Personal Reflections in the Week Since My Miscarriage

Disclaimer: This was a strange post to write. I’m still trying to figure out my own feelings, but I wanted to write something for mommy’s to help normalize the grief that takes place after miscarriage. It is not to be taken as medical advice, but is simply me sharing my story.

On Friday, November 4th, I found myself in the Emergency Room with pregnancy complications. I was nervous and afraid – yet hopeful that the sweet little baby I carried for the last 12 weeks was still squirming in my belly. My husband sat next to me, acting as the rock of strength that seemed to be slowly seeping out of me. My 2-year-old son was a welcome distraction, taking my attention from the cramps I was experiencing.

Today was the day for our big pregnancy announcement. We finally hit the “Safe” 12-week mark and we were ready to share our news with the world. We had a photoshoot the day before, and I was simply waiting for the all-clear so I could post my photos. I didn’t expect that my first time sharing them would be after my sweet little pumpkin was removed from my womb:

After an hour of waiting, it was time for needles, ultrasounds and a million questions. I sat patiently awaiting the results, but on the inside I knew something was wrong. I began to bargain with God as they searched for a heartbeat. I told Him that if this went south I may decide to never have children again. In the most gentle voice, He challenged me: “So you would choose to bow to fear?”

Point taken.

Finally it was time for results, but the doctors face gave me the news I feared was coming. He told me there was no heartbeat and I was experiencing a miscarriage. I stayed strong for a moment, but as soon as he left the room I broke.

“Why can’t I be a normal 26-year-old woman with a body that works? Why do I always end up in the small percentage of people who weird things go wrong with,” I asked my husband with tear-stained cheeks.

I’ve always been grateful that my health is decent, but it’s also never been great. My frustration overwhelmed me and led to a temporary numbness. I was discharged and sent home to complete the miscarriage.

Saturday came with intense contractions that were similar to the pain I experienced in delivering my first child. Unlike Malachi’s birth, this delivery wasn’t going to lead to anything but pain. I didn’t have the strength or resolve to handle the increasing contractions and called my doctor for advice. She admitted me to Labor and Delivery for the night.

That night I delivered my little pumpkin. I was far enough along to actually see my baby after delivery. Seeing it’s little face and body did not hurt as much as it fascinated me – but that could’ve just been due to the concoction of pain medication swirling in my head. I had imagined and hoped for the delivery of a fully developed child. This little baby did not resemble what I had seen in my mind for so many weeks.

After surgery the following day I went home. I slept off the remaining anesthesia and pain meds and awoke a few hours later with a peace I could not explain (and with crazy hormones I could not control).

 – – – FAST FORWARD – – –

     In the week since having my miscarriage, I’ve had a wide range of emotions. Most of the time there’s a strange peace hovering over me that reminds me I am not alone. I feel the presence of God in a way I’ve never experienced before. He is mostly silent, as a shoulder I can lean on without having to talk more than I want to. He knows I prefer to stay quiet, and He seems to be okay with that.

About once a day, sadness will come over me. Normally it’s not because I feel like I’ve lost a child, but because I feel I lost an expectation. It’s a fear that I’m defective due to the autoimmune disease in my body, and that more pain is to come if I try for another baby. I realize these thoughts are not truth, and they always pass after a long shower or a good cry session.

Due to the crazy hormones in my body, I find that I don’t handle stress very well. My emotions tend to be exaggerated in comparison to situations; however, these mood swings don’t last long.

At the end of the day, I haven’t found a need to question God. I don’t understand the grace He’s given me, but I trust Him. I trust that He knows why all of this happened and I’m okay with not having answers. I don’t expect this to be the norm, and I believe it’s totally normal for a woman to question God after such an experience. It doesn’t represent a lack of faith, but rather a need for answers from the All-Knowing. Sometimes there just aren’t answers to find, and in those moments we must trust that God’s ways and plans are so much greater than our own.

God reminded me of an experience that has helped me to get to this point:

A few months ago, I remember sitting on stage looking at my team of Remnant members. I was in tears over the great honor God had given me to lead them. My team was encountering God’s presence in such a real way, and I realized that all of the pain of my past led me to this moment… In some way, I was responsible for the lives of these beautiful, cherished children of God. I remember praying quietly, “God, I’m so thankful you didn’t keep me from my hard past. Thank you for not intervening when I was abused or raped because if it weren’t for those moments I would’t be where I am today.”

Looking back on that moment, I have hope. I know that one day soon I will look back at the loss of my baby as an experience that has made me stronger and helped me to help others. God is amazing, and I refuse to turn my back on Him when He has loved me so perfectly. I refuse to bow to fear and will have another little love sometime in the near future if God will allow it.

I’ve never truly felt the “peace that passes all understanding” until this moment in my life. In some small way, that alone makes me grateful for my experience. I’ve learned about a part of God that I never knew existed until now, and I love getting to know Him in this way. There’s no explanation for how or why I am doing well, but I am. I’m not strong, but My God is the greatest superhero ever and His strength is so sufficient.

If you’ve experienced a loss similar to mine, know that you’re not alone. So many woman have felt your pain and we understand what you’re feeling. Reach out to someone. Talk to someone. Don’t suffer alone because isolation will only lead to depression. God’s love for you hasn’t changed and He’s begging you to run to Him in this moment. Don’t feel pressure to “just get over it,” and take the time you need for God to heal your heart.

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