4 Years Post-Miscarriage
Yesterday was a tough day. It has been a tough week…shoot, tough few months if I’m being honest! Many of you saw (and sweetly encouraged my heart —thank you for that) my post yesterday about losing my baby girl 4 years ago.
I remember for years watching a woman I knew post things like that on the anniversary of her child’s death. Or when she was grieving and I remember being really judgmental and thinking she must not be giving her grief to Jesus because she keeps posting like that. Now, as a mother that has lost, I understand. And now I wonder why she didn’t post MORE. I think about the restraint she must have had to not grieve publicly more often.
Because the pain of losing a child at times is too much to bear.
And it is a lonely, lonely grief journey.
I have heard it all.
“At least you have 3 other children to be thankful for.”
“You can always have another one.”
“At least you lost yours early and it wasn’t stillborn or you didn’t have them for a few years and then lost them.”
“Miscarriages happen every day. It’s no big deal.”
“I had a miscarriage and it didn’t bother me that badly.”
“There was something wrong with the fetus so that’s why it didn’t survive. It was God’s way of clearing the pregnancy out.”
“You didn’t clean up your generational line or you partnered with something demonic and that is why you had a miscarriage.”
For years I felt like I was responsible for her death. If I’m honest I think there’s still a part of me that feels that way. I am still grieving. Still healing. Still undoing lies that I believed about that situation.
I have been raging for a week or so now. Couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. Last night I realized why. I saw memories from my Facebook and remembered. I knew the day was coming up but wasn’t sure exactly what day.
My body knew though.
What they don’t tell you about miscarriage is that your body still acts like you were pregnant and delivered and you still have to heal as if you actually had a baby.
Even if my mind tries to forget, my body remembers. My body remembers stretching to make space for a baby. My body remembers the life. And some of the stretch marks I carry on my belly are remnants of her. I still carry her DNA inside my body, because moms and babies share all that you know.
My body remembers and my grief begged to be let out. To honor her and remember her. To admit that once there was life and now there is none and that is crushing this side of Heaven.
Oh but in Heaven she is perfect. Renewed. Restored to her full glory. I don’t have to try to make sense of it here. I just need to acknowledge that it happened and tell the story of God’s goodness in the midst of the pain. To share how we lost, and then He provided a rainbow baby. Not to replace a life, but to enrich ours. To give us a rainbow to focus on after the storm.
And that’s how I feel today. Like even though the clouds are still all around and everything is hazy and there are still some drips of rain, there’s still a rainbow in the sky. Might be dim, but it’s there. So today I rest.
“Be at rest once more, O my soul, for the Lord has been good to you.” -Psalm 116:7
I believe that only when we have honored the grief process and truly felt the sting of loss, only then can we enter into true faith by saying “The Lord has been good to me.” We must acknowledge the hard in order to see there is also good.
You give and take away but my heart will choose to say Lord blessed be Your name.
Amen.
-Nikki
