It’s been difficult to put words down about how I experienced the miscarriage. Mostly because at a very early point, I was there for Christina to be strong. At one of her weakest points, she needed her partner to be a source of strength when she couldn’t. I found purpose in becoming that source of strength, therefore my emotions found a quick source of relief. Having found that purpose didn’t relieve my own grief, but it helped a little. My own grief grew underneath, whether I noticed or not.
I was playing with the girls on a bright day, when Christina called. We were in my room, the girls jumping on the bed, while I got things ready for the rest of the day. I answered and could barely make out the words “no heartbeat.” At that moment, the whole world stopped. It didn’t matter what the day was like or what we had going on. I cried. I held the girls close and hugged them, but mostly I was numb. Our good friend was on her way to take the girls, so I could join Christina.
There are times when you realize that you just drove 15 miles but can’t remember how you got there. I can remember vividly scenes, but as if I had watched them on a movie. I remember hugging our friend on the way out of the door, the left turn onto the street of the hospital, crying in front of our doctor, wandering aimlessly to the cafeteria before we headed to the labor and delivery wing. These are scenes that make the day real, but even to this day don’t feel as if I experienced them. I’m not sure if I will ever really put myself there, fully.
Over the years, I’ve really struggled with the thought that this happened for a reason. While things do happen for reasons, I’ve found it hard to say that we lose children because of some identifiable reason. I have however seen that there is a choice when facing the aftermath of a miscarriage. It’s very easy to let the anger and sadness take over. I was numb for a few weeks. Going back to work was miserable because no one really understood or wanted to admit they understood. We could have been angry at a lot of things. And sometimes we were. It’s okay to let the pain be there.
The other choice was to draw closer to God. His will for us is to glorify him, even at our darkest times. Going through the pain of a miscarriage is a dark time. I was able to take an afternoon a go for a walk in the woods, the following week. It was me by myself, seeking answers from God. I prayed, sang and cried. And the more I went to God, the more I saw that pain making me stronger. God gave me the strength to stand firm in this trial.
One final thought. Hiding and running from the pain only prolongs your healing. Embrace the pain. Out of the bad comes good.