There's not a neat little place where they can put us. There is no tidy package or perfect category we fit into. It's not something readily discussed unless you find yourself in it, then people come out of the woodwork who have also experienced it, come from every corner to commiserate with you, to encourage you, to press on with you. The thing about it is, it's a private and deep hurt, not OK to talk about. If you do talk about it, it is often looked on by those who have no clue what the hole now there is like or that it even exists, as dramatic or something to get over quickly, move on, it isn't THAT big of a deal. Come on, you were only ____ weeks. That is how it feels anyway.
Oh, people are well intentioned. Friends are also well meaning. The nature of this sadness though is that you don't get to actually hold a baby. You don't lose a baby at birth. You don't get to or have to, however you look at it, bury a child. So, the loss is looked at as less. Now I am in no way comparing my sadness to anyone else's, regardless of the validity or lack thereof. I am simply saying there is room for the grieving mother who buries her stillborn and feels that horrendous loss, (and there well should be of course) but there does not seem to be room for those of us who loved our child from the start as well, but didn't get to have as much time in the womb with him or her. You see, a miscarriage is also a death. It is also the loss of a child. You never get over that because you would never get over losing your child. And while the longer you have your child, be it in the womb or hopefully into life, your love only continues to increase and grow as that child grows, that's just the thing: you still greatly loved your child, no matter how brief the time. Most people don't get that though about a miscarriage. And so you get lots of, heart-in-the-right-place, friends, who not only do not understand or get it (which you can not ask or expect them to)but have a shelf life of their own already attached to your grief. They have their own idea of when you should be back to normal and the sadness should be gone. Of course that is going to be different for everyone because we are all uniquely created, but each grieving person has there own time. It may be different, may be longer, may be shorter, than what you think it should be. That does not matter. You are not the issue in this. You are irrelevant. To be a good friend despite not fully understanding this hurt, you need to leave room for us to grieve, however length of time it be. You need to leave room for us to not be ourselves for awhile. You need to leave room for us.
I guess I am finally writing about this old wound and notch on the staff of my life because it is just time. It has been nearly three years and the hurt of the wound is healed. Sure, fresh emotion can be attached to it, were I to travel down memory lane, or even every time I hear the song "Glory Baby," by Watermark. However, while the pain is no longer there, the scar always remains. It is something that will always be with me because I have been on both sides of the life and death of a child, of your body knowing what to do to not only give life, but also terminate life. Interesting though, that I no longer (and haven't for a very long time) look at that time in my life or more specifically, the miscarriage itself, as the "worst" time in my life. Some very close friends of ours, much older and wiser than us, imparted some great wisdom to us at the time, which I now see to only get truer by the day. While I honestly don't want to miscarry again (and something inside me approaches each pregnancy with fear and trembling to a degree now, knowing more than some it could be disrupted at any moment)I look back almost fondly at that time in our lives. I look back to that deep hurt and all the confusion and emotion of our particular situation attached to it. It was a time not all couples get to experience and I swear if they knew first hand the fruits of our labor and the degree it further cemented a bond between my husband and me, just how close that time made us, many would long for that kind of experience, that kind of bond. (not to say anyone would long for a miscarriage or any sad event in their lives) It was and is something that is ours alone. It is something that made a notch on both of our life staffs, individually and as a couple. It was in the midst of that pain and hurt, right there in my sometimes anger and sometimes trust in God, that He held me. He didn't explain everything to me, He didn't answer me, He just held me. He loved me, picked me up each day when I didn't think I could go on, when I couldn't bear it, when I was the awkward grieving girl. And He somehow brought me through the other side, into a brighter joy and communion with Him than I had before the miscarriage. He taught me so many things through this situation about myself and my view of my heavenly Father, my relationship with Him, and ultimately, He put me back together.
I want to end by saying that I have left a great deal out and could not fully detail the loss and hurt I suffered, as well as all the particulars of our specific situation, but I now consider myself blessed greater with that experience having enriched my life so much. Tears spill as I type this for the thankfulness and love I feel for my Lord, for when I thought I was alone, He was there. I know I haven't really told anyone about my blog, so the two or three who actually know about it, and the one that then reads this, I hope and pray some sort of encouragement to you if any of this finds you or someone you know, in a similar place. The the other two, I will leave you with this: you don't have to understand it, you don't have to have gone through it yourself to be a loving friend. You don't have to know all the right things to say, but remember there is a season for everything. There is a time for grieving, a time for laughing, a time for everything under the sun--so if you ever find yourself someday or a loved one in this place in life, simply grieve. Grieve yourself, grieve with and for them. Don't push them, don't talk about sunshine and roses. Yes, you can tell them truth, that "all things work together for those who love the Lord,..." but not yet. Not until they are ready and in a better place, for now, just grieve and tell them you love them, that you don't know what to say, that you don't understand, but that you are sad with and for them and hate they are going through it.
A very close friend got it right without ever having experienced it, without even living in the same state. She sent me a little homemade pillow with a big Q embroidered on it, as a remembrance of my little Queen baby in heaven now. She said it was for me to always have and remember my little one. It meant so much to me that someone would not only take that kind of time, but understand to the degree she was able. Follow her lead and simply mourn the loss of the unborn child.
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