Since the age of the Internet, it seems as though more and more women are having miscarriages. Of course, this is not the case. Women have been dealing with this heartbreaking loss for ages, it is just that women are becoming more and more vocal about it now. Older generations wouldn’t talk about it. It would be kept among immediate family members. These matters tended to be kept more private. That’s how I was when I had my first miscarriage. My family knew. My church knew but I didn’t like to talk about it much. I certainly never posted it on the Internet. Years went by and I would see friends post anniversary posts remembering their child but I never went that direction. Now, thirteen years later, I see a new generation coming up behind me and I realize that they need to know that if they are experiencing the pain of a miscarriage that they are not alone. Because that is exactly how I felt when I went through it.
Alone.
You see, at the time, I was surrounded by those who taught that if you have enough faith or live a perfect life then nothing bad will happen to you. So when this happened, it meant that I had sinned. The weight that this lie carried was hard but it couldn’t be further from the truth. The Bible says that “the Lord gives and the Lord takes away. Blessed be the Name of the Lord.” As women, we need to go into marriage understanding this. The Lord is in control of how many children we have and how long they live and we are simply responsible to raise them up in the ways of the Lord will he entrusts them into our care.
Even if it is only for three hours.
The evening of the my first miscarriage began with steady contractions. I was almost twenty weeks pregnant with my first pregnancy and I had never experienced anything like this before. We rushed to the hospital and shortly after arrival I gave birth to a little girl. We named her Elizabeth Amber. Some people might argue that it wasn’t a birth since I was only twenty weeks along but after giving birth five more times after that, I will tell you that it wasn’t any different. The only difference was, her little lungs weren’t developed yet so even though she had a heartbeat and was gasping for breath for a few short hours, there was nothing anyone could do for her. The doctors knew this so they placed her in a bin in the hallway for disposable. We were appalled. She was our baby, our daughter, and we wanted to spend as much time with her as possible. My husband went in the hall, reached in the bin and we took turns holding our little girl until her little heartbeat stopped. A kind nurse finally stepped in and helped us through the grieving process, as did some friends from church but overall, it was a dark, difficult day for my husband and I. No parent should have to fight to hold their child, even if death is inevitable. Holding my daughter, for those three hours, was the best decision my husband and I ever made. We now hold her memory in our heart. She was not just a clump of cells that my body rejected.
She was a child.
Our daughter.
She was the first to make me a mother.
Losing Elizabeth was the hardest pain that my husband and I experienced in our marriage. A loss like that can put a real strain on a relationship but we made it though. This year marks thirteen years since we met Elizabeth and on that day, thirteen years later I stood looking at my family of seven (five kids, my husband and I) amazed at the restoring power of God. We are living our dream on the mission field, as a family, serving the God who brought us through good times and hard times. He is faithful.
If you have recently gone through the pain of a miscarriage know that you are not alone. The Lord can and will help you through this pain. And, if you need prayer or encouragement as you walk through this valley, feel free to email me at thriftschooling@gmail.com.
