Tuesday, December 13, 2016

The hurt that runs deep

*This post may not be for the faint of heart*

My newsfeed on Facebook today showed me a memory from 7 years ago.
 "thanking the LORD for His sovereignty in all things, even in those where the hurt runs deeper than you can tell."

Seven years ago I was in the throes of our first miscarriage. I was heart broken.
Four months later, another aching loss. This one left me in such poor shape physically, it was months before I felt normal again.

These experiences were life changing. They were my first real taste of grief. And through them, I've been given this opportunity to minister to other women experiencing loss. Because "Weep with those who weep,"- yes, I can do that.

The thing is, here I am again, surrendering another baby to eternity.

Y'all, if you've not walked this road, let me just tell you - it's awful.
It's awful to have labor pains knowing you won't get to hold your baby at the end of it.
It's awful to have to tell every body you lost the baby. And, frankly, sometimes it's awful to be on the receiving end of sympathy (this was hardest with my first when I really struggled with how to respond. "Yeah, I'm sorry too" doesn't have a nice edge to it.)
It's awful to see your protruding tummy and know there's no life there now. For me, it was awful to see my stretch marks - badges of courage from my full term pregnancies - and they mocked me that I couldn't carry this baby to term. {Of course, in reality, there's nothing about a miscarriage that's the mother's fault, but head knowledge doesn't change the feelings necessarily}
And it's awful to have days when you start to feel normal and find yourself smiling, and then you guilt-trip your heart for moving on - how can you possibly just "move on" when your child is gone?

This process is different for me now. I didn't have any children during those early losses and I had plenty of time to mentally and emotionally go through everything. But now I can't. I've got to keep taking care of my people. I can't indulge in as many tears as I want, when I want. But I can cling to the "Rock that is Higher than I" {You can find the lyrics to that old hymn here, if you're not familiar with it}.
I can keep pressing forward through His daily sufficient grace.


  1. I'm so sorry. I'll pray that your hurt and your body heal quickly by the mercy and grace of God.

  2. I'm so sorry, honey. This grief is deep. I pray the Lord will heal you and strengthen you. You'll be in my prayers!