Hang On To Hope

5 Things I’ve Learned from 3 Consecutive Miscarriages

“The gem cannot be polished without friction, nor man perfected without trials.” 

– Chinese Proverb

 

A few months ago, my mom ran into an old family friend in my hometown. A few minutes into their conversation, the gentleman asked about me, and my mom shared the then-recent news of my second pregnancy loss, to which the man replied, “That’s awful.” And then, with no small measure of consternation in his voice, “Diana is so healthy, too.”

When my mom told me this, I sighed. It wasn’t the first time I’d received, both directly and indirectly, such a reaction, and indeed, prior to my personal experiences with miscarriage, I wrongly assumed loss was almost always attributable to the mother’s health and lifestyle. It wasn’t until I began researching search terms like “What causes miscarriage?” that I discovered there are numerous factors that could potentially play a role in any given loss, and many times, the reason is simply unknown.

This was just one thing I learned from my losses, and it leads right into a second…

It wasn’t until my first loss that I found out so many women in my network of friends and family have miscarried as well. My aunt (who doesn’t mind that I’m sharing this) informed me that she had had four losses before having my cousin.

My best friend’s mom, whom I’ve known for thirty years, told me about the loss she experienced decades ago and that she still grieves to this day.

I attended an event recently where the majority of women present had had at least one miscarriage, a fact I was privy to because they had privately discussed them with me after my first two losses.

The fact is, miscarriages are common, so common, in fact, that they are estimated to occur in one of five detected pregnancies. And yet despite this heartbreaking frequency, they are rarely talked about, giving the impression that they seldom occur and perpetuating the false assumption that they happen solely to unhealthy women.

And now I’m right back to the number-one thing I’ve learned: Miscarriages can happen to any woman.

It doesn’t matter if the woman is fat or thin. It doesn’t matter if she lifts weights, does yoga, or abstains from exercise altogether. It doesn’t matter if she’s a meat-eater or a vegan. It doesn’t matter whether she has a family history of miscarriage. It doesn’t matter if she’s 22 or 37. It doesn’t matter if she takes all the “right” supplements, or none at all.

Granted, there are things I believe women can and should do to ensure the healthiest pregnancies possible, but at the end of the day, much of what goes into creating a human from start to finish is simply out of our control. Chromosomal abnormalities within the sperm or egg; improper implantation of the fertilized egg into the uterine lining; immune system disorders; thyroid disease; genetic thrombophilias… These are just a few of the below-the-surface, out-of-our-control conditions that have the potential to terminate a pregnancy. And so, for one to think, in response to the news of someone’s loss, that it must have been due to something the mother did or did not do is not only incorrect, it’s unfair to the mother, who might well have been doing everything she knew to do, before and after conception, to support the healthy development of her baby.

A third thing I’ve learned is that everyone feels differently about whether or not to tell others about their loss, and that’s okay.

As I mentioned above, before I went through a miscarriage myself, I personally knew of very few women who had suffered one. Of course, this could simply be because the subject doesn’t just float seamlessly to the top of everyday conversation, nor is it an easy topic to touch on, let alone recount in full detail, but I also know from speaking to friends of mine that often it’s fear of what others may say or think that deters them from sharing.

For instance, when someone hears of a loss, they may feel tempted to play detective and start speculating about what might have been the cause. Or, they might wonder if and when the woman will conceive again and further wonder, after months pass, if she’s infertile, or if perhaps she’s given up on conceiving. In other words, the woman’s business could become someone else’s business, which is a discomfiting thought, especially with regard to something as intimately personal and precious as bringing a life into the world. Similarly, the woman may be hesitant to share with others because of the widely held misconception that miscarriages are essentially the mother’s fault (See #1).

I decided very quickly that I wanted to share about our losses. It wasn’t so much a choice as it was a compulsion – an inner, soul-generated drive to reach out not just with my story of God’s presence in the midst of our pain, but with open hands ready to embrace others’ offers for prayer, support, and commiseration.

Yes, there were some who inquired about possible problems with me[1], and some who asked about our plans to keep “trying for a baby,” but for the most part, our friends’ reactions were comprised of love, compassion, grief, and the silent strength of listening ears and praying hands. I am sure that had Ben and I kept our losses to ourselves, our grieving process would have been significantly more painful.

 

 

“Empathy is simply listening, holding space, withholding judgment, emotionally connecting, and communicating that incredibly healing message of you’re not alone.” – Brene Brown

 

 

The fourth thing I’ll share is not something I’ve learned for the first time, but something I was recently reminded of. And boy did I need the reminder! And that is that miscarriages are a part of the curse that fell upon the whole world the minute Adam and Eve sinned in Eden.

In other words, miscarriages were not, are not, and never will be God’s best for any of us. He grieves over death as we do.[2] He does so because death is an aberration that rattles against the heaven-bent bones of our being. His grief, like ours, is an expression of the injustices of sickness, pain, death, and all such evil. For followers of Christ, we know that the afflictions of this life are “light and momentary” compared to the glory of eternity that is yet to come.[3]

Because miscarriages aren’t part of God’s plan, He is not the one who causes them. He doesn’t send them down like great bolts of lightning to chastise us or seize our attention. We don’t have to wonder what we might have done to deserve such a harsh, excruciating punishment because under the covenant of grace, we are not destined to the wrath His people the Israelites received under the Mosaic law of the Old Testament.[4] He does, however, discipline and correct us when we go astray, but always with the redemptive purpose of restoring us, in much the same way a father disciplines his sons.[5] Does a good father discipline his son by killing his unborn child? No, and neither does the Lord, who is far greater than any earthly father, use miscarriage as a rod of discipline.

The fifth and final thing I’ve learned (“final” only as the word relates to this post; I’ve learned much more) is that we as human beings are able to withstand far more pain and adversity than most of us probably realize.

After our first loss last October, I said to Ben, “I can’t go through this again.” In that moment of raw, real, visceral pain, I honestly felt that I wouldn’t be able to withstand not just another loss, but even the thought of one. Then, when I got pregnant again one month later, I was over the moon, brimming with joy over the little life flickering inside my womb.

When we learned that that pregnancy would also end in miscarriage (on New Year’s Day of all days), I once again felt a crushing conviction that I never wanted to be pregnant again; it was the only way to ensure I would never again experience the unbearable heartbreak of pregnancy loss.

As I write this, Ben and I are exactly three months removed from our third loss. And while dark clouds of fear regarding a potential fifth pregnancy creep into the edges of my grateful, sunny days, I feel my heavenly Father walking alongside me, holding my hand, lifting my head, asking me to give my burdens to Him and remember His words:

 

“You keep him in perfect peace
whose mind is stayed on you,
because he trusts in you.
Trust in the LORD forever,
for the LORD GOD is an everlasting rock.”
-Isaiah 26:3-4

 

I believe God has hardwired into each of us the uncanny, sometimes logic-defying ability to hang onto hope when doing so seems impossible, if not outright insane. This hope allows us to pick ourselves up after failing time and again and keep pressing on toward our goals, our dreams, our overarching mission in life.

 

“Be encouraged today. Being a believer doesn’t give you immunity from the assaults of the enemy, but it does give you access to the power of the Father – His power to defend you … as well as reverse what’s been done to you.” – Priscilla Shirer

[1] I intend to write about this topic in detail at a later date.

[2] John 11

[3] 2 Corinthians 4:17

[4] Romans 5:9; Romans 4:15

[5] Hebrews 12:4-11