Miriam Webster’s Dictionary defines FAILURE as
1) Omission of occurrence or performance; specifically: a failing to perform a duty or expected action
2) A state of inability to perform a normal function: an abrupt cessation of normal functioning
3) A fracturing or giving way under stress: falling short: Deficiency
4) One who has failed
For the longest time after Nathan’s death I felt I was a failure in the biggest sense of the word. Actually, it began even before that during my many years of infertility. I felt defective. While my womb was to be closed, other women conceived seemingly without effort. Reproducing is the one thing women are supposed to be able to do right? It is our bodies design right? Why didn’t mine cooperate? Why was I consistently failing at this? What was wrong with me? Fix me Jesus! After many years I came to peace with it, and accepted that my purpose must just be on another path. I accepted that my step daughter was to be my only child, and poured into her instead of living with sadness.
So imagine after all those years, the joy to have conceived Nathan. Imagine feeling defective no longer. Imagine finding your most desperate prayer answered. Imagine the grace, the gift of it all. And then Nathan was gone, and I felt like a failure all over again. My body had failed me in the most devastating of ways. My body had an “abrupt cessation of normal functioning”. Giving birth to a live, healthy child was a specific function I just could not perform. Even still I was never resentful at God. Rather only at myself. I poured all my anger, disappointment, emptiness, inward and blamed myself secretly. When others said that it wasn’t my fault I nodded, even agreed aloud, but on the inside I wanted to rip my defective womb from my body. It is a private anguish I haven’t truly written about until now. The definition of failure intersected my situation seemingly at every turn…except for the last example.
One who has failed.
Failure seemed to be the result of an action or series of them. The act of falling short; the act of giving way; the state of inability was not something I controlled or acted in. The failure; the lack of a live birth was not something my body and I discussed. There was no negative action on my part, only a negative result. I was living the result of a cataclysmic event. This tragic event did not box me into the label of a failure. I did that to myself. I labeled myself a person who has failed. I am a logical person, but illogically attacked myself. In the medical community, our loss is considered an “unexplained fetal demise”. It sounds harsh but that is simply the way science explains the unexplainable. They give it a label. But they didn’t give it the label of Failure. Nowhere on any of our paperwork will you see “Mother is at fault” or “Mother is an epic failure for not producing a healthy child”. Even science does not blame me. So I had to stop blaming myself.
In a few weeks it will be three years, and it took me the better part of it, to fully understand that I am not a failure. This was a secret burden that only a few knew I carried. Saying it out loud was the ultimate attack on myself. Admitting I felt this way was a huge part of our decision to try again or not. I had to face this darkness before I could really move forward. It seemed to be the biggest mountain. The feeling of failure was all around me. If I decided to not try for another pregnancy was I failing? Would this make me a quitter? Was I failing to fully trust God, and allow my fear of another loss to decide for me?
The decision to “try again” or not to “try again”, after the loss of a child requires a lot of prayer. For me, it was early on that I felt I did not have the desire to try again. Especially with the feeling of failure hanging over my head. The doom of it had to be processed and healed from before a final decision could be made. To me moving forward with incomplete healing would be a disservice to myself and also James, and that would actually be the failure.
Nathan was a miracle in our minds and the most perfect pregnancy imaginable. I enjoyed every part of my pregnancy, and have wonderful memories of my experience. There wasn’t a single part of pregnancy I felt I had missed, and up until the last moments, I could not have imagined anything better. I did not expect to become pregnant, so when it happened it was the best from the get-go. Even though Nathan was stillborn, I don’t feel jilted necessarily. I dreamed of being pregnant, and got to live that dream. Pregnancy was not a rainbow I felt I needed to chase any longer. Even though Nathan is not here now, I cannot say a single bad thing about the pregnancy aspect. After much healing I could whole heartedly say I had not failed, and I quit blaming myself and my body for Nathan. Because of my step-daughter, I had experienced being a Mother. So for me, it was not as if loosing Nathan left me childless. Even though Arlene was grown when Nathan passed, I still experienced raising her from a very young age, and did not feel as empty as I could have. I believe this may be the core to why “trying” for another baby just was no longer a passionate desire. I had a sense of parental fulfillment.
James was on the fence about it, but he was completely supportive, and allowed me the time to process my feelings. We decided to give it a year, and while I still did not feel the need to carry another child, I could see that James would like to give it a go. Through some excellent therapy I had defeated the failure demon. I wasn’t necessarily against trying again, just not passionate about it either. So we decided to stop birth control and see what happened. We gave it about 4 months or so, and then one day it just hit me. I just looked at him and said…You know, I’m Ok, You’re Ok, and We’re OK, can that be enough? We have survived this. We have this awesome marriage, ministry, and life together, why not just let it be? And so we did. Not because of failure just because of peace. It hit us both at the same time, and we just knew.
Pregnancy was officially off the table for us. It was a relief, a weight was suddenly lifted. Pregnancy was not the missing piece to our particular puzzle. For some it is, and for some it isn’t. Some people feel complete peace and also the desire to conceive again. Some people do not, and either choice is individual, and acceptable. When you know… you know, and for us, we knew. We have peace about Nathan’s passing, even though it sucks, and we don’t understand it. But we believe than God is what makes us whole. Even Nathan isn’t the missing piece to our happiness. He is joy to us, a blessing we cherish, our butterball miracle, our gift from God, but He Himself is not what makes us complete. God does that. God is in control here. In the end, God can allow us to conceive even with prevention, if He so chooses. I am not saying that James and I are the sole deciders. I say with complete absence of arrogance, we simply decided to not pursue it, and be at peace.
Peace is a gift. It is a gift that comes from pure and perfect Grace. I don’t claim to understand it, but I did choose to grab it when it was offered to me. To move forward, to carry this loss, you have to decide to grab hold of peace. Grabbing hold of it leads you to acceptance. Acceptance is the opposite of failure. It simply means raising your hearts to the LORD and saying here I am…I don’t get it…but I am here…and I believe. And he will make himself real to you. It is a realness that cannot, and will not, ever fail.
