Isn’t it funny how the things that life and the Lord want to teach us come in the most interesting ways? Like.. if we don’t pay attention, we’ll miss it? 

My most recent life lesson came on the back of my nearly seven year old niece. 

First, let me tell you about her. She’s hilarious. She is the sweetest and kindest little girl. She never stops talking and she absolutely adores her cousins. She’s smart. She’s the textbook definition of “pure of heart”. I just really like her (not that I’m biased or anything). 

Anyway, on with the story.. 

We recently had a miscarriage. My niece knew we were pregnant. The first time I saw her after we found out we lost the baby, the first thing she said to me was “I’m really sad you’re not having a baby anymore.” I responded, “me too.” because that’s all I could muster up without crying. 
Looking back on that conversation now, I wonder why I was afraid to feel vulnerable and sad in front of her. 

Or why I’m afraid to feel vulnerable and sad about having a miscarriage at all. 
I look through social media and see all kinds of stories – people who have lost tons of weight, people who were victims of some trauma or tragedy and have risen from the ashes, people who lost a loved one, people who received promotions, people who celebrate birthdays. 

The list goes on. 

Do you know what I don’t see? Stories about miscarriages. We don’t talk about them until we celebrate our rainbow baby. 

Why not? Statistically speaking, ONE IN FOUR women will experience a miscarriage. Why is it this little secret we don’t feel like we can tell anyone? 

We don’t talk about the emotional pain. The elation that comes with a positive pregnancy test and then the pure heartbreak that comes with a miscarriage. We don’t talk about the physical pain – the cramping, the bleeding. We don’t talk about the psychological warfare that happens in our irrational minds – “What did I do wrong?” … “Why did my body fail my child?” … “What did I do to deserve this?” … “Why me?” We don’t talk about the spiritual anger. The long, deep conversations fueled with rage and sadness at our God for allowing such a horrible pain to pierce our hearts.
We just don’t talk about it. 

In the rational moments, we can hear the doctor’s words as truth “A miscarriage is not your fault, sometimes these things just happen.” But in the midst of the emotional, psychological, spiritual and physical pain, often our need to give purpose and blame lands on ourselves. Couple that with the fact that women rarely talk about their miscarriages as they’re going through it, and then here we are… on an island… alone… 

Don’t get me wrong – my husband is my best friend and biggest supporter. He’s mourning too. But he doesn’t feel the guilt I feel. He doesn’t feel the physical pain that reminds him of a life that could have been. He is processing as the father, and I as the mother.

See, I’m a Christian woman and I believe life starts at conception. At this stage, I’m mourning a LIFE. I’m mourning a little person that I will never have the chance to know. 

Maybe that’s why we stay silent? Because we know most people don’t handle death well. They don’t know what to do, or what to say. So in order to avoid making anyone else uncomfortable, we suffer in silence. 

But friends, that’s not how we were designed. God didn’t put us on an island by ourselves. He made us relational beings. People who are meant to love and support and rely and care for one another. 

My niece reminded me of that. She reminded me that it’s only NATURAL to feel sad. That we shouldn’t be ASHAMED of our emotions in a time like this. That talking about it HELPS us feel not so alone. That we have people who LOVE us and MOURN with us. 

I see you, mama. I see your pain, your suffering. I feel it too. But you don’t have to walk this path alone.