What My Two (Babies in Heaven) Miscarriages Taught Me About Hope

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By Alli Kalina

In the depths of grieving yet another miscarriage, my husband gently posed a question that shook things up in my spiritual life. After expressing to him that I felt hopeless and like God had abandoned me, he delicately asked me, “What’s your hope in?” 

I slumped into our old, sunken couch and thought to myself: “What was my hope in? What even is hope?”

I’m a convert, and the Lord brought me home to the Church my freshman year of college. Despite being one of those “on-fire converts,” spending two years after college as a FOCUS missionary and three more years as a high school youth minister, I quickly realized that my hope was rooted in fleeting things. Even after nine years as a practicing Catholic, my idea of hope was wishful thinking or optimism about my earthly future.

I was hopeful that I’d find a job when I graduated from college. 

I was hopeful that I’d meet a handsome young man whom I’d someday get to call my husband. 

I was hopeful that we’d have lots of children! 

From the outside looking in, I seemed pretty “hopeful!”

But when faced with suffering — like the gut-wrenching loss of our second baby — I had to answer this question honestly: What was my hope in?

Was my hope in the material things and personal relationships that I wanted in this life?

Was my hope in the wishful expectation that my “good” and “holy” desires would be granted to me like wishes to a genie?

Was my hope in what I thought the Lord owed me for being faithful to him?

Sadly, when my husband asked me this simple question, I had to confront all of these other questions. I had to wrestle with the reality that, as good as my desires for this life may be, the Lord does not guarantee them. It’s admittedly easy to mix up our holy desires with the abundant life the Lord promises us (cf. John 10:10). As I sat with these questions, I caught myself repeatedly insisting, “But the Lord will fulfill all of his promises!”

I reflected on this in prayer recently: “What does the Lord really promise me?” He doesn’t promise me that I’ll get everything I desire in this life — even if my desires are good and righteous. He doesn’t promise me that I’ll never be sad or that I’ll never experience deep sorrow. He doesn’t even promise me that I’ll get to meet my children on this side of Heaven. But he does promise me Heaven if I say “yes” and follow him (cf. John 11:25, 14:1-3). If my ultimate hope was anchored in anything other than this promise of Heaven, then it was no wonder my hope felt so fragile.

The Catechism of the Catholic Church defines hope as “the theological virtue by which we desire the Kingdom of Heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ's promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit” (CCC 1817).

Hope is the virtue by which we desire the Kingdom of Heaven and eternal life as our happiness.

When I read this, ashamedly for the first time last summer, I was shocked — again. I was shocked by my naiveté, embarrassed by my lack of vision and disappointed by what my hope had been rooted in for the last nine years. 

Hope is the virtue by which we long for eternal life with God. This is the source of our happiness! This is the source of our joy! I had been placing my hope in things that weren’t guaranteed, so of course I felt shattered when those things didn’t happen or, worse, when they fell apart before my eyes. I was placing the source of my happiness in finite things, and in doing so, I was putting my hope for eternal life on the back burner.

Now, I do want to be clear really quickly. It’s good to hope for good things! The Lord does indeed desire good things for us. He only desires good things for us. The desire for children is a good and holy thing to hope for, and it’s an appropriate and holy response to be crushed by the loss of a child. However, when our good hopes become our ultimate hopes, then they can distract us from the end for which we were created. This is just a reminder to let first things be first.

So, while Tanner and I continue to hope for children and dream of being parents someday, we don’t let our hope end there. We try to keep our eyes continually fixed on our eternal destination. 

At a time when I thought my hope was shattered and gone, our two babies reminded me of the hope that never disappoints — our hope in Heaven. And, because of them, I now hope for Heaven all the more.