I wish I could do SOMETHING to proclaim to all the women I love that they should start to prepare their hearts for this possibility... to shout from the rooftops a battle cry telling them to put on their strongest and most faithful emotional armor for this maybe-someday misery. But I cannot. This maybe-someday misery is a deep sadness than rips through the soul. It is a wound that most are not called to bare. It is a battle that a small army must fight in the trenches of everyday life.
It is a silent grief that is untrainable. We all spend time thinking about death of our loved ones. We all know to prepare for losing our grandparents, parents, siblings, and even spouses someday. We never, however, remember that losing a life before it lives can happen, too.
We cannot be prepared. I was painfully unprepared.
Honestly, I do not know who I am writing this to... just that I am writing thoughts that have swirled through my head for one month and two days. If you find yourself needing to not feel alone and silent in this heartbreaking season, I pray these words reach that target for you.
All I have ever dreamed of is to be a wife and a momma. Sure, I have so many other big dreams and passions and purposes in this life. But the deepest dream of my heart that I have held dear is to have a family. I cannot tell you how many times I have surrendered this dream over to God. I cannot tell you how many tears I shed over the surrendering. I walked across my university stage with no ring by spring. I surrendered to God the dream of being a wife. I walked through four years of singleness as I began to build my teaching career.. and surrendered the dream over and over again in those years of waiting. I moved across the state and surrendered the dream again as I dedicated whatever years God had for me in that specific ministry role. I surrendered the dream of being a momma as I stepped into loving and thriving in ministering as a single woman. I surrendered those dreams so many times after my sinful heart took them back into my own hand that I lost count.
And then, when I had no inkling of what God was doing in my heart, gave me my husband in a way that not even Hallmark could write. After 10 years of praying and tears and surrendering and knowing God more and more, I became a wife. And oh! How sweet to see God's goodness and timing. I can see His hand so clearly in the waiting and longing. Ebenezers of His faithfulness are strewn across our lives in abundance!
And then a positive pregnancy test came? I could not believe God's goodness! I could not believe that my dreams were given a green light. I wasn't going to argue, no sirree. I was praising God with all that I had! You see, my life is a series of God reminding me that my plans are not HIS plans. It is actually comical in the ways that the most reasonable and "no-duh" plans we make as humans have gotten tossed around for me. They always work out far greater than I could have ever imagined, don't get me wrong. Each time, though, my friends and family chuckle as I have to follow God in a new direction with a bewildered expression on my face. My life motto has become, "Welp... I'm sure it will be an adventure, though!"
Ryan and I were ecstatic to be parents! We told our family and closest friends at Thanksgiving. We left our 8-week appointment with a healthy baby and a detectable heartbeat. We told our school staff and then our students. We reached out to more friends with the good news before posting it online. And in the midst of telling those friends, I woke up with more than just normal first trimester spotting.
I cannot put my mind back into that stupid tiny room in the E.R. without crying. The pain of having medical professional after medical professional being called in to look at the ultrasound image, hearing the words, "I'm sorry, there is no heartbeat." and the memory of devastation in Ryan's eyes as we both let go of the last shred of hope for our baby is a pain that I will never be able to forget.
Walking through how God has been leading me through processing it all that week is for another day.
Today is to break through the silence of a grief we don't speak of until it's too late.
In my most honest depths of my heart, I admit that I would never choose this. I admit that I feel foolish for believing I was finally given my dream the first try. I told Ryan this week, "Whoever said, 'It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved.' never had a miscarriage."
I was finally honest with myself and with my God about how I'd rather I had never gotten pregnant than lose my baby. With that prayer of honesty was a desperate plea for God to heal my broken heart and show me His love and His purpose through this. And my God is GOOD and He DOES answer prayers... even if it's not how I tell Him He should answer them.
In this honesty with God and with Ryan about where I actually stood, I finally took off the strong-Christian-girl mask I've convinced myself to wear. Sure, I tell people it's not all okay. I "open up" about what God is doing and how I've been doing. And I am okay. Truly. I am sad and will have so many sad moments. I miss my baby more than I thought possible. I cry. A lot. But I've also convinced myself that I trusted God. Until he showed me, loudly, that I was not truly trusting Him.
The funny thing about this sad season I find my family is this--Each day I have been given rest and quiet and stillness to know who God is. I have had the sweetest time in the silence learning God's heart more and more. His Word has become so alive as I've studied and worshipped over the past weeks. But as I look back, instead of silence, I hear His battle cries fighting for me and for Ryan. In the first week of grief, I so strongly felt the hedge of protection He placed around us and I so strongly felt the shields of prayer that we were covered in by countless people. He truly hid us in the shadow of His wings.
But He has, loudly, called me out of those wings to fight with Him now. His voice is booming as He heals and restores. He is shouting His truth reminding me of His goodness and faithfulness. He is teaching me His love and presence and the hope that provides over and over again.
I no longer wish I never was pregnant. My baby is a part of that roar that is declaring His glory and love. While I definitely would rather have my baby on this earth AND in Heaven, I now see how precious it is to know that Ryan and I will be holding this Butterfly Baby in our arms for all of eternity. And what is 60 years on this earth compared to eternity? I still do not understand why this child will not be in my arms in July, but I have found peace and hope in this.
His ways are not my own. I imagine I have much to learn on this, even with my miscarriage journey.
And it is a journey. There are many footsteps already on this road. I praise God for the dozens of women who have turned around to find me further back on this path so they could carry me through the hardest parts.
Dozens of couples who I never knew experienced this loss. My family has walked it over and over again... and I cannot be more grateful for their hugs and tears and support.
Seeing how God has restored and used each one of them pushes me onward.
Maybe you're reading this because you're just curious about how we are doing. But maybe you clicked this article because your heart is trying to understand why your baby is not in your arms on this earth.
If the latter is you, all I want you to know is you are not alone. We are greater in number than any will ever know. It doesn't take away the pain, but it gave me hope to see that someday we will be okay.
I'm choosing to not let this be silent. I get it. It's awkward and hard. It's a highly sensitive topic. And it is crazy scary if you have babies at home in your arm, but your sister or friend has only a memory of a dream. Please know, I don't wish any of you to know this path. I simply wish to help break the silence with the Gospel.
Hug her. Text him. Send them food. Buy them snacks and grab-and-go fruits and veggies.. they're definitely not eating enough of those because it takes too much mental energy to prep. Probably their milk is spoiled, so a gallon of that would be perfect, too.
Send the sweet ornaments and birth month jewelry to keep their baby close in the everyday and when they'll be missed on the holidays.
What these parents need is for their baby to be loved and remembered by the people they love.
Love them.. perfectly or imperfectly. Weep with them. Ask them if they need to talk or just be with you. Assure them that they ARE momma and daddy to that sweet baby.
And if you're on this miserable road right now, be bold and share with the women who surprise you. Let them love on you, because they understand your pain.
I never want this part of my life to be talked about more than Jesus and the hope we have in Him. However, I don't want to let it be an untrainable, silent battle for the church anymore. God, in His great mercy, dropped Ryan and I right into a church that has a heart and resources for couples who get this unimaginable news. The reality is, we are all being trained: either to walk this journey in light of the gospel that God has breathed into us, or to carry our brothers and sisters through the depths of despair when they have no strength to get out of bed.
We won't run into this grief all the time. But when we do, it will be a hurricane that hits out of nowhere. Root yourself in the Gospel and pray for God to loudly speak when it is time for you to boldly move.
If you've lost your sweet baby, be still. God is there. Rest in the protection of His wings. He did not bring you here to leave you here.