10 minute read
KARA NOTHNAGEL
THERE IS SPACE FOR YOU HERE
On 13th March 2020, I found out I was pregnantwith our third child. This much wanted little surprisecame just as the world was truly waking up to theCovid-19 pandemic. At the time I found out wewere pregnant, my husband Christian was awayin Trinidad visiting family. A good friend happenedto be visiting me and I confided in her about mysuspicions, at which point we jumped in the car,bought a test, took it and there was the word Iexpected: ‘pregnant’. A few days later Christianarrived home. I boxed up the positive test alongwith a beautiful onesie and tied it all together witha satin bow. I will never forget the look of puresurprise and joy when he opened the box. Wewere finally going to have another baby and it waswonderful. We told a few trusted friends who wereover the moon and they, like us, began dreamingabout this new person, who was still physicallyforming but was very much present. On Friday 20March 2020 the UK lockdown was announced. Wewent to bed that night, feeling the weight of whatwas happening in the world, but also excited at thenew life we had been blessed with.
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I awoke the next morning feeling as though I have been wrestling all night. I went to the bathroom and was met with a sharp cramping pain which caused me to fall to the floor and very quickly I realised that something was wrong. I gathered myself and quickly ran downstairs and said to Christian “I’m bleeding.” We sat there holding one another and prayed “God, please don’t let us lose this baby”.
Due to the pandemic the hospital advised me to stay in bed and that they would see me in a couple of days. I was told if I was losing the pregnancy, there was nothing I could do about it. We reached out to friends to pray and I was flooded with stories of people who had bled but their babies had survived, because God had “come through” for them. So, I lay in my bed clinging on in faith that our story would be like theirs. I remember hearing in my spirit “let prayer do the heavy lifting” and so I did. I lay there, while I knew our people were praying. Secondly, I heard “It’s not your fault” and I quickly typed it out and made it the screen saver on my phone.
I waited at home for three exhausting days, and then we went to the hospital, had a scan and sat in a room where we heard the words “There is no sign of life, or anything, so we are sorry to confirm this has been a miscarriage.” I turned to the nurse and said “Ok, thank you.” In that moment, I felt as though everything in me was screaming and yet I had somehow fallen into a vacuum of silence. Our baby was no longer here with us and we wouldn’t get to meet them this side of eternity. In that horrible walk through the hospital, back to the car and the drive home, grace multiplied, and peace mounted up garrison over my heart and mind, carrying away anything that wasn’t God’s voice.
Lockdown meant we didn’t have to face the kind of people I dreaded facing - those who want the gossip, those who are insensitive, those who make it about them; but we were also cut off from our real support system. However, even though we couldn’t physically see people, when I look back I realise one of the main signs of God’s love for us has been people who dedicated themselves to being the word made flesh to us. Friends who didn’t let themselves off the hook by giving us a few curt, cute, cliche Christian answers, but instead, got down to my level, in the brokenness and hurt and said, “I’m not leaving you.” Friends who went to war in prayer for my mind, friends who messaged faithfully on the monthly anniversary of the loss, friends who asked questions and friends who, once restrictions were lifted, took us away with them so we could have help and come up for air. Friends who understood the cost, sacrifice and privilege of what it means to BE the body and bear one another’s burdens.
The vision of Me2 Mentoring, of which I am a part of, is “being transformed through relationship with God and one another”. I believe we have a story of healing, because of how God used the ‘one another’ to love us back to life.
This past year, I have wrestled. I’ve wrestled with trying to reconcile the sovereignty of God, the goodness of God and the disappointment I was experiencing. I have wrestled with that deep sense of “Why?” Why ask me to carry this? I wrestled with the desperation of just wanting the pain to go away. I have wrestled with anxiety and panic that at times made me feel insane. I have wrestled with not feeling like a “good Christian” or “good leader” for feeling all of those things. So often I have thought “I shouldn’t feel like this. I know the Word, I know God is good and I should just be OK and get over it” and when I couldn’t, I felt like a failure. There was also the “at least” and “but” brigade. “At least you have two children”, “at least you weren’t further along”, “at least it wasn’t as bad as…” or “but its vey common” “but you’ll eventually be fine” “but it’s been a couple of months now”. The truth is when your heart is broken and you have lost something precious, there is no “but” or “at least” that matters.
The pain of loss has been almost unbearable at times. I have held back telling my story because, unlike my pregnancy test, there is so much I can’t tie in a nice ‘Christian-ese’ satin bow for you. I’m not grateful this happened and I wouldn’t want to walk through it again, but God has crafted beauty where there were ashes and entrusted us with a costly story I believe will be balm for the wounds of others.
Friend, I can confidently say, I experienced the peace of God that surpasses understanding every step of the way. He didn’t snap His fingers and make everything go away, but He tenderly sat with me in the pain and walked through it with me. He remained true, constant, present and near. There were nights when I would tuck my two children into bed and they would ask me to sing their favourite worship songs like “The Goodness of God” and “Through it all” or “Waymaker” and I would sit there in the dark and sing “I love you Lord, you have led me through the fire. In darkest nights you are close like no other.” In those moments I would feel arms around me holding together the pieces of my broken heart. Worshipping in the midst of sorrow is so costly but I know Jesus met me there and I experienced, once again, the power of “raising my hallelujah louder than my unbelief”. I would feel hope anchor my soul. I would sing through my tears “You are peace to a restless soul, Peace when my thoughts wage war, Peace to the anxious heart, That’s who You are, that’s who You are. You are peace when my fear takes hold, Peace when I feel enclosed, Peace when I lose control, That’s who You are, that’s who You are”.
I have never been so grateful for Jesus and for what He did when He died on the cross and rose again. Reconciling man to God so that we can be found in Him and one day enter that eternal place of hope with Him. Knowing that when I enter eternity I will get to hold my child and see their face fills me such joy and hope that is makes my chest ache and my eyes stream. I laugh as I imagine the friends who are already there, playing with my child, dancing and laughing and cheering us on as we continue to run our race here. I have learned once again that understanding is not the pathway to peace and that you can laugh and have joy, while being full of grief and lament. I can assure you that even in my darkest moments, I knew God was there and He used every channel possible to get me the help I needed. He was my ever present help in my time of need. He was patient and loving in allowing me question and to be afraid. He didn’t demand me to change, He didn’t turn me away. He cradled me in my most raw and naked moments and simply said “I’m here” and as He did He would turn the bathroom floor I was laying on into holy ground. Isaiah 57:15 says “I live in the high and holy places, but also with the low-spirited, the spirit-crushed, And what I do is put new spirit in them, get them up and on their feet again.” God faithfully got me up on my feet every time.
On what would have been our baby’s due date, I knew I had to release what had gone before and make peace with the fact that life was different and I was now different, but different is not bad. And on the other side of every death there is resurrection life to be found. My story isn’t God “came thorough” and stopped the miscarriage. My story is, I had a miscarriage, I walked through the valley of the shadow of death, but as promised, He was with me, He didn’t leave me and has restored my soul. I talk to Jesus about my third baby often. I still say to Him “I don’t understand why they couldn’t be here with me. I miss them so much. But, I am so happy I know where they are, I’m grateful they are safe and loved and I’m so excited to come and join you one day.”
Telling this story is hard. But, then I picture the one woman, sitting on her bathroom floor crying out for peace and answers, feeling completely alone and unseen - she is my why. If that is you and you are reading this, know I’m telling my story for you. I’m saying, I’m here, I see you, I have been and in someways will always be, you. Believe me when I say, you’re not broken, you will rise again, but until then, there is space for your grieving here.
If you’re suffering in silence, I pray that you draw close to the Father and let Him love you back to life. I pray that you will join me in the declaration we find in Lamentations 3:21-24 “Yet, I still dare to hope when I remember this: The faithful love of the Lord never ends! His mercies never cease. Great is His faithfulness; His mercies begin afresh each morning. I say to myself, “The Lord is my inheritance; therefore, I will hope in Him!”
A NEW EDITION
Dear Friend, I wrote the testimony you have just read at the beginning of March and as I was writing I felt the Holy Spirit whisper that the timing was significant.
Over the next couple of weeks a very familiar feeling began to settle over me. Tiredness, nausea and cravings for salt and vinegar crisps! I took a pregnancy test and the words appeared ‘Pregnant’! As we went to bed, I prayed that God would keep my heart steady and my mind fixed on Him and that fear would have no place in this journey. The next morning, our daughter Zoë came up to me, rubbed my tummy and said “Mama, in the night time, Jesus was talking to me about the baby He is giving us and that everything is going to be ok”. 6 weeks later when we shared the news with our children Zoë cried “happy tears” and said “I told you Jesus said He was giving us a baby, and God doesn’t lie!”.
It is now June, and I am 17 weeks along and we are so grateful. But, it feels important to say, the peace I feel is in spite of this new baby coming, not because of it. Peace and restoration came long before the positive pregnancy test. We celebrate and rejoice over this incredible gift, over the miracle of life and of the faithfulness of God in and through every season!
— Kara and her family live and work in London. She is a writer, mentor and business owner. They are members of London Network Church, often seen preaching and leading worship.
