Remembering Jubilee

So a note from a friend this morning reminded me of where I was at a year ago today. I had found out a couple weeks before that I was pregnant, defying 99.5% odds against its happening, and I was anxiously wondering whether I was going to be able to keep my baby - a little girl whose name, Jubilee Ruth, God had given me a month before. I know now that I had probably already lost her by that time, but a year ago today, I had no idea what the outcome would be. It felt like a perpetual roller coaster of waiting - for the next doctor's appointment, phone call, test result, ultrasound, etc. It would be good news one day and uncertain news the next. Positive pregnancy test; blank ultrasound. A doctor who was "hopeful but concerned." Clear answers were totally elusive, and I had to go through Christmas with my family not knowing whether I was still pregnant or not, choosing whether to make "the announcement" or not. And I did make the announcement, even though as it turned out, she was already gone.

I found out officially about losing Jubilee in the first days of this year. A few days after that, my pastor gave a sermon about the Year of Jubilee (yeah, I know - seriously). He talked about life, redemption, newness, and freedom. I sat listening in total numb shock. Here was God, letting me know for the fiftieth time that He was SO in this, so intimately with me, so in charge of this, and that this year - literally, the year 2011 - would be a year of Jubilee for me. That was in the first days of 2011. Now, here I sit in the last days of 2011, a lot of therapy and struggle and emotional hard work later, feeling like I've anything but "made it" to the Jubilee promise, yet also awaiting a brand new little Life. In so many ways I'm still waiting for His Jubilee promise to be fulfilled, yet in this other HUGE way, it's right around the corner. Like, as in days. This little boy wouldn't be here if not for my little girl's departure, and it is so obvious that he's supposed to be here.

Remembering all of the emotional ups and downs of that season, which has so defined my past year, it puts my current waiting state into good perspective. I am SO SICK of waiting for this baby, y'all. I know I'm not even at my due date yet, but back in September I had several impressions from the Lord that made me concerned about premature labor. Well, obviously that didn't happen, which is a huge blessing, and yet it's made the whole "waiting period" feel even more never-ending than last time, when I went two weeks overdue. (Is it possible for something to be MORE never-ending? Anyways.)

This morning I read my journal/prayer from December 11th, 2010, as close as I could find to a year ago today. I had been to the doctor two days before to remove my IUD, and was bleeding, not knowing if it was normal bleeding or miscarriage bleeding. I was at the height of my anxiety in the whole journey. It was chilling and yet so redeeming to read these words and remember these feelings:

December 11, 2010

 ...I’m on this roller coaster of hoping, dreading, hoping, dreading. Yesterday I prayed that if I was going to lose this baby, that it would happen sooner than later so that I won’t be on this roller coaster forever. 

...It’s just so hard. I have gotten really excited and hopeful, almost in spite of myself. I really can’t help it. Ever since November 10^th when you told me about Jubilee Ruth, I have wanted a newborn baby girl. That’s on my mind more or less all the time. ...Here I sit in this incredibly tenuous place of not knowing if it’s a green light or a red light. Yet my heart insists on continuing to hope and be excited, even while my head is telling me to slow down, hold up. Just wait.

I am holding as closely as I can to the realization that it is YOU that I want. Whatever YOU bring, whatever YOU see as necessary for my becoming more like you and drawing others to you, that is what I want. This life is nothing but a brief pilgrimage toward the REAL life that is waiting for us either when our physical bodies die or you return. This life is NOT the place to settle down and root ourselves. It’s fleeting. Like the blink of an eye, a flower quickly fading. That’s all this is. Not that there isn’t purpose to it; there’s immense purpose and beauty and intentionality in it. There’s richness to it. But it’s fleeting, and only someone who had no hope for anything greater would base their entire hope and happiness on a pleasant experience here. It’s just not a foundation we can or should build ourselves on.

Most of what happens to us, we have NO control over. Especially the bad things. Of course we can make all kinds of choices leading to pain, but there are so many kinds of pain that just happen to us. Like the possibility of me having a miscarriage. Right now I feel completely powerless to do anything except plead with you for my baby’s life. I know You have power, so I turn to you. But I also know that all I can do is speak my heart to you, like I’m doing right now. All I can do is wrestle with you, and just throw myself at your feet. I don’t need to have this baby girl brought to term healthy in order to worship you or acknowledge you as good and glorious Lord of the universe. I will do that regardless. I will experience that regardless. And if losing this baby is something you deem as absolutely necessary in my journey of knowing you, experiencing you, becoming like you, then I will accept it as such. But my plea is that it wouldn’t have to be necessary. Again, all I can do is speak my heart – I’ve got absolutely no bargaining chips here and honestly, no desire to manipulate you. But I do have my heart, my desires, my pain, my fear, my excitement, my dread. All of that I offer up to you. 

I acknowledge that my desire to give birth to a healthy Jubilee Ruth is a secondary desire. My ability to know you and have intimate relationship with you does not depend on whether that happens, and the extent of my joy in the next life with you also does not depend on that. At this point, even if I don’t get to meet Jubilee Ruth here, I know she is real, and so even if she has already died by the time I’m writing this, I trust that I will get to meet her someday. You created her and love her too, whether you intended for her to experience this earth or not. …So my joy and my worship of you and my declaration that you’re good and my belief that you love me does not depend on what happens with Jubilee Ruth. 

But in the midst of all of that being true, I still want her. I really, really want her. 

I think I’m being honest when I say that I want you and intimacy with you much more than I want her. Because is the ONLY thing that will not change – YOU. Your character, your reliability, faithfulness, love. That’s it. That’s the only foundation I truly have. So in the context of that foundation, I want this baby. I want the opportunity to parent her, to love and nurture her, to do what I can to shape her character and personhood so that it leans toward You. I want the chance to love her well and to model Your nature for her. I want a baby sister for Annabel – we told her about Jubilee and she’s already talking about having a baby sister. I want her to get to have that too. I just want it. But I’m excited to be able to also say that, as far as I can see within myself, my hopes are not set on having Jubilee. My world does not depend on that. 

I’m going to grieve a lot if this pregnancy ends. It’s going to be really hard. I may even have to go home for Christmas without knowing whether I’ve had a miscarriage or not. I dread that too. 

But really, it’s okay. And not because I still have Annabel, or I still have Nate, or I still have family to support me, or any of that. It’s not going to be okay because I still have x number of blessings and those will get me through. No, it’s okay because of You. Because You are still God, You are still You, You haven’t changed. You still love me, You still have good purposes for me according to your definition of good, and You are still going to receive all the glory for my life. 

This entire experience, this whole season, now punctuated by this Jubilee journey, has been rich and beautiful even while difficult and draining. It has been incredibly characterized by your signature hand. I know without any doubt that you are behind every step of this path. You initiated, you pursued, you provided, you spoke, you orchestrated. You even overcame a 99.5% effective method of contraception to do what you wanted to do. That’s right up there with a miracle. Every medical person I’ve talked to has seen it that way – not medically impossible, but sure rare and surprising.

 So, You’ve been amazing throughout all of this. Thanks that you have been present to me in the midst of this season. You sure didn’t have to be. You could have been totally silent, and maybe you still will be. I don’t know. I have no indication from you at this point as to whether this baby will be okay or not. I have only bleeding to make me dread the worst. But I would a million times over rather have a miscarriage in the beautiful context of a redemptive journey with You than a healthy baby girl without you. There is no comparison there at all. And the beautiful thing is that I really mean that. I don’t want to believe or feel that; I genuinely do. 

So whatever happens, it will be okay, even if it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through, which is possible I guess. Because I have learned the secret to being content in any circumstance: I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me. I can endure anything so long as I have You, and I do have You. You are not going anywhere, no matter what I feel, think, experience. You’re there. So I can endure anything. It really is the secret. I’m right there with Paul. You are my Life. You, and that’s it. Just You. 

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It's amazing to see how true my words were. Because honestly, I was closer to God during that time of loss and suffering than I am right now, in a season of blessing and impending LIFE. Here I am, about to receive a healthy and beautiful baby boy, and I am far less content than I was a year ago. I am far more complaining, tired, and spiritually foggy than when I was in the midst of some of my deepest grief. It couldn't be a more stark reminder that my contentedness has so much more to do with my closeness to the Lord than any earthly blessing or comfort. 

So, as thankful as I am for this new little baby about to enter the world, I'm just as thankful for the loss of my daughter Jubilee. And if all I have to wait for this time is for his life, rather than for her death, I'm going to do my best to focus on gratitude. I mean, seriously. If I could praise God then, I sure can praise Him now.