The daylight looked all wrong for a June morning in Las Vegas. The sun should have been so bright I’d need to angle the blinds to keep it out.
Instead, it looked weak and pale, though there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. Turns out, the moon eclipsed the sun that day.
Just as sorrow eclipsed my soul.
Days earlier, twenty weeks pregnant, I’d received devastating news from my midwife. “I’m so sorry, but the ultrasound technician couldn’t find a heartbeat.”
She went on to explain something about fetal demise at seventeen weeks. I struggled to process her words.
No heartbeat. Fetal demise. That means… my baby is dead.
Now I was back home after the D&C, trying to get back on my feet. I was in a time warp, everyone around me rushing through their happy, ordinary days while I swam slowly through my hours trying to get enough air.
I felt decades older. Again.
This was my second miscarriage.
The depth of the loss of a preborn child is often greatly under-estimated. There’s no casket, no funeral, no memories to re-live. Yet this kind of loss is no less heart-breaking than losing someone we’ve known and held.
If you’re facing the pain of miscarriage, I’m so sorry. Your loss is very real. I hope you give yourself permission to grieve.
1. Let yourself grieve to sort through your emotions.
You may feel angry, numb or depressed. You may also feel:
- Confusion — others may fail to give you emotional support and may make insensitive remarks such as, “You can always try again.”
- Jealousy — situations like other women’s baby showers may be very difficult for a time.
- Guilt — you may wonder if you did something to cause the miscarriage.
- Doubt — you may question whether God loves you.
I found that it helped to journal, get honest with God about my feelings, listen to worship music, and talk to trusted friends. In these ways, I processed and released my emotions rather than stuffing them.
2. Let yourself grieve to honor your baby.
Your baby may have only lived for a few weeks or months in the womb, but he or she will never be replaced by another person. In the history of human beings, this one stands alone.
You may want to hold a small memorial service for your child, surrounded by a few close friends and/or family. The spoken words, cards, flowers and hugs from our friends were a tremendous help to my husband and I, and we were comforted by honoring our babies.
You may also want to name your baby. For my family and I, Tabitha and Benjamin are family members we look forward to meeting one day in heaven. I’m glad to think of them by name.
3. Let yourself grieve to receive and give comfort.
Suffering is part of life and can connect us deeply to God and other people. Giving others a chance to support us and meet our needs is a form of humility, and God promises to give grace to the humble (1 Peter 5:5).
He also promises he’ll comfort us in our hardships and enable us to pay that comfort forward (2 Corinthians 1:3).
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
When I stared at the eclipsed sun that day, floundering in my faith and trying to take baby steps forward, I never dreamed I would one day help grieving women at a pregnancy resource center.
You may be surprised at how this pain equips you to help others.
But for now … it’s okay to feel sad.
For further resources, visit mommieswithhope.com or www.naomiscircle.org, or visit a local pregnancy help center — find one at optionline.org.
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