Experiencing God’s Goodness in the Pain of Miscarriage
“I don’t know how I’ll ever learn to trust God again.” Those words echoed in my heart as I waited for a D&C to remove the remains of our second child—our second loss in just six months. We had prayed, believed, and pleaded with the Lord based on His word. And still, I sat there—empty, broken, and furious with a God I no longer understood. Where is God’s goodness in the midst of something like a miscarriage?
AN UNEXPECTED ECTOPIC PREGNANCY
It was June 2019. My husband, Jake, and I had just celebrated our 5th anniversary in Florida. We had long known we wanted a lot of children, but trying to be intentional, we decided to wait to start trying to get pregnant until I finished PA school. We were finally financially stable after spending those early years of marriage growing closer, traveling, and learning to survive on a dime. We were giddy with excitement for the next season of starting our family.
In the first month of trying to conceive, I was crushed when my period arrived. The cramping, however, was far worse than usual—to the point of vomiting. Years earlier, I’d had surgery for endometriosis, which doctors warned could affect my fertility. Still, I was hopeful.
When the pain returned, I assumed the endometriosis was back again, so I went to the ER. The nurse asked if I could be pregnant, and I was confused- after all, I was on my period. Still, since we’d started trying last month, they tested me anyway. Within ten minutes, the results came back: I was pregnant.
I’ll never forget the look of shock and excitement on my husband’s face. But his joy quickly turned to concern when he saw the horror on mine. He asked why I didn’t share in his excitement. I whispered, “Babe, I’m bleeding and in severe pain. Something is not right with this pregnancy.”
An ultrasound confirmed my worst fear: nothing was in my uterus. There was a baby somewhere in my body, but it didn’t look as if it had made it to the womb. All signs pointed to an ectopic pregnancy. I knew the survival rate of ectopic pregnancies was less than 1%, and many women are advised to end the pregnancy immediately. But what if my baby was that “less than 1%”? How could I willingly end the pregnancy, even knowing my life might be at risk? The moral dilemma was overwhelming. Abortion was out of the question for me—I believe in the sanctity of life. Back in school, when I’d studied ectopic pregnancy, I begged God to never let me face it myself. And yet, here I was. How could He allow this, when I had prayed so specifically against it?
As the pain worsened and bleeding continued, I asked God for a miracle- that He would move the baby into my womb and save its life or let me miscarry naturally. I knew He could, if only He would. My HCG levels rose, but no sac appeared, and doctors began discussing medication to end the pregnancy to protect my health. I pleaded with the Lord not to let it come to that. I couldn’t imagine choosing to end my pregnancy, even if it was deemed nonviable. The child inside me, wherever it was, was already so real to me. I loved him or her in a way I had never known before, and the thought of losing this child was unbearable. Then, after intense pain and a second ER visit, my HCG levels dropped. It was confirmed: I was miscarrying naturally. God had spared me the impossible choice.
I wept—deep, guttural sobs. How could God allow this?
WHEN SUFFERING BECOMES PERSONAL
Just months earlier, I had returned from volunteering at a Kenyan children’s hospital, where I watched precious children suffer and die due to lack of basic medical care. I was there expecting to catch a glimpse of the work God was calling me to do full-time, a dream I had pursued for years. Instead, I returned home questioning God’s goodness for the first time in my life.
Now the pain was personal. After witnessing suffering across the world, death had entered my own home. Hard questions haunted me day and night, as I cried myself to sleep. I asked over and over: Why would a good Father allow such suffering? Why would He not intervene when I knew He could? Why were children dying all over the world from preventable diseases, and why had He taken MY child? I didn’t think life could feel any darker, until six months later, when I lost our second baby.
A SECOND MISCARRIAGE: IS GOD WHO HE SAYS HE IS?
With the positive pregnancy test and confirmation of the fetus in the uterus, we were thrilled and confident that God had redeemed our loss. But at eight and a half weeks, the heartbeat stopped. This time I opted for a D&C. In January 2020, just before the procedure, I wrote an email to four of the strongest Christians I know questioning God’s character, doubting His promises, and detailing how my faith in Him was shattering. Jake and I had prayed specifically and persistently over this baby’s life- its eyes, arms, legs, organs- every part. I wrote, “God doesn’t seem good to me… these promises feel like lies.” I admitted that my faith felt dead. I lamented with every word that I could muster up about how I felt like the God who told us He loves us, cares for us, hears and answers our prayers is not really who He says He is.
One friend’s response became my anchor: “Though the fig tree does not bud and there are no grapes on the vines, though the olive crop fails and the fields produce no food,… yet I will rejoice in the Lord.” (Habakkuk 3:17-19)
GLIMPSES OF GOD’S REDEEMING GOODNESS IN THE MIDST OF MISCARRIAGE
During my second pregnancy, I started preparing a safari-themed nursery, which seemed fitting, given that Jake and I’s relationship began in Africa. After the miscarriage, I couldn’t bear to look at the baby animal prints we chose. They were a painful reminder of what I had lost. But when my dear friend Kacie visited and shared her plans to adopt and use the same nursery theme, I gave her the prints, explaining about our losses. A small measure of healing came as I put a part of my grief behind me.
At that time, Jake and I also began considering adoption more seriously. I was desperate to be a mother and weary of waiting for my body to carry a child successfully. In early 2020, we looked into foster care and were told we had to be open to fostering, not just adoption. Reluctantly, we agreed.
In March 2020, just two months after my last miscarriage, we began the required online classes for fostering. Because of the Covid-19 pandemic, a process that normally took three months stretched into a year. I also needed more surgery for my endometriosis, adding to the delay. I had expected to be a mom by 2020. Instead, we were stuck in a season of waiting, confusion and pain, surrounded by what felt like an unending stream of pregnancy announcements by our friends.
Finally, in January 2021, I saw those two pink lines again. I began medication support and saw early signs of a healthy pregnancy. Then, on February 27th, 2021, Kacie messaged me- they had brought home their adopted daughter from the hospital. Then she began to tell me the details of placement. One of the reasons the birth mother had chosen them was because the picture of the nursery they included in their profile: those same animal prints I had given Kacie months before were the exact same prints the birth mother had used in her first child’s room.
That detail completely broke me. I wept as I told Jake. In that moment, I felt as though the Lord had graciously lifted back the veil half an inch for me to get a glimpse of how He had woven our suffering into someone else’s joy. A piece of my grief had helped build another family. This was just one of the many gracious ways the Lord slowly began to heal my shattered heart. That day in February would be used by the Lord to heal my heart in ways I could never have imagined…
LOVE IS NOT BIOLOGICAL, BUT IT IS IMMEASURABLE
Though I was pregnant, we continued pursuing our foster care license. We decided that if we were licensed before I hit 12 weeks gestation (a milestone we’d never reached), we would continue down the fostering path. We asked God that if He still wanted us to foster that the license would be granted before that specific date. We were officially licensed on March 16, 2021- eight days before that milestone.
The next morning, we got a call for a newborn placement- born on February 27th, the very day that Kacie had brought her daughter home. Could it be that on the same day I had been weeping over how my lost children helped bring home my friend’s daughter, our God was bringing our future son into the world?
As we accepted the placement, we were told not to grow too attached, as the goal for this child was reunification with his birth family. But from the moment I was handed this precious baby boy, my heart absolutely exploded with the love and affection I had been longing to lavish on a child throughout the last two long years of waiting.
It’s a strange sensation—carrying a child in your womb and also being handed another to care for, told to love and nurture it as your own until it is returned. Something in my mind and heart struggled to comprehend that this was not my biological child. I loved him so deeply it physically hurt. His cries didn’t bother me- I rushed to him, held him, fed him, cuddled him, kissed him, and…cried. I cried because I couldn’t imagine having to let him go. Losing a child in the womb was one thing—but this child? The one I bathed, fed, rocked, changed, and kissed every single day? How could my heart possibly survive a loss like that?
But I had to fight these feelings. I could not desire to take another woman’s baby—I refused to! I kept imagining myself in her shoes: the devastation of not bringing her baby home from the hospital, and instead having him sent to a stranger’s home, uncertain if he was being cared for or loved. So I focused on her, all the while falling deeper in love with this precious little boy. As my belly grew, so did my love for him. And as my love for him grew, so did my love for the mother who chose life for him. We emailed regularly, and I sent her photos often. She became like family to me.
That fall, I gave birth to our biological son- the child I had long-feared I might never meet alive. My heart had been guarded throughout this pregnancy, convinced that another loss awaited me. But on October 13th, our sweet baby boy arrived easily and safely. At first, I felt disconnected, as though I couldn’t fully believe he was real. Soon though, my heart was overflowing with love. Within one year, we had become parents to two boys- one through foster care and one through birth. God was faithful in both blessings.
The bond with our foster son only deepened, and the fear of losing him was overwhelming. The thought of him being torn from the only home he had ever known was unbearable. Every day, I prayed: “not my will, Lord, but yours be done.”
Finally, nearly three years after beginning our journey, and two and a half months shy of his third birthday, our foster son officially shared our last name. I wish I could say that moment brought total healing. But it didn’t. The truth is: not everything makes sense on this side of eternity. I still struggle with the pain our family has experienced. Yet, I’ve learned to trust God even when life feels cruel.
FIVE LESSONS THAT MISCARRIAGE TAUGHT ME ABOUT GOD’S GOODNESS
Throughout this journey, I’ve learned these 5 things about trusting God in every season:
1. I may never know why I lost my first two babies, but I can now see how God used that pain for good. Even something as small as four animal prints became part of a divine plan to bring joy to another family and a home for a sweet baby girl. Additionally, the pain I endured prepared me to embrace both my foster son and biological son with a depth of love I never thought possible. Sometimes, what feels like punishment or delay is actually a preparation for a greater good.
2. I cling to the truth that God did not create pain, miscarriage, or disease- these are consequences of a fallen world. Yet He will restore us to perfection when we are with Him in heaven.
3. Every loss, delay, and trial prepared us for the children we now hold. Our foster son would not have come to us without the miscarriages. Our biological son arrived at exactly the right moment, when my body and heart were ready. Both of their births were intricately timed- only God could orchestrate that.
4. Looking into the eyes of my two eldest sons—and now our third—I know God’s plan surpasses mine. I would not have wished for the suffering, yet His plan brought life, love, and family beyond what I could possibly imagine. God truly brought beauty from ashes.
5. I’ve learned that grief and joy can coexist. Parenting has required vulnerability, courage, and surrender- especially when loving a child who was not guaranteed to stay. God’s blessings often come wrapped in unexpected ways. Our losses were devastating, yet they made room for immeasurable love, both for our sons and for others whose lives we could touch.
Trusting God isn’t about understanding- it’s about believing He is still good. Even in the midst of miscarriage and loss, the goodness of God can break through. Loss and waiting are not signs of His absence, but of His perfect timing. Now, when I look into the eyes of my three little boys, I see God’s sovereignty, His mercy, and His love. I see how He redeems pain, how He knits together lives, and how He fulfills promises in His timing—not ours.
My story is a testament to the miraculous ways only God can turn sorrow into joy. This journey has deepened my understanding of His goodness. I now trust that even when life seems cruel or confusing, He is at work, transforming every trial into a tapestry of hope. The sin and brokenness in this world makes my heart yearn more deeply for heaven—where sin is erased, our bodies are perfected through the blood of the Lamb, and we are reunited with the ones we’ve lost. I will stand in awe and wonder as I gaze upon my Savior’s face knowing how He orchestrated all things for my good, even when I could not see it. Until that day, I will choose to trust Him and believe in His goodness.
About the Author
Vaida has been happily married to her husband, Jake, for 11 years. Together, they are raising three energetic boys, ages 4, 3, and 10 months. Vaida and Jake first met while serving on the mission field in Africa, where they discovered a shared passion for international missions. Today, Vaida works as a physician assistant caring for veterans and is an active member of her church in Winston-Salem, NC. She has a deep love for prayer, worship, and mentoring other women in their faith journey.
