Holy Spirit, I invite you to this space. I believe you transcend all time, space, and yes, even the internet. I praise you for all you’ve done to keep me and direct me in the previous months and weeks, and I thank you for giving me grace as I’ve navigated this darker season. I thank you for life, and for life more abundantly. And I speak right now a special prayer over every woman, every mother, who has ever lost a child–both breathing or from the womb. I praise you that that was never your plan, or your fault. It was always your intention that every spirit that left heaven to dwell in a body would live a full life, with purpose and promise. I thank you that these women are growing with you, and are being molded and shaped into the women you created them to be, that you’ve carefully held them in their own darkest moments, and that you’re constantly reminding them of your love for them and their children. Thank you for sending your own son to die so that we wouldn’t have to. You knew the price, you know what it feels like to lose a child. You know it oh too well. Thank you for blessing these women’s wombs to carry life full term if they so desire, and I rebuke and command every attack of the enemy over their wombs and their lives right now in Jesus’ name–fear has no place here. Amen.
Although my recent Facebook post has reflected the pain that J.T. and I walked through following the miscarriage of our baby girl, Shiloh Elizabeth, it didn’t necessarily reflect the absolutely miraculous and supernatural peace we walked in as we navigated it. I feel like to do the story justice is to tell it in it’s entity, so here it goes.
We’d gone in for our 12 week checkup with a new doctor that I’d never met before. In the weeks prior all news had been positive, and honestly I never expected anything differently. Carrying Judah was such a breeze and a blessing to my body, that I’d been praying and believing Shiloh would be the same. And she was–I had barely any morning sickness, but did have some indigestion that at times was extremely frustrating. And I was definitely fatigued. But overall, I’d consider it well considering I’d been sick for 6 straight weeks in the first trimester with Judah. Anyways, we’d gone in for the sonogram first, and the ultrasound tech grew quiet. I noticed she wasn’t answering my questions, but didn’t give it too much thought (again, in my mind nothing could go wrong–I knew who my God was and what He’d promised). I noticed J.T. getting antsy, and he started doing some small nervous ticks he has when he gets really anxious. I told him to calm down, I was sure everything was fine. We were led to our room, where the doctor came in shortly and simply said, “Hi, I know this is our first time meeting, and this isn’t ever the way I want to start a checkup, but we can’t find the baby’s heartbeat….”
I remember just looking at her, unmoving, as she continued on about how Shiloh was also measuring 9 days behind, and she was so sorry. Without really giving us much space to process she then told us our options: carry and pass it at home, take a pill to speed things along, or a D&C. At that point reality hit and J.T. and I crumbled. All you really need to know is that in the minutes that followed J.T. immediately began talking to me about how we didn’t have to accept the doctor’s words as final say, and was laying his hands on my belly to pray life, and as he started uttering the words, I stopped him. I heard so clearly in my spirit, “No, don’t call her back.” I wondered why on earth I was hearing it and was struggling to understand if it was the enemy, my own grief, or God himself speaking to me. We went home in shock, trying to grapple with the news, and I called a handful of close friends who I knew had walked this road, and just asked for prayer, and what my options were. What their experiences had been. I wanted to know what to expect. During my drive, I heard the Holy Spirit tell me, “I’m with you in the middle of this loss”. What? God, why on earth are you telling me this when it goes against what I believe? I believe in raising the dead. I believe she can live. But I also was grappling with grief and shock, and just confusion of everything happening so fast.
Later that day, after calling family, we sat down and wondered should we really accept this? And J.T. and I snapped into everything we believed, and decided that regardless of what I’d heard, we were going to believe for life. We wanted a second opinion, and by God’s grace, were connected with another hospital here and a practice that moved heaven and earth to get us in the next day for a second look. We prayed and believed and accepted nothing less than the fact that we were going to see a heartbeat the next day, and so we went to the appointment, and….nothing. Nothing had changed. The same report. We went home and prayed again, and decided we would believe God for a miracle and pressed into Him on what to do. They recommended a D&C because of how far along I was, and I agreed. We had it scheduled for nearly a week later, and I knew that would give God plenty of time to work, with a final ultrasound immediately before going back for the D&C. (Praise God for God-fearing doctors and nurses that were patient with us and wanted to see that miracle also.)
But all the while, I couldn’t shake the deep inner feeling that she wasn’t coming back. So I’ll do my best to explain the internal war that was happening in me. If you don’t know me well, I’m about to share some of my core beliefs with you here. You may, or may not agree, and that’s OK. But I believe the Word of God is the final authority in my life, and His Truth does NOT change or waiver. And with that, I believe that He said that we would see the dead raised, the sick healed, and the captives set free. I believe He meant that literally: that we would be able to lay our hands on the dead and call them back to life, and they would return. I do believe there are probably some limitations to that (length of time dead, the person’s will, etc.), but overall I believe we have that authority. So I didn’t know what to do with this lingering thought/feeling that she wouldn’t return.
The 12 week appointment was a Tuesday, I worked remotely Wednesday, then had the follow up appointment that afternoon, and returned to the office Thursday and Friday, while the D&C had been planned for the following Wednesday. I decided to work until the day of the procedure. That Saturday we called a pastor who had recently lost his wife suddenly, and just asked for prayer, and any words of wisdom on how to move forward. We told him what I’d heard, and he shared with us a vision he’d had of his wife in heaven that he’d kept private, not sharing with the public due to the intimacy of it. As I listened, I was encouraged in my spirit to ask God for more. To ask him to give me some kind of supernatural guidance in all of this, to help me make sense of what to do.
So, the next day, the Sunday before the scheduled procedure, I went before the Lord. I have a good sized walk in closet that I use as a prayer closet, and I’d closed myself in that morning. I remember sitting down and telling the Lord, “Father, I need some kind of supernatural confirmation here. All I’m seeing in the physical is that she won’t return. But I’m believing in my spirit you can send her back, and yet I keep feeling like she won’t return. I need to know what to do before I move forward with any type of surgery. Help me, God. Give me some kind of supernatural sign of what to do.”
And then, I had a vision. Unlike any I’ve had before. I was in a field, a beautiful field, full of knee high grass that swayed in the breeze. I was running, and I looked up to see that I was chasing a beautiful 4 or 5 year old little girl with long brown hair down her back, in a muted pink sundress. She was barefoot, running, looking back at me and laughing, and she grabbed my hand and raced ahead of me, pulling me behind her. Shiloh. We giggled and laughed as she pulled me along, then she looked ahead, gasped, and ran faster, dropping my hand in the process, as she ran towards a man standing in the distance. She reached him, leapt into his arms, and hugged him tight. As I approached them, I saw that it was Jesus. He was wearing all white, with a blue sash across his chest. He had Shiloh on one hip and was nuzzling her cheek, laughing, kissing her, burying his head in her neck. He was just standing there loving her as if he was her earthly father scooping her up and hugging her tight. Then they turned to me, and she reached out her hands, and grabbed my neck in a tight hug. I hugged her back, and when I released her, she waved to me–not goodbye, but instead a wave that meant something like “I’m waiting for you to join me, I’ll see you soon”.
The vision ended, and as I wept on my closet floor, I didn’t hear Judah come in to the closet. But at that time that Shiloh had hugged me, Judah had wrapped his arms around me in a bear hug. God had given me a vision of my daughter, with the tangible physical experience of a hug by my son at the exact time I’d had it in the vision. I knew in that moment, that my girl would not be returning to earth, and that she was made perfect with my own Heavenly Father beside her in heaven.
To be continued…
Spirit Filled Mama 