It took me a long time to write this. It’s hard to write about big things (big things that are little), difficult to put feelings into words and convey them the way you want. Especially when those feelings are deeply personal. But I have talked with several people who were able to learn through my own experiences, and who were grateful that I shared my perspective on such an intimate issue. Which is why I’m writing this–in hopes that whoever happens to read this post will be able to learn something, even if it’s something small.
After being married for a couple of years, Rick and I had finally decided it was time for us to have children. Our lives had come to the place we thought we needed to be to move to the next ‘big step.’ We felt we were as ready as we would ever be. Anyone who has tried to get pregnant can relate to the nervous excitement, the anticipation, the joy of seeing that positive pregnancy test, of sharing the news with your husband, of crying with happiness and hopefulness for your future plans together.
If you’re anything like me, you won’t expect those plans to change–at least not without your permission. But sometimes, no matter how perfectly you have mapped out your futures, you are forced to change your original course to something that may seem out of the way, something that is much harder.
For me, it was miscarriage.
I had almost made it through my first trimester, and thought I was ‘safe.’ The morning I realized I was probably miscarrying my baby, an onslaught of emotions bombarded me, pressing me down with a terrible weight of anger, confusion, sadness, loss, and grief. And of course the guilt–the gnawing thought that maybe if I had done something different, better, maybe that would have changed something. I cried myself to sleep for days. I felt disconnected from the people around me, and would sometimes actively avoid being around them because they seemed like they had it all together, and I wasn’t even close. I stopped praying with sincerity, and some nights I wouldn’t bother to pray at all because I had convinced myself that God didn’t care that I was hurting.
That was my biggest mistake. I felt much more lonely than I needed to because I tried to rely on my own strength rather than asking those who love me most and God to strengthen me.
Maybe it was the healing effects of time–but more likely it was the loving actions and prayers of my wonderful husband, and a Heavenly Father, who loves me infinitely and was desperately willing me to have a change of heart–but I eventually started to feel happy again. I chose to see myself as strong and capable and worthy, rather than broken or weak. I began to forgive myself, and my body, for not being perfect.
I know that I am better than I was a year ago, eight months ago, six months ago, or even last month–and I know that is in part due to the struggles that I went through. I know that I trust Heavenly Father more, not only in his love for each of us as his precious children, but also in his timing. I have more empathy and understanding toward women who struggle through any number of problems that surround the issues of pregnancy and childbirth. I am even more in love with my husband who held me night after night as I drenched his shirt in tears, and who often cried alongside me.
Today, roughly seven years later, I think I’m able to see even more of the good things that came out of this particular struggle. At the time, I certainly did not know how common miscarriage was before it happened to me. I did not know that it is possible to have healthy pregnancies afterwards. I did not know that most of the time there is nothing that the pregnant mother can do to prevent a miscarriage. But having gone through it, I’ve been able to share my experience with many other women who have also lost unborn children, and hopefully brought some measure of hope or peace to them.
I now have three beautiful children–but motherhood is difficult, despite how badly I wanted it. Remembering what a blessing it is to have healthy children here with me now definitely helps me have a more positive perspective when they are fighting or throwing tantrums. Through each of their pregnancies I tried to have a good attitude every time I felt nausea or exhaustion because I knew that I could not take being pregnant for granted. I sometimes wonder how differently I would approach the privilege of having children had I not had to work so hard for it.
Most of all, I’ve learned that God knows me, and He loves me. I learned this because of the hardships I’ve gone through, such as miscarriages. But mostly I’ve learned this through the good that comes out of those hardships.