Forced Puzzle Pieces

It was a Wednesday morning. I covered my face with a baseball hat and a face mask. My eyes were red and swollen. I sat in the chair with my sleeve rolled up. Tears rolled down, soaked up by my mask. The nurse gently cleaned my arm, still bruised from 5 days before. On the same arm, within the same week -- I had two different bruises. The first bruise was the trophy of a positive, joyful beginning. The second bruise confirmed a miscarriage. 

After the clinic, I left for Walgreens for sanitary pads. The same Walgreens I had visited to buy a pregnancy test just a week before. I slowly made my way to the Family Planning & Feminine Care aisle with jazz music in the background. Surreal. In one week my life changed twice. All commemorated by bruises and an aisle in Walgreens. 

***

The last memorable conversation I had with my grandmother before her stroke involved her sharing a life-long kept secret. I had asked her when her and grandpa started trying for my dad (the oldest of 3 boys). She then told me that she had been pregnant before my dad, but miscarried. "I knew I should have gotten that leaky pipe fixed in my car..."   "It's not your fault Grandma. It's a very common, terrible loss that a lot of women experience. You had nothing to do with it."   "Yeah, maybe so..." 

I was the first and only person she ever shared that with. That conversation allowed a granddaughter to refute her grandma's 50 year guilt... and it gave a granddaughter the gift to remember her late grandmother in the same, shared tragedy and brokenness years later. 

"It's not your fault Grandma. It's a very common, terrible loss that a lot of women experience. You had nothing to do with it." 

"It's not your fault Natalie. It's a very common, terrible loss that a lot of women experience. You had nothing to do with it." 

***

The Sunday of my week-long (known) pregnancy, we sang one of my Grandma's funeral songs. When Peace Like a River. I cried, thinking of my late grandmother and my soon-to-be child. The sermon was about the question, "Why do bad things happen to good people?" Looking back, only 3 days later, the relevancy and timing of that message & hymn choice does not pass me. 

***

"For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." 1 Corinthians 13:12-13

The entire week felt like a terrible jigsaw puzzle. The same nurse who drew my positive pregnancy blood test, drew my miscarriage blood test. Match. The second vein bruise covered my first one. Match. The same aisle, in the same store, provided my pregnancy test & sanitary napkins. Match. The secret my grandma shared and the experience we now share. Match. The hymn that I cried to on Sunday because it reminded me of my grandma and will now remind me of my baby and this loss. Match. 

But maybe this jigsaw puzzle isn't so terrible. Maybe the matches, the connections, the parallels in this tragedy aren't dreadful - but more humbling. These puzzle pieces remind myself that I do and will only know in part. My attempt to forcefully "match the puzzle pieces" only demonstrate the faded and distorted reflection I can see & know. I can try to connect bruises, Walgreen errands, and melodies together to fully understand, process, and know what happened to me. But I am a mere human, I know only in part. I am at the will of my Creator, my God, the Rock of my Salvation. I am fully known by the One who knows all things. Amen! Instead of forcing jigsaw puzzle pieces together, I can understand this tragedy by trusting in the muddled reflection of God's greater design. I can understand my pain by believing "then we shall see face to face." There is freedom, peace, and comfort when I can say: "Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known." 

I did not fully know my child. But my baby was and is fully known by our shared Creator. Lord, I pray that as I struggle on this side of heaven to only know in part: my baby, my pain, Your plan; reassure me that You know fully. Allow me to see the mirror's reflection with content, trust, and peace. Provide the faith that I will see face to face. Grant the forgiveness that one day "I may fully know, even as I am fully known." Amen.