In October of 2015 I was beyond delighted to find out that I was pregnant with our fifth baby. I call her our fifth, because about three months prior to this I suffered a miscarriage in the first trimester of pregnancy. That baby was, and is, very real to me. Though I never held him in my arms, I carry him within my heart. Some might think that with the next positive pregnancy test, that all of the sadness and grief would disappear entirely, and for some that might be true. However, it only seemed to make the battle even more intense for me. I knew that the desire of our hearts was to have another baby, and that I would need to face some situations that might trigger some unprocessed emotions and experiences. I knew I’d have to do all of the regular things, doctors appointments, blood draws, ultrasounds. But more than anything I needed to know His heart and His intentions for this process. One afternoon I was sitting at my children’s school table, in a small chair intended for tiny people, when the Holy Spirit began to reveal something beautiful found in Isaiah 51. 

ISAIAH 51

‘The Lord Comforts Zion

“Listen to Me, you who follow after righteousness,

You who seek the Lord:

Look to the rock from which you were hewn,

And to the hole of the pit from which you were dug.

Look to Abraham your father,

And to Sarah who bore you;

For I called him alone,

And blessed him and increased him.

For the Lord will comfort Zion,

He will comfort all her waste places;

He will make her wilderness like Eden,

And her desert like the garden of the Lord;

Joy and gladness will be found in it,

Thanksgiving and the voice of melody.”’

I couldn’t move from these verses and began to dive deep into the words and their meanings. That’s where I found Him, waiting for me in the midst of my struggle and searching. As I read, I learned that the word for comfort in verse 3 is not one that implies a sympathetic yet disconnected pat on the back. No, this word for comfort is the word ‘nacham’ and it carries with it the picture of deepest empathy as one who sighs with grief alongside the one who is grieving. In the grief of what was lost, He was with me. As I read on and continued to study this passage, I learned that in verse 3 where the Lord promises to make her desert like the garden of the Lord, it literally refers to a fenced in garden, or a garden that is surrounded and enclosed. I still remember writing as fast as I possibly could while the Holy Spirit began to explain that in this place where I had felt so stolen from, so dry and with such longing, He was there. He was bringing transformation and water to the dry places. He was surrounding me and this new life. He was fencing us in with His arms wrapped around us. When fear would knock, whether it be when I was washing dishes, doing laundry, bathing children, and many times upon a simple trip to the bathroom… I would remind myself of His presence, His faithfulness, and His arms fencing us in. I would picture my womb and this baby, fully fenced in, guarded and protected. The first few days and weeks of my pregnancy, I had some spotting, which, to be honest, riddled me with anxiety. But the Lord continued to reveal His heart through these words — surrounded, fenced, protected. And from this place of His presence and promise, He carried me.

I made it to full term and as I was in labour, I heard the Holy Spirit say to have the midwife break my water. I knew this HAD to be Him as in the natural I avoided this type of intervention unless it was medically necessary. But again, something inside of me knew it was time and there was peace upon this decision. I watched the midwife’s face as she went to break my water. Her expression slowly transformed from one of relaxed happiness, to flat, to quizzical and then to downright surprise. She tried and tried, and tried again until it finally released. She looked at me, smiled and remarked, ‘That’s the toughest bag of water that I’ve ever had to break!’ I smiled back and within my heart I felt His faithfulness. I knew this was merely a physical representation of what I’d been seeing in the spirit. A fenced in garden, protected, kept, nurtured. A short while later, our precious baby made her way into the world just after sunrise. That morning, all glory to God, I held his promise in my womb and in my arms. 

I do not write this testimony as some sort of formulaic expression to follow for a full term pregnancy. I write because I believe it is His heart to walk with us, as mothers, through every stage of the journey. He weeps with us, giving us the deepest of comfort. And He gives us His faith so that we can receive even more of His love and purposes in our lives. I write because He asked me to, because it is His presence that carried me through, not my own strength. I write because we overcome by the blood of the Lamb and the word of the testimony of Jesus (Revelation 12:11). This topic is far too often not spoken of, though it has touched many of our hearts. Jesus is not swayed by our grief or our longings, He is present for all of it. He, Himself, longs to bring His life and life abundant to the ones He calls his own. I pray, precious daughter, that in the sharing of this journey that you will feel His loving arms around you and your own children, those that are and those that will be. He is ever present, carrying us, and guiding us. With our eyes upon Him, we can respond to His love with faith and hope. I pray, beloved, that not only would you receive the deepest ‘nacham’ from our Lord Jesus in the areas where you need it the most, but that you would have encounters with His presence that would bring such flourishing transformation and joy. 

Isaiah 40:11 ‘He will care for you as a shepherd tends his flock, gathering the weak lambs and taking them in his arms. He carries them close to his heart and gently leads those that have young.’ TPT