Miscarriages are difficult. Especially when people think you shouldn’t talk about it. It is such a magical moment when you find out you are pregnant. A thrill! Their little life flashes before your eyes. What color of eyes. What color of hair. Their smile. Is it a boy or girl. Picking a name. Birth. Holding the baby for the first time. I can remember very clearly the first time I held my children. They are by far etched in my memory forever. But then it happens. A miscarriage. All that hope turns into hopeless despair. Will I have another one? Can I have another one? Do I want to go through this again?
I have had 5 miscarriages and only a few people know that. Besides my husband for whatever reason I chose to do it alone. And that is a terrible place to be. Alone.
This last miscarriage was in February 2013, right before I got pregnant with Madison.
It was by far the worst one as I was about to hit my second trimester but the baby stopped growing earlier. There is nothing worse than the technician saying she can’t find the heart beat. It’s not easy going through labor but the times I did it I had a great reward. With the miscarriage I did not. It’s hard to will yourself to go through that pain when you have nothing to gain. No tiny fingers and toes to count, no eyes to look into, no tiny hand to hold your finger, no cheeks to kiss, no baby to caress. It leaves you raw of emotion. But to some people a miscarriage doesn’t matter. People would say, “Oh Casey you can always have more!” Or “Your hands are full honey. You don’t need anymore!”
But how do they know? First off, this is my child. MY CHILD! Not a blob of tissue. I can’t have another one because there will never be one with that genetic marker and those finger prints. That baby was a person. That baby was unique in his or her own way. And how do they know I could have more? And no my hands aren't full enough and my heart is empty and hurting. Even though I didn’t see that baby doesn’t mean I didn’t love it. Doesn’t mean I didn’t dream about him or her. How he looked. Did he look like me or Brian. Probably Brian. They alway look like their daddy. How she smelled. Babies have this remarkable smell that any mother can identify and it is pure ecstasy. They say that this smell alone has the power to cure depression in some women. Studies have found that regardless of the maternal status, the smell of newborns triggered dopamine release in the reward pathways of the brain - the same “pleasure pathways” affected by cocaine, food, and other stimuli that evoke reward response. I’ll take the baby drug any day!
But what about grief? A lot of people think you shouldn’t mourn your miscarriage. Why? Does the child not deserve it? Of course it does! It was your baby.
I knew a lady who I went to church with at Grace Family Baptist in Spring, Texas. It was my first miscarriage. It didn’t know how I was feeling or what I should be feeling. I knew I was numb. She came over and talked to me about grieving. She told me to mourn the baby and to properly grieve how I felt was necessary. She said to allow myself to feel what I’m feeling instead of staying numb. The day after that women were bring me meals and showing me so much love. I remember that night I started to cry. And cry. I don’t know if she knows how much her kind words have helped me.
With number ten I remember very clearly after my D&C that the baby was indeed gone. And the pain began. A pain unlike anything I have felt. This life was inside me. A connection only I knew. And I cried. I cried at the loss. But then I thought that the spirit has never left me. That child’s spirit will always be with me. The hopes and dreams that I had for the baby may be gone but a part of him or her will always live inside me. I cried out to the Lord, “Lord why does this hurt so much? Please take it away." I am always reminded that there should be 13 instead of 8. There are missing pieces to my heart. I remember saying "I need peace and comfort Lord. Please comfort me."And in that moment I felt a peace unlike anything I have ever felt before. And I laid there. Trembling. Sobbing. The song “You’re Beautiful" by Phil Wickham came into my mind. I got out my phone and started playing it on You tube. The words are exhilarating. They are so beautiful. My favorite verse is, “When we arrive at eternity’s shore, where death is just a memory and tears are no more, We’ll enter in as the wedding bells ring, Your bride will come together and we’ll sing…You’re beautiful!” I played that song as I cried myself to sleep and then something miraculous happened. I was ok. I. Was. ok. And then, my sadness turned into anger and then my anger turned in to accepting what had happened. Only then was I able to pick myself up and start doing this thing called life again. There is a part of me that will never be ok. That will never recover. If you have suffered a miscarriage then I am sure you know what I am talking about. It's ok to talk about your baby. Shout it from the rooftop!!! Don't forget about your baby and remember that life that once filled your womb is a beautiful child of God. And even in the hardest times. When we are in our valley. Praise the Lord. Because He WILL bring you through it.
Psalm 23:4 He restores my soul; He guides me in the paths of righteousness for His names sake. Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff they comfort me.
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