It would be so easy to be angry right now: at God, at people with growing bellies, at little babies that I wish were mine – but I’m not. Truly, I am not. When all of this started to happen and we were fearing the worst, I texted two of my best friends who happen to be pregnant and I told them this: please don’t stop sharing your baby with me, I want to be a part of your story just like you’ve been part of mine. That bitterness just hasn’t hit, maybe it will, but I pray it won’t. I’ve experienced so many emotions these last few weeks, some of which I will probably share here! Don’t worry, my blog won’t turn into a miscarriage blog, but it is what we are living right now and for me, sharing is therapeutic, and hearing from so many other who have been personally impacted by miscarriage has changed my life.
I am not mad at God. Yesterday morning we stood in church, my hands on my growing belly that conveniently decided to “pop” over the weekend, and tears streamed down my cheeks as I sang “It is well with my soul.” Even though those words wouldn’t flow out of my mouth, I knew that soon (maybe not today) it would be well with my soul. Pastor Craig preached a message: it isn’t about what I am feeling, it is what I know to be true. My faith is something I share but I also hold dear to me. My relationship with God has had a lot of highs, a lot of lows, a lot of storms and droughts and somedays I just don’t even feel equipped to talk about because it’s been a somewhat messy journey that has led me here. After we first heard the “there is no heartbeat” words, I started praying, but I was surprised at my prayers: I wasn’t praying for my baby to live, I was praying for peace and understanding no matter the outcome. What used to be selfish prayers that had left my lips had turned into prayers that directed in trusting his will.
These next few weeks and months will be telling. I feel a sting when a baby commercial comes on, or Facebook tells me I should buy a crib, or when my pregnancy app congratulates me on another week pregnant, I feel frustrated that my body still thinks (and looks like) it’s pregnant, I feel nervous for Wednesday, I feel sad that my body can’t let go, I feel scared about how empty I will feel waking up in the hospital on Wednesday, I feel exhausted (so exhausted) from grief and hormones and all that we’ve tackled emotionally in a few weeks time, and I feel faith that God is bigger than all of those things I have listed above. At the end of the day, my Maker doesn’t make mistakes and while I feel pain and sadness, I feel peace that this story, this is bigger than the circumstance.
Over these last few weeks I’ve heard it all, those statements that sting: at least it happened early, it happens to more people than you think, there’s probably something wrong with the baby, everything happens for a reason, what can you do (yes, someone literally said, “what can you do?”) If you aren’t sure what to say to someone, please say this: I am sorry for your loss. Trust me when I say, anyone who is miscarrying or going through a miscarriage has probably spent hours pouring through information online, we know all of the ways it happens, why it happens, and how many people it happens to. We get that, but right now we are living it, grieving it, and it feels all consuming. Sure, we have heard it all but above those words, I have heard messages of hope, of strength, of a sisterhood of women who have experienced and lived through this. If my sharing makes just one person feel less alone or more accepting of this kind of loss, it’s been worth it. Please continue to pray for us, to allow ourselves to rest, heal, feel, but most of all know that we come from a Maker who makes no mistakes, and rest in the peace that our baby was loved every minute it existed. I will carry my sweet babe for another 48 hours and I will do my best to savor each minute of this belly that hasn’t stopped growing, even when the life did.