My girl: Zoe

The evening I realise I might be pregnant, it immediately dawns on me that the occasional pain in my side could mean it is ectopic. The possibility of surgery weighs heavy again, as it did two months earlier with my first miscarriage.

My husband prays for me and a heavenly peace fills me along with revelation that I am safe, no matter what happens. That my safety is 100% certain in God. What else is 100% certain? Gods love. I am sure of God's love. In my mind I turn this truth into a song lyric: "My safety's as sure as your love for me."

The next day I recognise at least three pregnancy symptoms. I am pregnant again. I don't know how I feel about that. My miscarriage was only two months ago. I surrender to God's plan. I am careful to cast down imaginations, to not entertain fear. Not to figure out the future. I have come so far since the last pregnancy. I thank God for his healing.

I am crying and crying that night. A deep conviction has come. I have been pushing away god's blessings and plans for me. I wanted squeaky clean perfection. Perfect kids, perfect friendships, perfect house, perfect everything. Perfection suddenly seems so sterile and cold, so empty of the rawness and randomness of life. God made creation so messy. I want to embrace messiness, it is where I find revelation, joy, grace. Perfection is sterile and empty, like a stark white laboratory. Why did I want it? I am so terribly sorry God. I embrace mess; I want it.

I take two tests. One that night, one at 4am. They are so faintly positive. But a faint line is a line. I am pregnant. My side is a little achy.

I don't sleep again. I write a song.

During the morning I briefly wonder what my baby's name is.

"Zoe". That came out of nowhere. I wonder if it was God or just a random thought. I have told myself I won't ask god for any details. I don't want to know.

"This is just a pregnancy to me, not a baby." I tell my husband.

I push the name Zoe from my mind but it won't leave.

I see the doctor the same day. He is not concerned about the pain, it is not a gynae pain. I am four weeks, two days pregnant.

"I welcome you baby. I love you. I welcome you for however long you're meant to stay." I say to my belly when I arrive home. I am expecting the baby to have a short stay.

We will see what happens.

A few hours later I begin to miscarry. Again. It happens to be pregnancy loss awareness day.

During the night I feel the sickness of death over me. I am crying. "Was I really pregnant?" I ask my husband. "Yes, you were."

I know life begins at conception but do I have a baby in heaven or is this pregnancy somehow empty of a soul?

Zoe. Did God give me that name or did I just think it up? I take the name into my hands. I tune in to Holy Spirit and put my mind to rest. "Zoe Grace." My first baby's middle name Hannah also meant grace.

Okay, I will look up the meaning of Zoe and see if it fits. I google it at 5:30am.



"You're joking." I say out loud in shock and awe. I cry knowing that this pregnancy is life. And knowing so deeply that it will bring me life.

My tears of grief flow strong and deep but God holds me.

Zoe Grace. For a moment I wasn't sure, but now I believe that you are my girl and I love you.