loss and healing - life after my miscarriage

hello world.

I have returned after a sabbatical, and I fear it is to unburden a somewhat broken heart.

But what is this blog for, if not to share my hurt in the hope that someone else's might be eased or made lighter.

For you see, in the last month, I was not pregnant, then pregnant, then not pregnant again. And it hurt like nothing I've experienced. I felt vacant, empty, broken, lost. 

It is a small consolation that our family has a honest-to-goodness little saint in heaven waiting for us. We have the distinct honor of having a little wee one waiting in heaven, frolicking at the feet of Jesus, making Him smile and laugh with her antics. Our beautiful Mama Mary, I know, is keeping her eye on our baby, making sure she feels so loved and cherished, and knows how very much she is missed.

I am comforted too by the realization that our beloved little one will never know pain, never feel hunger or suffering. She is in perfect joy and peace, safe in the arms of her eternal Father.

But that leaves me here on earth, feeling empty.

At my worst moments, I feel angry, frustrated, cheated by the Lord. At my lowest point, I feel as though He gave me exactly what my heart longed for, and then took it away. The timing could not have been more perfect, according to my plan. We were so delighted to hear we had a new baby on the way. And then, almost immediately after sharing our news, tragedy struck our family for the first time.

At my better moments, I feel the love of Jesus enfold me tenderly. I feel His presence, and discover in my heart the gift of strength to say, "Not my will but Yours, Lord." It's not okay, and never will be fully okay until heaven, when I can hold my little one in my arms. In the moments I am able to trust, I can see how the Lord had mercy and spared us further suffering - my miscarriage was peaceful and physically non-traumatic. But the emotional wound is deep. As a mother, the loss of a child is unimaginable. You feel your womb ought be the safest place for your child, not the location of their death.

It is appropriate for me that this tragedy took place during Lent, a time when we walk with our Lord to Calvary, remembering His outpouring of love, His embracing of all our hurt and failure. Even though He did not Himself experience the loss of a baby, I find consolation in knowing that He too experienced the loss of beloved ones. He was present with His mother at the death of His earthly father, St. Joseph. I heard recently at Mass that during His lifetime, our Lord experienced every range of hurt and sorrow and suffering, sharing fully in our human experience.

And so I give Him my aching, empty heart. I give Him the parts that need to heal. I rejoice in the signs of His love surrounding me everyday: I treasure my son, Matthew, without whom I probably would have been more depressed. Every time I felt like sobbing, he would do something silly and as I laughed at him, I felt consoled and my heart ached a little less. I treasure my husband, Jonathan, who was exactly what I needed him to be during this time. We shared in this sorrow together, and I love him all the more for having endured this with me. I treasure all of you, my friends and family, who walked with me every step of the way, sharing my cross by offering words of love, prayer, and support.

Jesus was with me through you all. And He was with me when I was alone with my grief. He did not abandon me in my tears, but brought me through the dark night into a new dawn. Jesus, I trust in You. I trust, even when it hurts, even when I'm angry and feel empty, even when I doubt. I choose to trust and embrace Your will for my life and family. I give you my pain. I give you my will, my desire, my plan for life, my control. I know that You are in control, that You know the why, even if I fail to see it.

I choose to trust. I embrace the new life that Easter brings.

And I have a little angel waiting for me in heaven - darling, I can't wait to meet you, kiss you, hold you, play with you. Know that your Mama loves you, if from afar. Know that I pray for you, and pray for us too, baby. I will see you soon.