When a Mother Loses Her Child
It was a Saturday in November of 2012. I woke up at 6am with a sense of excitement and anticipation. I ran to the bathroom and took out that little pink stick. Here it was the moment that could change everything. I followed the directions to make sure there were no mistakes. As I sat the suggested 3 minutes, my heart raced. Within less then a minute two little pink lines showed up… I was pregnant.
We hadn’t been planning it, but after two years of marriage I knew we were ready. The excitement that followed that day was pure bliss. Being parents for the first time was a little daunting, but we couldn’t have been happier. From the moment those two little lines appeared I instantly fell in love.
I couldn’t believe how much love I felt for someone I hadn’t even met yet. For someone I had no idea who they would be. For two weeks we planned and talked about what our baby would be like, who she or he would be. It was two weeks of falling deeper in love with the child growing inside me. Two weeks of an intense, passionate, protective love for this unborn being.
Then it happened. I was at work and something didn’t feel right. I went to the bathroom and started bleeding. I immediately freaked out. I decided to call my Doctor; hoping to find some reassurance that everything was going to be ok. The nurse told me one of two things could be happening: 1. The baby is fine and some bleeding can happen early on in pregnancy. 2. I’m losing the baby. Her suggestion was to go home lie down and wait it out.
That night we told our closest friends what was happening and they began to pray with us for the life of our baby. I believed with my whole heart that God was going to save this child, that this child had a destiny. Everything in me began to war for this little one. But within a few days our precious little baby had gone. My heart was broken and sorrow swept over me like I had never experienced. I wept for weeks.
There was a sense of shame that I experienced when I lost the baby. Part of it was I felt it was my fault, my body rejected the baby. Was there something I could have done differently to have better prepared my body for life? I felt ashamed for grieving so hard. With this day and age we are taught that life doesn’t start until after the baby is born. Until that point, it is just an embryo, nothing more. I felt dumb that I was suffering from so much pain for something that I had only known was living for two weeks. I shouldn’t care so much right? I shouldn’t hurt so deeply right? Wrong!
Many people offered their condolences and many said things similar to, “ Don’t worry you’ll have another one.” “ This happens all the time. “ “Your body probably rejected it because there was something wrong with it.” As much as those comments were made with love and people trying to encourage me, they hurt. It made my grief seem silly and pointless. As though I was just suppose to “try” again and make up for the lost child. No one would ever say to a parent who lost a 5 year old, “Don’t worry you can have another one.” That would be cold and heartless. Yet I’ve heard stuff like that being said to mothers who’ve miscarried.
Here I am nearly two years later and I am pregnant for the third time. This little one will be our second gorgeous baby girl. And I still can’t help but cry when I think of the first little one that I lost. Finally after a few years I am able to cope and understand that my grief over my miscarriage is completely healthy. I lost a child, a child that could never be replaced. There was a unique life and personality living inside of me, even if it was for a brief moment.
Life starts from the moment of conception. And the love started from the moment I knew I had a baby inside of me. That baby was my first child. I will always love that child. I will always think about the fact that even now he or she is dancing with Jesus. And one day I’ll get to meet and hold my baby in my arms.