To the Moms Who Haven't Gotten to Be Mother’s
Happy (belated) Mother’s Day to those who lost their babies before they ever got to meet them.
This Mother’s Day was pretty much like any other, except my two best friends both texted me “Happy Mother’s Day” with some encouragement since they knew this Mother's Day was a little different than the previous ones for me. At first, I didn’t know how to receive those texts because I don’t feel like a mom. I obviously don’t have any children (here on earth), but if I really believe that life happens at conception, then I am a mom.
Psalm 139:13 “For you formed my inward parts; you knitted me together in my mother’s womb.”
Sometimes, if I’m being honest, I try to dismiss my miscarriage, but it all came to a head a couple weeks ago when a mentor of mine told me it sounds like I’ve been numbing my feelings. My anxiety was (and still is at times) at an all-time high. I guess I thought since I cried during the process of the miscarriage, that once it was over, I was done grieving. What would crying about it now do anyways? I can’t change what is. I don’t understand my emotions (or hormones if I’m being honest), but at times I still get sad.
Being sad doesn’t mean I don’t trust God’s plan and it doesn’t mean I don’t believe I will be able to have children when the timing is right, but some days are still hard. I think it’s hard on a different level than it was when everything was happening. For example, I can’t help but think about how I’d be showing by now if I didn’t lose the baby. I can’t help but recall the moment I thought I was going to see a heartbeat on the sonogram, just to find out it wasn’t there. I can’t help but have the thought of, “What if my body can never carry a baby to term” pass through my head. Do I fight these thoughts? Of course. Sitting in them is letting the enemy have a foothold in my life, BUT I feel like too many women don’t talk about this “Taboo subject” of early miscarriage because there are so many ways to write it off as no big deal, but it is a big deal and I’m starting to be okay admitting that (even though I still feel a little dramatic saying it).
When a woman finds out she’s pregnant for the first time, especially after she’s only seen negative pregnancy tests for months (or years) prior to, something happens in her heart. I can’t explain what it is, but you know you’re not taking care of just yourself anymore. You have been entrusted with another life and though God is ultimately in control, you have a lot of say in how this baby will thrive as it grows in your womb. I recently told my husband that I think part of what has been so hard about the loss is how I would talk to the baby everyday. This may sound cheesy, but I’d say things like, “We’re going to see daddy at work today” or “We just had a killer workout”. I know the baby couldn’t hear me yet, but emotionally I was all in.
I’m still trying to sort through what I’m feeling four months later, especially since my hormones are still out of whack. I had a friend tell me (who went through years of infertility and a few miscarriages before she had her son), “You don’t miscarry healthy babies.” That has kind of helped me, because babies who don’t make it to term (which is 1 in 4 for those who don’t know) were not developing right and this life would have been very difficult for them if they didn’t pass early.
One thing I’ve found through this process is what not to ask or say to someone going through an early miscarriage, and one of the main things is, “At least it wasn’t a full-term baby or a still birth.” I think that comment dismisses what a woman who had or is having an early miscarriage is going through. Believe me, I would bet money that every woman who has been through an early miscarriage has thought the same thing. The thought of losing a full-term baby is of course 10x worse (and for those who have been there, I am so sorry for your loss).
Loss in any form is a process and the Lord is allowing me to depend on Him all the more through it, especially in the waiting as our next pregnancy will come with a whole new set of fears (whenever we can actually get pregnant again).
Life can be hard, but it can also be beautiful. That’s the thing about living in a fallen world: We get glimpses of Heaven, but we also get the weight of sin. The hard things don’t dismiss the fact that God is good, but those things are still hard and we feel the weight of them. That’s why we should look towards what is to come: It’s a place with no more tears or sorrow (for those who have put their trust in Jesus). But until then, we are called to fight the good fight, through the ups and the downs, and trust God with it all.
