I’m not sure how to begin.
How do you tell a story that’s deeply emotional and extremely personal? One that seems almost impossible to put into words.
Yet, I’ve felt for a while now that writing it down is important. For my own healing. And maybe for someone else’s too.
To show that grief during pregnancy loss is a necessary part of the healing process. And that hope after miscarriage might look different than you think.
So, I choose to share my story. Even though it’s difficult. And even though I’m not even sure how to go about about it.
But I guess the best way to stary any story is at the very beginning…
Starting a family…
My husband and I were almost 30 when we got married. While we didn’t want to have children right away, we both wanted a big family. So, we realized having kids would need to come sooner rather than later.
We began trying to conceive after we’d been married about two years. We got pregnant very quickly and had our first baby girl nine months later.
We started trying for another baby when our oldest was a little over a year. Again, pregnancy came easily and we welcomed girl number into our family.
And then life happened.
We faced a number of challenging circumstances. From career stress to financial struggles to health concerns, we went through an extremely difficult season.
As much as we wanted more children, we knew the timing wasn’t right.
So, we waited.
When our youngest was around three, we decided we couldn’t wait any longer. Life still hadn’t completely smoothed out, but we also weren’t getting any younger.
We knew time wasn’t on our side.
So, we started trying again.
In for a surprise…
Obviously, we were a little bit older. And we had both experienced different health issues since having our first two kids. But we still didn’t expect what happened next.
Month after month went by with no pregnancy.
After conceiving our girls so easily, this was new territory for us.
So, we upped our game. I kept records of my cycle and basal body temperature. I used ovulation kits and charted everything.
We were sure our efforts would lead to a third little one soon.
But we were wrong.
Still no pregnancy.
Months turned into a year. And then two.
Then one day, my body showed different signs. I’ll spare you the details, but suffice to say I knew something was wrong.
A visit to my doctor and a few blood tests confirmed my suspicions.
I’d had a miscarriage.
Out of control…
To me, the most surprising thing about the miscarriage was my emotional reaction. It happened so early, I didn’t even know I was pregnant.
Yet that knowledge didn’t change the deep grief that came in waves over the next few weeks. It was a difficult thing for me to wrap my mind around. How could I miss something I didn’t even know I had?
But, the fact that I couldn’t explain it didn’t make it any less real.
The other surprise was the hormonal swings that immediately followed the pregnancy loss. My hormones were out of control.
One minute I was fine, the next I was dissolving into tears. I would go from okay to depressed and back to okay in matter of hours.
My best guess is that getting pregnant and then losing the baby so quickly messed up my hormones in a big way. Regardless of the reason, the uncontrollable emotions on top of the heavy sadness made it one of the most difficult weeks I’d every experienced.
Despite the war going on inside of me, I hesitated to really grieve.
For several reasons.
No room for grief…
I’d heard countless stories of miscarriage. So many moms who had lost babies well into pregnancy. Moms facing heartbreaking losses that I knew I could never comprehend.
And then there was me…I had lost a baby I didn’t even know about. How could my grief even compare to those other precious mamas?
So, I reasoned that it might be better if I just kept all those feelings inside…
On top of that, my father-in-law had been battling cancer for almost a year. A battle that he was losing.
Around the same time as the miscarriage, our family was told that he was out of options. He didn’t have much time left.
We lost him about a month later.
As my extended family, husband, and two little girls grappled with the loss, I knew I had to be strong.
There was no room for my own grief. Or at least that’s what I thought then.
A second blow…
Along with the miscarriage and loss of my father-in-law, it seemed we were entering another difficult season. My grandmother passed away a few months after my husband’s father.
My husband was facing some significant health challenges. We had relocated to another area of our city and were having trouble finding a house to purchase. And my husband’s job seemed to be getting more stressful by the day.
So, we decided to take a step back from our desire to grow our family. We spent the next several months in survival mode. Trying to recover from the blows we’d been dealt. And move on with hope for better days ahead.
It wasn’t an easy road. In fact, it’s a whole other story in itself. (You can find that story here.)
But, after a while, we got our feet back under us.
And decided it was time to try for that baby again.
This time the difficulty conceiving wasn’t a surprise. But that still didn’t make it an easy road to walk.
About a year and a half after the first miscarriage, we had another one.
And while many of our external circumstances were different, I still struggled to grieve appropriately.
Just like before, this miscarriage happened very early. And just like before, I didn’t know how to handle that. Finding hope after miscarriage was proving increasingly difficult.
My hormones went crazy again. And the grief was compounded by the heartbreaking cycle of infertility and miscarriage we’d been on for three long years.
I was weary.
And overwhelmingly sad.
But again, I buried the grief and tried to move on.
Struggling to hope again…
As time wore on, I began to realize my response (or lack of it) to the loss of our babies was not healthy.
And to be honest, I probably knew that all along.
But not dealing with it was easier than trying to figure out what to do.
And that brings us to the present.
Almost four years and two pregnancy losses later. Still trying to figure out exactly how to process it all. And move on with hope after miscarriage.
And while I definitely have a lot of healing left to do, I’ve learned a thing or two throughout my journey.
Every story matters…
Every woman’s miscarriage story is different.
But not one is insignificant.
And each journey has one thing in common…grief.
Losing a baby before you even know you’re pregnant can’t possibly be as gut-wrenching as losing a baby when you’re further along.
But that doesn’t mean the grief isn’t real. And extremely heart-breaking.
You still have to give yourself freedom to walk through it.
Every mom will handle that grief differently. But burying it inside in hopes it will just go away isn’t the answer.
The bigger picture…
Another lesson I’ve learned is that my hope has to be in the right place.
Or person, to be exact.
And that person is Jesus.
If my hope is in another baby or a bigger family, I’ve missed something.
Because as beautiful and worthy as those dreams are, even the miracle of life can’t compare to the Creator of life itself.
Staying focused on Him isn’t easy when your prayers seem to go unanswered or heartbreak repeatedly knocks at your door.
Believe me, I know.
But in the end, He’s the only one who can bring lasting comfort. He’s the only source of true peace.
And resting in Him is the only way to really heal and find hope after miscarriage.
Find more encouragement in these “20 Verses of Comfort in Loss and Grief.”
Hope after miscarriage…
I’d like to tell you we’re now expecting. I’d love to share that our family has grown.
But I can’t.
At the time of this writing, we’re still trying for another baby.
We’ve been through multiple tests and have more waiting. We’re still searching for answers and praying for a miracle.
Some days are hard. Others are unimaginably difficult. And pretty much every day I feel a little bit sad.
But I’m learning to be okay with that.
To embrace the grief as it comes. To experience the waves of emotion without shame.
And through it all, to keep my eyes fixed on my Savior.
Whatever He has planned for our future, I trust Him.
And I know He’s right there with me…in every sad and joyous moment that is to come.
Have you walked a similar road? How did you deal with grief and hope after miscarriage? Sometimes healing can be found by simply sharing your heart. I’d love to hear your story in the comments below.
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