on having a miscarriage

photo-1452696024259-cb7474e79947 I found out I was pregnant on October 13th of last year.  I sat on the edge of the bathtub and  just stared at those two lines.  Those two tiny little lines that change so much of your heart in an instant. I was a hot mess, honestly.  My mind was running in about 72 directions as it was... and then this—this precious little life was here to join us.

Or at least that's what I thought.

Less than 24 hours later I started bleeding. & I knew. I just knew. I had lost our baby. It’s so utterly poignant to fall in love with someone and grieve the loss of them at the same time.  We lost our baby on October 15th which just happens to be National pregnancy and infant loss remembrance day. (We'll call this another sucker-punch to the heart)

I was told I had an early first trimester miscarriage and at some point baby stopped growing completely. That my pregnancy was not viable and that baby was ‘a small cluster of cells at this point'  and that my body would 'process it out just fine’ and ‘I’d be back to normal in no time’.  Cold, harsh, Un-human words were uttered to me and I literally sat there in silence. Completely unable to even form sentences—let alone come up for air from this suffocating reality.  That conversation was so hard for me.  My heart was screaming : No,you’re wrong! It wasn't just a cluster of cells,  those cells were perfectly orchestrated by God, made in His own image.  But my mouth said nothing. I was just silent— numb.

It's been said that grief changes you.  That you'll never be the same. But this? This shook me to my very core.  Motherhood suddenly felt distinctly different… standing in the shower sobbing— desperately pleading with God that this isn't really happening.  That I would suddenly wake up from this hellish nightmare.

The next day, I sat on the floor scattered in laundry that was washed a few days ago.  Not too far from there was a pile of dirty clothes— a pile of clothes I wasn't sure I was ready to wash. Because then it would start a process.  A process of dealing and grieving—a process I shouldn't have to start.

If I am honest?  I was bitter about it, and so much of me refused to even believe it was acceptable to process and grieve. Because what did I even have to grieve?  I didn't get to hear a heartbeat, or have ultrasound pictures, or a belly bump to hug.  All that I had to cling to was a stupid stick I peed on & memories of a few days.  And those days were riddled with sorrow.  I think maybe I was scared that one day I would forget those moments, and in that I would forget our baby.

Our due date came and went early this summer.  I should have been washing clothes and getting diapers prepared.  Making sure I had everything I needed to bring another precious human into the world—but I wasn’t.  I avoided the baby section in stores like the plague.  I had to mentally prepare myself to go there— knowing I would totally be the lady sitting on the floor in target, sopping up tears with a tiny onesie I had no intentions of buying.

Maybe you’re here too, mama.  Maybe you struggled to carry your baby, only to never have the chance to meet them.  Or maybe you met them, but they were gone incredibly too soon.

Maybe you’re desperately trying to become pregnant and can’t.  Can I tell you that I have so much love for your broken heart? I don’t know the depth of this pain and I am SO sorry.

Maybe you’re on the other side of this, and you made the choice to have an abortion, and now the guilt and grief is settling in- I don’t know this pain, but I do know that Jesus loves you so so much.

I really,truly want to speak truth over those silently dealing with this grief.

At first, we told no one.  Eventually we told our family, and a few close friends.  I didn't want to be baring my weak, shattered, anger filled heart to the world. No one deserved to witness this heartache, nor would they understand it.

To be honest, I am still not sure how to truly share my experience.  It’s hard to stand here, and declare that women should be open about their experience with miscarriage.  The initial mourning period is full of such raw, crushing personal emotions.  Without my savior there is no way I would have handled that with any sort of dignity.  Praise Jesus for his mercy and grace in times of severe grief.

I don’t necessarily believe that in sharing my story I'm going to drastically change the dynamic and understanding of miscarriage.  But I do hope to shift the perspective and encourage this to be something we talk about as women.  To be able to push past the awkward ( sometimes un-thought out & hurtful) responses, the 180-subject changes and uncomfortable stares.

I'm here to say that it is okay to not know how to respond.  The discomfort of listening to someone else’s grief will always feel intrusive, but it doesn't mean that stories shouldn't be shared.   To be able to open up this part of life is a huge thing- and it’s hard to not minimize the magnitude of this sorrow— because it’s not a common discussion in the world of grief.  It’s been said that it takes a village to raise a child.  I believe that it also takes a village to carry the burden of loss.  To be the pillar for a friend, who is walking through the lowest of valleys.  To be there through it all. I can’t tell you how many women have reached out to me with the hushed, whispered secret of “I have experienced this too,”  and it breaks my heart every time.

So mamas, please talk to someone if you think it would help. This pain is not meant to be dealt with alone.  The guilt and shame you might carry around with you has no place in this story.  The sorrow and heartbreak you carry-is not unknown, nor is it uncommon.  You are fully loved and fully known by Jesus.  He will sustain you through this.

When we are met in the face with utter sorrow— our faith is tested. We question, we doubt, we curse & we hide. Here I am a year later— still in the middle of a lot of this.  I am still grieving & I’m still processing. And God is revealing and teaching and shepherding my heart.  This part of my story is but a beautiful thread in his tapestry of Grace.

I am starting to see God clearly in this. How he is using my sweet Eden to teach me about HIS love for me.

God knows this world is a mess. He knows how filthy it is & he knows how painful it can be for us to walk through the mess of life sometimes.  why do I feel this?  I Look at his plan for Jesus. God— in His infinite power— had the ability to stop the suffering of his Son, Jesus Christ in an instant.  But he didn’t.  He watched his son suffer in agony for us! Big, fat sinners—who didn’t deserve any of it.  Sometimes, as hard as it is, we just need to see past our current pain and know that this will indeed be used for his glory.

I am getting to see just a glimpse of how much God loves us.

Am I crushed and utterly heartbroken my baby is not here in my arms, playing and growing with my other kids?  Absolutely.

But I can’t fully tell you how humbling it has been to sit quietly in the revelation that I have been given the ability to love deeply— that my heart aches and has the ability to unconditionally love my children because of God’s love for me. It’s more than anything I’ve ever known.  It’s everything.

If you have experienced any kind of pregnancy loss—miscarriage, stillbirth, abortion and would be so bold as to share your story, I would love to cover you in prayer today and moving forward and seek the Lord on your behalf for healing in your heart.