Where Does My Help Come From?

Every time I look at our baby, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude. Gratitude for the beautiful baby he is. Gratitude for the healing that has happened in my heart. Gratitude for countless prayers that have covered him and me and this pregnancy. I'm sometimes still surprised that I'm not pregnant anymore, that I'm not waiting for the son I believed God promised me years ago, that we made it.

I was visiting Daiquiri's blog this morning and saw that the Seek the Lord Sunday topic was the Psalms. She wanted people to write about their favorite Psalm or about one that has spoken to you recently.

I was reminded of a night at the beginning of my pregnancy when I was sure I was going to lose this baby, too. I was six weeks along and started spotting. Three of my four pregnancy losses happened later in my pregnancy and were without warning, we just discovered through ultrasound that the baby's heart had stopped beating. But one of the four happened at six weeks, the same spot in my pregnancy I was that night when the spotting started. With that miscarriage, I started spotting, then it turned into a period, and then my pregnancy was over. This time, knowing I was six weeks along and spotting again, I was certain I was miscarrying again.

It was another one of those times when God asked me to "run to the throne, not the phone." It was late at night, my husband wasn't home, and my first instinct was to call him. But I sensed God telling my heart, "Run to me."

I was too emotional to pray. I cried and sobbed, but words wouldn't come to me. All I could think of was the beginning of Psalm 121:

I lift up my eyes to the hills— where does my help come from? My help comes from the LORD, the Maker of heaven and earth.

I just kept repeating that over and over again. Finally, I remember praying, "Lord, you are the only hope we have. Nobody can save this baby. You are the baby's only hope. You are my only hope. Please help us now."

I curled up on my bed, fell asleep, and by mid-morning the bleeding had stopped. It never started again. And today, my baby is sucking on his binkie, swinging in his baby swing, and lost in sweet dreams.

I learned that night that there really is no greater source of help in our times of need. I could have called my husband or my mom. I could have surfed the Internet for answers and hope. I could have called the doctor on call, but everyone was powerless to stop a miscarriage if it was truly happening. Only God had the power to protect that fragile little life inside of me. Only God had the peace for me to be able to fall asleep. And only God could give me this amazing gift nine months later.

He used the Psalms so many times throughout all of these losses and through this pregnancy. Psalms that comforted me. Psalms that reminded me to lean on him. And Psalms that gave me promises and hope.

I now know this to be absolutely true:

He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. - Psalm 147:3

(This post later inspired this devotion if you'd like to see it)

Tweet

Pin It