To the Mom Grieving a Miscarriage
by Meg Walker
To the mom who had a miscarriage,
I see you and what you’re going through. I understand what it feels like to get your hopes up again and again and again, only to be devastated by loss. I know the pain of inexplicable bleeding, the fear of every trip to the bathroom, every blood draw, every intangible part of not having something - anything - to mark their lives by. Only would-be dates in the calendar and positive tests tucked in a drawer proving that you didn’t make them up. I know the confusion of how to decide which “plan of action” as they say to take after hearing the words, “I’m so sorry…” because how do you know? How do you ever decide what to do with this little life that should still be… a life?
I hope you realize that you’re not alone. That even though you carry the burden of life and grief and pain that the outside world doesn’t see, that maybe your friends and family never even knew about, your pain is real and valid. You’re not alone. I see you - even if no one else can. I hope that you know how strong you are. That even though practically speaking your babies could not have all existed, that love you feel for them and the way you wanted each of their lives anyway shows how much you care. How deep your love runs. How sometimes motherhood doesn’t make sense, but we can embrace it anyway.
I want you to know that I understand how no amount of testing and answers will fix your pain, even though you ask them anyway. I realize how difficult it can be to not blame yourself, to not wonder if you did or didn’t do that one thing, would the outcome have been any different. I know the pain of the superstitions and the way the guilt can move in and take over every part of you. I know that there’s probably a lot more questions than answers for you that somehow make it all worse. That your grief ebbs and flows. That you’re only just sharing small pieces of it.
But I also want you to know that in all of that, there’s hope. Not in a future baby, not in your arms being full one day here on Earth, but that one day your pain will be gone and you will be in the presence of your Maker who promises not only to be with you then, but who promises to be with you now. Even in the darkness of your loneliness and the depths of your despair.
Motherhood is more than what we can see outside of ourselves, in our arms. Motherhood is born in our hearts. Whether your first baby or your last, I want you to know that your baby’s life matters. The details of their story, even the ones you have yet to encounter, are significant and are known by the God who created them. I don’t know why their lives were so short, but I know that they’re still just as meaningful.
My encouragement to you this Mother’s Day is this: feel free to acknowledge this day or not. Feel free to be celebrated or not. Feel free to display your love for your babies or not. Feel free to declare out loud, I’m (still) a mom, or not. Whether you carry their lives privately or publicly is for you to decide. Their value changes not.
To the mom who has endured miscarriage, know this: you are loved. Your babies are loved. The tension you hold in knowing of them and grieving them and loving them is real. This day is for you, too. Happy Mother’s Day.
Love, a mom who understands
Meg Walker
About Meg
Meg is a wife, mom, and a part of The Morning Team. After nearly a decade in campus ministry, Meg now spends her days writing and investing in her littles at home while longing for her babies in Heaven - Jacob, who she held for seven hours, and three she’s never met. She enjoys the local restaurants, walks, and all the perks of city living with her favorite people.
Connect with Author: Follow on Instagram @megawalker or via The Joyful Mourning Community
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