a heartbeat, but I would not be surprised at this point if you miscarried before next Friday. I am so sorry. Take all the time you need.”

With that short interaction with the doctor, our world came crashing down. This precious life God had given us was suddenly hovering between life and death. We resolved together that I still needed to go to the wedding. There was nothing I could do at home since there weren’t any signs or symptoms of miscarriage. We just had to wait. But the moment anything happened over the weekend, I would come straight back home. As I prepared to celebrate the start of my friend’s new life as a married man, my heart began grieving the end of the life of my child.

In this turmoil, the Lord taught us three powerful truths from his Word and from his people.

Draw Near to God and He Will Draw Near to You

Laying on my hotel bed that night, waiting for the wedding the next day, I called my wife. I read Psalm 13 over the phone. David asks, “How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me?” We felt forgotten. We felt far from the Lord. And in that distance, we felt the pain of loss and tragedy.

“How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day?” (Psalm 13:2). We looked inward. We focused on our own grief, we fixed our eyes on the sadness, and we felt the sorrow sweeping over us. “God, are we going to have to carry this heartache forever?”

But we kept reading, “But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me” (Psalm 13:5-6). Our hearts were heavy, but this verse said we could still have joy. So we asked each other, “How has God dealt bountifully with us?” We began to list the ways. And as we reminded one another of God’s steadfast love, our hearts began to strengthen. Slowly, our eyes shifted away from ourselves and onto Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith (Hebrews 12:2), who endured the cross so that our little baby might have eternal joy.

We no longer felt alone or betrayed. In that moment, we both grew closer to God and to each other as we read his Word, and he drew near to us (James 4:8a). We learned that our ability to deal with tragedy is only as good as our relationship with God in any given moment. We learned to trust in his steadfast love. Not only for us but for our baby.

The Baby Is Here Until He Isn’t

Psalm 139:16 says, “Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them.” We believe this verse — that God sees and knows every single baby inside his mother, from the point of conception until his final days — whether he lives 7 weeks in the womb or 70 years on Earth.

Yet, we learned in this season that the plans we make can so easily foil what we know to be true. Already, we had found ourselves speaking of the baby in past tense, thinking about arrangements for what we would do in memorial for the miscarried child. My wife spoke to her mother about this, and we received a kind admonishment from the Lord through her about the way we were thinking. My mother-in-law reminded us, “The baby is here until he isn’t.” We needed to be reminded that this baby was still alive.

“But the doctor said…” Yes, he did. But he is not God, and he is not in charge of this universe. Jesus Christ is. And if he wants to save the life of this baby against all hope, he can. Meanwhile, we are responsible to think, speak, and act like our child is alive.

Prayer Is Powerful

As we waited in anticipation for a dark day coming, we prayed. We asked the Lord to save the life of our baby. We asked for growth. We asked for a miracle.

At the same time that we asked for a miracle and believed that God could provide one if he desired, we also knew that he did not always perform one. Many of our dearest and closest friends at church that we spoke with during this tumultuous week had experienced miscarriage and loss in their pregnancies as well. We heard their stories about the pain and heartache they felt over losing their baby. We had cried with them in the past when we had first heard their news, and now that this reality seemed to be closing in around our own family, we cried all over again over the fallen state of the world. But just as we heard about their suffering, we also heard through their prayers for us about the healing and hope that only God can bring (2 Corinthians 1:10). Paul says in 2 Corinthians 1:8-11 that though he experienced suffering that made him feel like he was going to die, the prayers of the saints for him brought comfort to him in the blackest of nights.

So, in that pain, we kept praying. We asked everyone we spoke to during this week to pray. That was about all that anybody could do at this point. But in the prayer, in the close communion with the Lord, we knew his hand of comfort was upon us.

…

The next week rolled around, and we went in for our next scan.

We watched the screen and waited. The doctor seemed somber as he measured. But then, puzzled.

He readjusted and measured again, just to be sure. Then again. And again and again. Every time, the same result: 8 weeks and 1 day.

We saw a little baby jumping and bouncing in the womb with a tiny but strong heartbeat and little flailing limbs.

“Well, I am not sure how, but this baby’s growth is on track. I am going to put you on course for a normal pregnancy. Congratulations!”

“But the last scan showed the baby wasn’t growing properly.”

“Yes, and you saw me measure it over and over to make sure. I expected to come in here and have to deliver bad news. Yet, here we are.”

Tiny little cells in our tiny little baby that weren’t there were now suddenly there. Jesus Christ is Lord of his universe.

“Are you saying this is a miracle?” my wife asked.

“I’m saying I do not have an explanation for what has happened.”

We did.