Miscarriage

There is a subculture and hidden woman's club out there that is discovered by invitation through a hazing initiation that is beyond description. It is a club that is not joined by choice, but is actually quite large. Although, nobody knows just its extent because it is a club that nobody wants to join, nor seeks to join.

I had a miscarriage between my first and second daughters. I wasn't very far along, only 8-9 weeks by dates. I had no indication that the pregnancy wasn't normal. I had nausea, I felt pregnant, and there had been no bleeding. When my OB suggested we do an ultrasound, just for the heck of it, neither of us knew there would be bad news. There was no heartbeat. The doctor, trying to be nice at the time, said come back after the weekend and see if I was just earlier than my dates indicated. That was the second worse weekend of my life. The worst was after they confirmed that the fetus was "nonviable" and I was diagnosed with a "missed abortion".

The next two weeks were the worst weeks of my life. I have never felt more emotional, more depressed, nor more needing my Father in Heaven's peace, comfort and reassurance. I was given all three, but not in the way I wanted them. I hope I never have to experience such a black time in my life again.

Getting pregnant after that miscarriage was even more terrifying. "Every minute of every day" as my husband likes to remind me, is how often a woman thinks about being pregnant. I would say twice a minute every day a woman wonders if this one will "take" and a healthy baby will be born. Until I felt the baby move, I always had a niggle of fear in my mind- yes, even after I had seen a heartbeat and the baby move on ultrasound.

After my miscarriage, I didn't want to tell people about it. It was something so private and so indescribably sad. Tentatively, a few weeks afterward, I told a few friends that I'd had a miscarriage. I was shocked to discover how many of my friends had experienced a miscarriage, and some of them many times! There was an immediate bond, an understanding and sympathy with a huge dose of empathy. It wasn't as if we could feel the pain and sorrow the other person felt, but there was an inherent knowledge of the horror and difficulty, and a connection through commiseration.
Being inducted into this club is undesirable, but I am grateful for the sisterhood and support I've felt from my friends. I was so grateful to hear their stories and know that everything would be ok; that I could very well have a normal, healthy pregnancy. For all that comfort, and support, there was still nothing anybody could say or do that relieved me from the pain, sorrow, and darkness I experienced.

Unfortunately, I know that before my own experience I was probably one of the ladies who would say, "Oh, that's so sad. I'm sorry" and really feel that way, but not consider it further. Thankfully I wasn't the one who would go to the woman and say "Oh, you must feel awful!" and "Well, at least you already have one child" or "You work too hard; you shouldn't do so much" or other inane and stupid comments that help nobody, and frequently dredge up bitterness, resurface guilt that shouldn't be there anyway, and make the woman feel her loss acutely and have ignorant comments pierce her soul.

Now I am the one who has quiet tears of empathy stream down my face, and know there's little I can say or do to help my sister. I give my most heartfelt, "I'm so sorry". Quietly, I let her know that I can understand somewhat her experience, because I had a miscarriage, too. Yet, I also share that I know she's gone through something of which I will never feel her same emotion.

My heart goes out to those women who have experienced this sad loss: to those who were hoping to have a child, and those who were not ready to be pregnant; to those who cried silently in the bathroom, or wept openly in the emergency room; to those who already have child(ren), and those who are still hoping they can bear a child of their own; to those who've had one loss, or many; to all my sisters who have come through this "valley of shadow" and emerged on the other side- and frequently with more hope and determination.

I love you, my sisters.
I hope for you.
I fear with you.
And, I pray for you.
My God, our Father, grant you your heart's desire.