“Miscarriage is so common, it happens all the time.” I have heard this many times in the years since my first miscarriage, and again in the weeks since my second.
Yeah, I get it, this happens a lot. Does knowing this fact make it any easier? No. Does knowing this negate the horrible way I feel about it? No. Does knowing this stop the onslaught of tears at random times during the day? Nope.
In the weeks, months, and years since both, I have come to realize just how “common” it is and how many countless women it affects. As this news came out both times, I was absolutely stunned at the number of women who would tell me that they should have an 18-year-old, a 12-year-old, a five-year-old and so on. I was heartbroken for them and I cried with and for each one of them.
One of the (many) things that is hard about a miscarriage is that it is so unacknowledged as a loss. The fact that it is so common, (with most people feeling the need to bring that to your attention time and again) makes the women who experience it feel like it shouldn’t be a big deal. That they should just be able to get over it quickly and move on, that their reaction is due to hormones. But the thing is, it is a very deeply-felt heart-hurt that most people brush off with a comment like “Oh, you’ll have another baby,” among many other (usually well-meaning) gems that get thrown around. I’m not saying that this compares with losing a baby after 30 weeks pregnant, or losing a two-day-old, or a one-year-old or a seven-year-old or a 45-year-old, but it IS a loss and one that I will forever grieve.
That leads me to my next natural question, the big fat – WHERE WAS GOD? – question.
He is the author of life, so why does this happen so often? Why did this happen to me? Didn’t He know how much I loved and wanted these babies, MY babies? Why can’t I have them? Why can’t the other women who wanted their babies have them?
I wish I had a big revelation and could share something profound and inspirational that would give an eloquent answer and wrap all this up in a nice big bow that would make everyone who has ever experienced it feel better. But I can’t.
What I do know, and what I can honestly say, is that Jesus has been right there with me through these times. Maybe one day I will understand, maybe I won’t, but I know that God is still good and He does love me. In my comfortable life, I keep forgetting that He never promised that everything would be easy and that as Christians we would be protected from every bad thing. He actually said the opposite, that we would have trouble in this life but not to fear because He has overcome everything (John 16:33). We live in a fallen state and although God CAN stop bad things from happening, He righteously chooses not to all the time, but I would bet that He chooses TO more than anyone will ever know.
I entered motherhood through loss. Some women do. That loss colors every other pregnancy that happens after. I spent most of my second pregnancy being excited – yes, but also so nervous that I wouldn’t get to keep this one either. I did though. I did get to keep her. I have the most beautiful, fun-loving, sweet, smart and sassy little girl. She is the most incredible blessing from God. Having her does not alleviate the grief that I have for my lost babies, but it does make me that much more thankful to God for her.
I think that another part of what makes this so hard for me is that it is such an intensely personal hurt, one that assaults the very essence of being a woman, and one that I had no control over. I feel like my body utterly betrayed me. I’m actually embarrassed. My job, as a mom, is to protect, nurture and give life. That. Is. My. Job. I failed so miserably, not once, but twice and the pain and disappointment of that is overwhelming. I am the only one of my close friends and family that has had a miscarriage. That isn’t a distinction I love having. All of the other women who have conceived on my side of the family have had successful pregnancies. Every. Single. One. And I’m so thankful for that because I would NEVER wish a miscarriage on ANYONE.
It just makes me feel…Less Than. I feel like less of a woman, less of a wife, and for sure less of a mother. Just overall – less. The crazy thing is that I don’t feel that the other women I know who have experienced this (or who are unable to conceive at all) are lesser women. Just me. I am less.
Isn’t that exactly what Satan wants me to feel? The enemy has an exceptional hatred for women – for me:
The Evil One also hates Eve because she gives life. Women give birth, not men. Women nourish life. And they also bring life into the world soulfully, relationally, spiritually-in everything they touch. Satan is a murderer from the beginning (John 8:44). He brings death. His is a kingdom of death. And thus Eve is his greatest human threat, for she brings life. She is a lifesaver and a life-giver. Eve means “life” or “life-producer.” – John Eldredge, Ransomed Heart, A Special Hatred
That blew me away; it hit me at my core because I can actually feel that hatred.
Miscarriage has also hit me so hard because I believe that life begins at conception. It is the only thing that makes any sense to me. If life ends when your heart stops beating, then wouldn’t it make sense that life begins when your heart starts beating? And wouldn’t it further make sense that when two live cells meet and reproduce and start creating the heart that will start to beat in the six short weeks after conception, that those cells are living… as in ALIVE? So, it is loss. A loss of what should have been, what could have been.
I don’t believe that God makes mistakes. So if that’s true, wouldn’t that mean that even though I didn’t carry my babies to full term, that there is still a reason for them? I think there is. My babies, who I love so much, have a purpose from God and for God. That gives me hope.
I am struggling right now. I cry everyday. I will probably cry everyday for awhile. And I will continue to cry at different times throughout the rest of my life when I think of my babies in Heaven.
I know that God is with me and He is still good. And I know that I will get to see my babies one day… and that will be the best day.
[ts_fab authorid=”466″ tabs=”bio,latest_posts”]