A Story of Loss

     

    We both look perfectly happy in this photo but nothing could be further from the truth. 

     It was January 27th, 2018, the celebration of my brother's wedding in which I was a bridesmaid. It should have been a day of joy but instead, my husband and I were grieving a very recent loss.

    Just two days before wedding day, I was rushed to have an ultrasound done. I was about nineteen weeks pregnant but my normally active baby had been so still that past week, I knew something wasn't right. Instead of my next ultrasound determining our child's gender, it determined there was no movement; our baby girl had died. 

    The wedding rehearsal was the following day, the wedding would of course take place the day after. My husband and I personally knew most of the guests attending this wedding. It was a day that should be filled with celebration, not mourning. For this reason we chose to keep quiet about our loss for the time being, sharing the news with only our parents and a select amount of family members. Not even the bride and groom knew. It was the hardest, most heartbreaking secret we'd ever kept.

    After getting through the rehearsal, we attended a dinner with a large group of various family members. I distinctly remember walking in... My step brother was holding his baby girl and grinned at my husband across the room calling out, "You ready for this to be you?" The rest of the evening was basically an attempt to avoid as many people as possible, until we finally made an early departure. 

    Come the morning of the wedding, as a bridesmaid I had to smile for photo after photo. Then the ceremony took place with me onstage, still smiling... and I've never felt so fake. It seemed as though I was constantly answering questions from many sweet, excited friends who wanted to know how I was feeling and telling us how happy they were for us. My husband had a similar experience as he was recruited to direct the guests parking, and many who knew him offered enthusiastic congratulations. I felt deceptive for answering how far along I was, leaving out any other explanation. The whole time truly felt like I was wading through a thick fog. I was just trying to survive this day so I could then go home and be alone with my husband to grieve the loss of our pregnancy. 

    Hopefully you don't get the wrong idea. I'm not writing about this to make it sound like we've struggled worse than others or as an attempt to gain sympathy... Life is life and we all go through things. This was several years ago and while there is obviously still pain, we are not where we were then. God has been faithful, and healing is a steady progression. I'm also not writing this to say I think we should have handled things differently. These were special circumstances and the timing made it even harder. Of course the timing of these things will never feel appropriate. As normal as death is, the moment it rears it's head it can feel like everything is upside down and nothing will be the same again. It's an accurate assumption, I suppose.   

         I wanted to tell this story for several reasons. One, miscarriage is a subject that is often brushed under the rug. A mother's pregnancy doesn't seem to feel as valid, nor the baby in utero thought of fully as a life lost. And it's my opinion that these erring thoughts are often committed by the mother herself, just as much if not more than those around her. That baby was a life, and that precious life was lost. Momma, please don't invalidate these truths to yourself. The value of your baby's life should not be cheapened nor your experience of loss and grief somehow made to feel inferior. 

    Second, I hope to use this story as a platform to recognize the reality of pain and hardships in this life; another subject I think is often brushed over. I want us to be able to acknowledge the hurt and anguish that is underneath so many smiles. You look at this photo of my husband and I and it's nearly impossible to tell how much we were struggling in that moment. (My Dad knew at this point as well, also pictured.)
 

    As a Christian, my joy comes from God; this is a foundation throughout my walk in this life. However, that does not mean I always feel joy; it does not mean I am always happy; and it doesn't mean I should not recognize when life is a struggle. 

    If you are currently in a good place, just remember to reach out to those around you... Know that a smile does not necessarily mean everything is fine. And when the time comes for you yourself to grieve, allow this process to take place. It's also so important to be surrounded by those who will walk with you through your hardship, rather than feeling like you have to keep smiling and put on a façade. I cannot say enough how much the support of our family and friends got us through this incredibly difficult time in our lives. 

    I will wrap up with the recognition of this reality: God is good... yet we suffer.

    I am not in danger of a lack of faith in God if I am crying out to him in anguish or asking asking him why. Our Savior felt hurt and pain more deeply than any of us can imagine. He knows how it feels and he is there with us in our sorrow. 

    It may help us to reframe this reality of our suffering: We suffer... but God is good. 

 

We are all sojourners, wading through an immense depth of sin and depravity in his life. Emotionally, we are all at different places at different times, but we are traveling together. It is impossible to live this life and fail to recognize the tribulation it holds for every single individual. So let's stop trying to pretend it's not a reality. And as the sun disappears and we are left to suffer in the dark, lift your eyes past this present moment to gaze on the horizon and remember, "Weeping may last for a night, but joy comes in the morning." 

*Photo Credit: Jeana Barry, Clarissa Clark, and Jeremiah Hoppman