Life just IS sometimes


I have been quiet these past few days. At least when it comes to babies. I have been doing a lot of thinking and praying about what it means to be a woman who has lost a child. The date July 4th now haunts me. It has been a date of celebration in the past, but next summer it will hold a new meaning. Something that was, but never got to be.

I wonder, why do women keep quiet about this loss? Miscarriage? "I've lost a baby." Maybe it is because of the pain. It hurts. Maybe it is because the language we use to describe the loss. It all points back to me. As if it were my fault. I had a miscarriage. I lost the baby. Why can't there be a way to describe the situation that doesn't make me feel like I caused the loss. Anybody have any suggestions? I tried telling people that "we" had a miscarriage; that Jason and I lost the baby. But the truth is, that didn't feel right either.

So, here I am, having told everyone except one person (I don't see them or talk to them very often) that our child is gone. What does this mean for hope? How do I live hoping for something lost and not expecting that it come? Hope surrounded by expectation feels truncated by fear. I'm afraid that next time I get pregnant (if, please God it happens again) that the same thing will happen. Our lovely doctor (and I mean that seriously) says that because it happened once doesn't mean it will happen again. But, I am afraid. Afraid of allowing myself to be overwhelmed by joy again, only to lose it later, being swept away by grief and sadness.

Isn't this what it means to risk becoming a parent? Joy mingled with grief and fear and love? Until this point I hadn't felt the grief of being a parent. Joy, yes. Love, absolutely. Fear, certainly. But, not grief. Honestly, I haven't had much grief in my life. Lost first love, but not the loss of life itself. And how does such grief come from losing a life so newly found? We had only just heard of the pregnancy. I can not imagine the pain from having actually grown the babe...

I am a woman. A woman who has joined a club none wishes to enter in. We have no secret handshake, only a code. Silence seems to be the code, but I'm not having it. I need time to be alone, time to move on, time to muster up the courage to try again, but I want women to talk about this. Lord please give us courage to enter into this hurt full of sadness, yes, but full of hope and love too. May these words and the experience I have now had be of some greater use.

Comments

The Zuminis said…
Tracy, your words are so full of sincerely difficult emotions and they are so beautiful at the same time. I remember sitting at the Rocket Bakery with you and Kristol one day years ago, and you made us all promise that if we ever had to cope with the loss of an unborn child, that we would not remain quiet. You made us promise to resist bottling up our grief and instead to talk about it. I am so glad to see you are holding to this promise.

Your words here are a testament to your bravery, because it takes a lot of strength to face the confusion you feel in a time like this and even more strength to share that confusion with the people you love.

I guess all I can say is my heart aches for you and Jason. I'm sorry you have joined me in this awful club. I understand the feelings you described so eloquently in your post and I pray with you that this experience will someday be of some greater use.

I hope this next part can be even the slightest of encouragements to you. After Garrett and I experienced our loss, I felt a strange sense of responsibility (as you described), wondering if there was something I could have done to prevent it. But then I realized something: I am quick to admit that I have no control over becoming pregnant. I have no hesitation in believing and saying that if I become pregnant, it is because God made it so. So the realization continued: Why am I so quick to say God is in cotrol of my becoming pregnant, but so quick to say that the loss was because of something I did? This may not ease any confusion you feel when you ask yourself "Why?," but I found some peace in truly realizing that I had no more control in losing my baby than I did in becoming pregnant in the first place.

I love you, dear Tracy. Please let me know if you need anything at all.

Aubrie
Eliza said…
Tracy - Thank you for your beautifully raw honesty. You are all in our prayers.
Heather said…
Hi Tracy, I'm so sorry to hear the news. I don't know you well, but I've been in your shoes, so your words touched me and we'll be praying for you and Jason.

Our first pregnancy ended just before the first trimester was over. Very difficult. There was a song by Watermark at the time that helped put joy in such a sad time. It's called "Glory Baby" and this husband and wife team sing about how they were sad, but happy to think that heaven is all the child will ever know.

I loved that there was a song to sing in that time, no matter how much it made me cry.

And, I will tell you that I did fear during both of my following preganacies...it's something that is hard to be ignorant of once it happens. But, it taught me a lot about trusting God and letting go of control.

Take good care and we'll be praying. ~Heather Long
Nadia said…
Tracy,

As you well know, this is a journey Jeff and I have had to take several times...and I have never found an "easy" way to get through it. (We should have had a 'Korban' sized Vanderkuip running around with us now, remember?)

I am deeply grateful for your raw honesty in this. I would just encourage you to mark this time somehow in a way that both acknowledges your loss and allows you to move on. We did different things each time with each baby.

Keep us posted on how we can pray and support you all through this.

With love,
Nadia & family

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