Now let me just start by saying that there is absolutely nothing beautiful about losing a child you carried. The whole process is messy and ugly and leaves you feeling helpless.
I'll never forget the first time I miscarried... My husband and I were pregnant with our first child and even though it was quite the surprise we welcomed it with open arms. I was so excited! I had picked out names, bought baby books, and even shared the news with all of our close friends and family. But on the 18th of August 2019, at 9 weeks, I began spotting. It wasn't heavy and I wasn't in that much pain so I decided to swallow my fear and head to church because I had obligations that morning.
During worship, I began to cramp a little and I felt like I was bleeding a tad heavier so I rushed to the bathroom... To no surprise I was right. I started to panic and I couldn't think straight. I immediately texted my sister for advice and she told me that there was actually an OBGYN in the church and that I should go find her and ask for her help. So I did. She was so kind and understanding and she tried to calm some of my fears.
She had so many wise words to say and I'll never forget what she told me as we ended our conversation. "You need to know that if you lose this baby it is not your fault." Woah... Those words ended up helping me through a lot of uncertainty, but at that specific moment, it was if I went def after I heard the words If you lose this baby.
And it hit me right then and there.
Am I about to lose my baby? Is this really happening and if so, how did this happen? Is there something wrong with me? Could I have prevented this?
How was I supposed to accept that I had no part to play in this unfortunate loss? Bad things don't just happen for no reason. But I was wrong.
Us women, we tend to blame ourselves for a lot of things.
"If I was more interesting he wouldn't have left me."
"I guess I'm just not cut out for this."
"I must have done something to have caused this."
and so on and so forth...
These are all lies we tell ourselves because we can't accept the fact that maybe we just don't know why things happen... and maybe, just maybe, we had nothing to do with these misfortunes.
Now fast forward some traumatic trips to the ER and a hard, painful week later, and I miscarried our first baby.
I. WAS. DEVASTATED.
To make matters worse we had Jaidens grandparents visiting from overseas and I found myself constantly apologizing for ruining their trip and trying to justify why my body betrayed me. And although I am so glad they were there to support us and love on us, I wish we were able to have mourned our loss privately.
The reason being for the fact that I never fully processed my loss and that became very apparent when I miscarried for the second time 3 months later.
I started to blame my body for not 'being enough'. For not doing the ONE THING God had intended us to do. This should be easy, I thought! Why am I broken?
I became such an angry person. Every time I saw someone announcing their pregnancy or posting belly pics all I could think was that should be me. I began to have panic attacks and fought with my husband constantly about how I was useless and broken. I even questioned God's plan for me. I prayed and prayed and probably asked a billion questions like, "why would you let this happen to me?" and begged him to not let me fall pregnant again unless it was purposed.
After some deep prayer, I began to search through the word in hopes to find some understanding. Maybe there's a reason beyond my control. Maybe it had nothing to do with ME and everything to do with my future child's purpose. After some reflection, I sat down with my dad and just let him do the talking. He told me how God purposes every child and how spirit is eternal. My future children were purposed. Planned for such a time. If we are spirit and our spirits are eternal then the baby I so desperately desired existed already. God was just waiting for the right time, the right DNA to release that spirit into its destiny.
That gave me peace. And when I finally accepted that it wasn't my fault it was like a weight lifted. Even though I desired to be a mother I finally understood that I just had to be patient.
I began to see the beauty of miscarriage.
Yup, you heard that right. I know miscarriage is messy and brutal, but it is also a blessing in a weird way.
If you are a parent I want you to quickly think about your children. Look at how beautiful they are. How purposed they are, and how they came at such a perfect time. Would you change that? Would you want to see a life where those specific individuals didn't exist? Of course, you wouldn't because they are your babies and you wouldn't change them for the world.
Well, that's kind of what I think about when I think of miscarriage. I think of the wrong timing being replaced for the right timing. I think of purposeless to purposeful.
Yeah, I know.. It's terrible to think that somehow something so awful was so purposed. But when we give it all to God you can understand how that is true.
Right now as I am writing this I am almost 4 months pregnant and expecting a beautiful, healthy baby! And when I look at where I am now I am thankful for God's redirection in my life. No matter the hardships I endured to get here. I think about how God called us to move to another state, and how He's preparing us to pioneer a new church. I think about the pandemic we are currently facing and how devastated I would have been to have given birth to my first child in such a state. And lastly, I think about how He has used our experiences to grow our marriage and open my husband's heart to prepare him to become a father.
God is so faithful, and I believe that He lets hard things like miscarriages happen when He has a greater purpose. And that is the beautiful reality of miscarriage.