When I scheduled a weeklong trip to China in March to visit my employer’s factories, I had no idea that I would soon be halfway around the world when my wife needed me most. On the fourth day of my trip, Lisa miscarried our third child. I cut the trip short to be with her, arriving back home Thursday.

That upcoming Sunday was Easter Sunday. We knew it would be different this year—different because the new life we were so excited about bringing into the world was over; different because Lisa was still bleeding and discharging tissue from the baby; different because we couldn’t look at our two beautiful, healthy girls again in the same way. But this Easter Sunday turned out to be more than just different. My wife shouldn’t be alive as I write this.

During the Sunday church service—six days after the miscarriage—Lisa began to complain about intense pains in her abdomen. We left early, but by the time we arrived home, Lisa’s car seat was a pool of blood. Blood was literally gushing out of her as she made her way into the house and into the bathroom. Our entryway looked like a scene from a horror movie.

We thought to ourselves, "Okay, this is just the rest of the baby, and then it will be over." But Lisa continued to hemorrhage. She began to grow weak, felt faint and had trouble breathing. I rushed her to the emergency room and prayed earnestly that God would give the doctors clarity of mind in treating her. No less than four hours later, after not allowing me to see my wife because they "had to run more tests," Lisa finally received a shot of Methergine--a drug that closes the uterus to help stop the bleeding--by the next doctor on duty. She had lost half of her blood supply. The previous doctor didn’t know what to do, and the OBGYN he was paging for help was too busy delivering two babies. Lisa overheard the new doctor saying, "Oh wow... With blood pressures this low she should have been in another land by now." Her blood pressure dipped below 80 over 40. God kept her alive, even as Lisa felt her life slowly going out of her.

That night, as the adrenaline wore off and I could breathe normally again, the realization of almost losing my wife hit me hard. I imagined my life without my best friend, and without the person my children need most. It was a lonely and empty feeling. I was in tears as I thanked God for her. My two-year-old whimpered in bed; she knew something was wrong with mommy. I thought of how sad it would have been if my little girls had to grow up missing the mommy they loved so much.

For the first week after returning home from the hospital, Lisa looked as pale as a ghost. She was on complete bed rest the first week, and she won’t be fully recovered for another two to three weeks. The bleeding has almost stopped, and her hemoglobin levels are slowly being restored to normal levels.

This has obviously been a difficult time for us. We are grieving the loss of our unborn child (who we know is in heaven), and are struggling with feelings of depression and confusion. But we continue to lean on the Lord and His Word for strength and hope, praising and thanking Him for everything. We don’t know why this has happened, but we know that God is good, that He loves us, and that there is no darkness in Him. He is love and light, pure and holy. He can only do right, and He will only allow trials in accordance with His ultimately good and perfect will.

We also know that God wants us to experience more of His grace and love through this difficult time. He is using this suffering as a tool to mold us into the Christians He wants us to be. It’s not a fact that tickles the ears, and it’s not something you hear often from popular Christian leaders and authors. But it’s true nonetheless.

The Lord Jesus will carry us through this valley to the next mountaintop. We don’t need psychiatric medications or therapy to help us cope, for we have the all-sufficient God, who meets all of our mental and emotional needs (2 Peter 1:3, Colossians 2:10). A few years from now, we will probably look back on this painful trial and see it more clearly, perhaps as a time of growth and preparation; of drawing closer to the Lord than we ever have before; of learning to never take each other for granted; and of living by faith and not by sight or circumstances.

Please pray with me for Lisa’s complete recovery, and that God would accomplish the work He wants to do in both of us.

Ryan Bazler