Navigating Miscarriage

MISCARRIAGE

Micah and I went through a miscarriage back in May of this year when I was 8-9 weeks pregnant. 8-9 weeks doesn’t sound long, but it was certainly enough time to plan and dream about what life would be like when our baby came in November.

We’d have the holidays off with him/her.

They’d be able to meet our families right away.

(My OCD brain) I have to re-organize the apartment so the guest closet can become a closet for our kid vs storage.

Oh my gosh am I going to be able to workout the same way I normally do??

Etcetera…

The things our brains go to, or mine anyway, are probably not the most important things, but they all start to create a picture of what life will be like with our first baby.

I went to the doctor at 7 weeks with the expectation that I’d get to hear our baby’s heartbeat for the first time. I knew miscarriage was common, but obviously I wasn’t going to be one of the women who experienced it.

Why do the ultrasound techs get so weird and awkward?? Can we all just agree that if they can’t tell us what they see (even thought they clearly know), they immediately pull in the doctor so that someone can just be straightforward and clear right away vs all fidgety, quiet and uncomfortable?

We aren’t dumb, we can read the room!

My doctor proceeded to tell me that it "wasn’t looking good” and that she wasn’t 100% certain, but most likely I was going to miscarry. There was a genetic abnormality that my body was most likely going to reject and if that didn’t happen, it was going to be a very precarious pregnancy.

What a funny word. “Mis” “carry”. Similar to “Mis” “take”.

Miscarriage: mis-, meaning "mistakenly, wrongly or badly" and -carriage, a "means of conveyance.”

The very word itself triggers one’s brain to say “what did I do to cause the “mis” part of this “miscarriage”?

Even if you logically know it’s not your fault.

I held it together when I was in the room with my doctor, but the moment I walked out onto the street I started to cry.

If you’ve ever cried on the New York City subway, trying to be all quiet and subtle but sniffing constantly, you know the experience is one to avoid. (And let me tell you ever since COVID, the looks for sniffing are as if you’ve just slapped someone across the face. LOL!)

When I got home I dreaded the moment Micah walked into he door because I knew he’d read it all over my face.

He bounded through the door with his usual infectious energy and when he saw me his countenance changed immediately as I started to cry. I explained to him what the doctor said and he simply hugged me and cried along with me.

In 7 years, I can probably count on one hand the number of times I’ve seen Micah cry.

His crying both comforted me and made me cry harder.

It’s a blessing how the most difficult times draw us closer to one another, and most importantly, to God.

We prayed over my body, over our baby, over our hearts. We spoke our miracle-working God’s words back to Him knowing that He already has all of our kids perfectly planned and that He’d see us through if this one wasn’t meant to end up on this side of eternity.

Telling our parents was probably the hardest part of the whole experience.

They’d had time to start dreaming and planning too. For my parents, he or she would’ve been their first grandchild.

The days that followed were filled with hope, prayer, fear, anxiety, peace…you name it, I probably experienced it.

I knew how wanted this baby was and how loved they already were, but the idea that I could go through 9 months of uncertainty regarding whether they would make it or be healthy at birth sounded like an experience that is beyond the strength I currently possess.

I also knew if that was my story, God would equip me completely. I know a number of women who have walked that road with grace and faith and I admire them immensely.

Once I knew that my body had started the process of rejecting the pregnancy, my first feeling was one of relief, because at least I has an answer…which immediately led to guilt.

Guilty that I had complained about the nausea I was experiencing when I was pregnant.

Guilty about the complaining regarding not being able to exercise as intensely as I normally do.

Guilty about the thoughts I had surrounding my body changing and my uncomfortability with that.

Guilt.

**"Therefore, there is now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus…” Romans 8:1**

It took processing in a session with my wonderful counselor, Amanda, for me to put into words that I was experiencing guilt. As well as to be reminded that guilt in this situation would only be coming from one place…

Served up hot on a platter from the enemy.

I knew that if I took to the Bible for the truth I needed, and prayed for God to help me with the guilt ridden thought patterns, He would. So that’s exactly what I did.

Taking my thoughts captive was essential. Anytime I’d have thoughts of guilt or thoughts of the miscarriage being my fault, I would rebuke those thoughts aloud as lies.

You feel kind of crazy in the moment, but it’s incredible the power our words have over our state, especially when we hear them outside of our head.

Leaning into truth and the support of Micah was key.

Navigating grief with a partner is a unique experience and communicating openly about what I needed was major for me. Whether I needed him to just be with me or if I wanted to be alone. If I wanted him to encourage me with his words or distract me with his unending hope, joy and positive expectation.

I needed something different everyday, and sometimes something different from minute to minute.

As a person wired for productivity and the desire to progress a bit each day, having an emotional wound preventing me from following through on certain habits/tasks is something that can put me deeper into a guilt spiral. Thankfully the support system of grounded, faith-based wisdom and perspective that I have surrounded myself with allowed me to have outside reminders that I needed to give myself grace and allow God to heal my heart in His time.

I usually like to formulate my posts with action steps that can be applied in life immediately, but my goal with this post isn’t about an easy 5 steps for getting through grief. A grief journey is different for everyone as we are all wired differently.

(Although I will say building a circle of people while life is good who share your values and will show up for you when you’re in a valley is HUGE. Digging your relational well before you’re thirsty if you will.)

My goal in sharing this is to be a small contributor to removing shame from the experience of miscarriage and the complex emotional journeys that come along with it. To hopefully have someone lay eyes on this who has felt alone on a grief journey and now knows they aren’t the only one experiencing the rollercoaster that they may be riding.

If you’re in a valley of loss of any kind right now, I am praying for you. You WILL get to the other side and be able to impact someone with your story and what you learn.

I am in your corner.