January 23, 2013- What’s in a Name? My Children Part 2

Some years after having my four wonderful children, I was listening to a radio program about healing after abortion.  I have never had an abortion, but I have had five, perhaps six miscarriages.  I had never thought much about my miscarriages because I understood and still do the verse in Job 21 that says,  “… The Lord gave and the Lord has taken away; may the name of the Lord be praised.”  However, on this day, one of the comments in the discussion caught my attention.  It had to do with asking God to reveal the name of the baby since he knew the baby before the foundations of the world.  I turned off the radio and began praying for YHWH to reveal the names of my miscarried babies.

My first miscarriage occurred after having two healthy babies.  It was a shock, but not one that emotionally destroyed me as happens with some women.  For whatever reasons, with each of my miscarriages, I had great peace and knew I was in God’s perfect will for my life.

My first miscarried baby’s name was Mary.  In Hebrew, Mary means ‘bitter.’  I have known quite a few Mary’s in my life, but my paternal grandmother came to mind immediately.  I didn’t really have a good relationship with my grandmother so I didn’t like that He had given that name to my baby.  Why couldn’t He have named her the Hebrew equivalent of Mary – Miriam?  She at least played the tamborine after the Israelites pass through the Red Sea.  Instead, I had a Mary.  A memorial to my ‘bitter’ grandmother who lived in ‘bitterness’ nearly her entire life because she had a child out of wedlock – my dad.  Her bitterness went deep as the father of my dad was a pastor of a Methodist church.  His wife was ill so he hired my grandmother to be a nanny for his children.  My grandmother  became pregnant during this time.  It was never known if she mutually agreed or he raped her.  Whatever happened, it changed her life forever.   It seemed that YHWH wanted her remembered with a name, but would not allow her ‘bitterness’ to infiltrate the next generation.

Being my first miscarriage, I was unsure of what was happening.  I went to my doctor.  After she examined me she said I most likely had a blighted ovum and would probably miscarry.  I remember looking at her and saying what Job had said millennia before, “Well, God gives life and God chooses to take life.”  Her expression was one of shock.  I asked her why she looked at me that way and she explained that she tells women every day that they are going to miscarry and they get angry and  blame her.  No one had ever said what I had said.  She was blessed.  I didn’t know it then,  but a journey with unborn children had begun.

Michael was my second miscarriage.  Michael means “Who is like God” in Hebrew.  He was also an archangel and according to Daniel chapter 10,  was the archangel who helped fight the prince of Persia so the messenger could deliver an answer to Daniel’s prayer.  This miscarriage happened quickly. I took a pregnancy test in the morning of one day and by the morning of the next, Michael was gone.

During that day, however, a friend came to visit.  She had been attending some dance classes at a Messianic congregation.  She wanted to start a little dance group at our church and asked if I would join.  She had given me the steps to a simple, traditional dance and wanted to teach them to me.  By the time she arrived at my house, I had already taught myself the steps and the dance.  So, as I miscarried Michael, we danced “As the Deer” together.  Truly, who is like God?

My third miscarriage happened at about 16 weeks.  I had already heard a heartbeat and like my other babies, I had started a pregnancy journal.  Her name was  Martha which means ‘lady’ in Hebrew.  I went to church on that Sunday morning very excited.  Our little dance group was dancing again during the worship service.  For an evangelical church, this dance group was a miracle.  After the service was over, we decided to dance a fast, hopping dance to words from Jeremiah 31, “As David Did”.

Later that day, I realized I was miscarrying the ‘little lady’.   I don’t believe it had anything to do with the dancing, but I know that the song was all about being a warrior  and celebrating victories.  The next day I had an appointment with my doctor.  She didn’t have good news.  There was no longer a heartbeat.  While driving up a dark, canyon road alone in my car, I did the only thing I knew how to do.  I began to worship through a Rich Mullins song, and with the words, tears flowed for my ‘little lady’.

“Oh God, You are my God and I will ever praise You

Oh God, You are my God and I will ever praise You 

I will seek You in the morning  and I will learn to walk in Your ways 

And step by step You’ll lead me and I will follow You all of my days.”

Rachel. Little ewe lamb.  She was the beloved wife of Jacob who gave him two sons: Joseph and Benjamin.  With the birth of Benjamin, Rachel passed away.  For me, Rachel was more than a simple fourth miscarriage.  She developed into a molar pregnancy.  Without going into details, my doctor thought I was carrying twins because I expanded so quickly.  Instead, my body decided to create a tumor around a failing placenta.  With all of the dying going on in my body, I became deathly ill.  It was discovered that I had a Hydatidform mole and I went immediately into surgery.  During the recovery process, it was found that the mole had been malignant and cancer cells were still in my body.  I needed chemotherapy.   My three-month journey of healing through the ‘lamb’ became a testimony not only to my doctor, but to all the nurses who had to take my bi-weekly blood tests and administer chemotherapy.  It actually changed the course of my doctor’s career.  After the birth of my third child, Jacob, she stopped doing abortions.

Then, I had a fifth miscarriage.  Her name was Rebecca and in Hebrew means ‘snare’.   Rebecca was the wife of Isaac who had a sense of adventure – a willingness to leave her home and family to marry a man she had never met!  This particular miscarriage happened early like Michael, however, I found out the sad news at the doctor’s office.  My 6-year-old daughter was with me at the time because she wanted to hear the heartbeat of her little brother or sister.  There was nothing.

I have considered the relevance of ‘snare’ because of its suggestion of capturing an animal.  Yet, I could not understand how that fit into having a baby.  So I decided to look up ‘snare’ in a dictionary and found one of the meanings to be a device for surgical extractions.  That’s when I understood.

All of my previous miscarriages, except for Michael, had been ‘snared’.  In other words, I allowed my doctor to do a DnC for extraction.  The first one was terrible, the second one I requested to be ‘out’, the molar pregnancy had to be full-fledged surgery.  Sometime during all of these miscarriages I became convicted of just allowing the baby to be born – not ‘snared’.  And so with Rebecca I chose to allow her to be born.

She arrived two weeks after the doctor’s appointment with an adventurous labor and delivery.  My young daughter was with me again as we were preparing to host a baby shower at a friend’s house.  I had to drive one hour home through a mountainous canyon  in labor with a six-year-old coaching me through each contraction.   Sadly,  I was not mentally astute at the moment Rebecca was born and she was not given a proper burial.

After being given all of the names of my unborn children, I noted something peculiar.  None of them had J-names.  We had named all of our living children with J-names: Jesse, Josi, Jacob, and Jemima.   I asked the Lord, “Why are there no J-names?”  His response, “I gave you the J’s.”  At that moment I had a silly vision of five beautiful blonde-haired children all about eight years old sitting on a cloud tickling and punching each other in crazy, but imp-like way.

As time has passed in my life, two more unborn children entered my heart.  As I was not a moral young woman, I decided to go on the birth control pill so I would not get pregnant being immoral.  One time while playing frisbee with my future husband, I felt as though I was suddenly pregnant.  It was the weirdest feeling that I had ever experienced.  I told him I thought I was pregnant and he commented that I couldn’t be because I was taking ‘the pill.’  I didn’t completely agree and noted a more intense period that month.

Several years later when I became pregnant with my firstborn, I had the same exact sensation.  It was then that I knew that even though I had been on the pill, I had become momentarily pregnant.  The birth control pill makes the womb’s environment antagonistic for a developing baby which is why I most likely miscarried with my next cycle.

What was that baby’s name? It was only when writing this little piece that I realized that God gave me her name many years ago, but I didn’t know why because I wasn’t having more children.   The name was Hadassah.  As a Jewish woman, she faced persecution and certain death for her heritage.   Yet, she exemplified great faith and courage and brought salvation to her people.   I believe YHWH gave this name to this baby because he knew that since I was a little girl I loved the Jewish people.  He knew before I did  that this very day I would understand my connection with Hadassah – her faith, courage, and the desire to bring salvation to the Jewish people.

Hadassah is Hebrew for Myrtle Tree.  There is a man who stands among the Myrtle trees and prophesies about the nations’ false peace and of YHWH’s mercy and overflowing prosperity for the restored Jerusalem in Zechariah chapter 1.   There is another unborn baby who has a special place in my heart.  His name is Zechariah.  In Hebrew, Zechariah means “God has remembered” which can also mean that God has not forgotten.  I cannot share details about this little boy, but God uses everything to His glory. Even the shortness of  Zechariah’s little life has brought restoration to a rebellious soul, a wondering soul, and a grieving soul.

Not long ago a Facebook friend friend nearly lost her daughter.  She was playing in a park and disappeared.  After a long and frantic search, her daughter appeared.  Several nights later she had a dream about her young son who died by drowning.  She dreams about him frequently, but she is never allowed to touch him.  In her dream she she meets a young boy named Zechariah.  He is obviously friends with her son, James.  Zechariah runs to her and hugs her which her own son could not do.  Then James begins to tell his mom that when his sister was lost in the part that it was Zechariah who found her and brought her back to his mom.  My friend cried because she realized her son was not alone and blessed to have Zechariah as a friend.  When she woke up she felt the Lord tell her to tell me about Zechariah in her dream.   She didn’t know why, but she obeyed and contacted me.  She never knew anything about a Zechariah in my life until that very day and telling me opened the door for her to be set free from her past and look forward to her future – the birth of her daughter, Menorah Grace.

©2013 Tent Stake Ministries

What’s in a Name? My Children Part 1 – The names of my children and our walk of faith

 

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