Thomas and I had just celebrated one year of wedded bliss in Europe— romantic strolls through Paris, skydiving in the Swiss Alps, galavanting through Germany. Right before our travels we decided we were not going to necessarily “try” to get pregnant, but were going to stop preventing and see what God had in store for us.
My sisters both had gotten pregnant easily, but I had no idea what our story would be. To our excitement, we also got pregnant right away and I believe on said European vacation (too much?). We couldn’t wait to tell our family, who we knew would be beyond ecstatic to welcome another little one to the mix. We shared with close friends as well, welcoming prayers for a healthy pregnancy.
Late one night 9 weeks into our pregnancy, I was experiencing excruciating pain and Thomas took me to the hospital. We found out the following morning, at my already scheduled ultrasound, that we had lost the baby. I will never forget that experience—the coldness of the ultrasound tech who was trained to not say anything without the doctor, the PA who shared the unwelcome news in a more bubbly tone than my heart was ready for. In just moments, we had gone from unbridled hope and joy to complete despair and grief.
I immediately called my mom, sobbing, to tell her we had lost the baby. Thomas began playing a song on the way home that would become our anthem following our miscarriage: “The Sun Will Rise” by The Brilliance. Such a simple song, but full of so much hope in the midst of despair. When we got home he read Scripture over us and found ways to lead us to the Father even though we were so broken. My family wasted no time before feeding and grieving with us. My brother-in-law wept as he prayed for us, none of us understanding such a loss.
I was amazed at friends who were already on my doorstep with treats, meals, tulip bulbs to plant in honor of our baby—the list could go on. Many of these thoughtful gestures came from friends who had experienced a similar loss. I remember thinking that I didn’t grieve properly with any of them as they had with me, but it’s a grief you don’t fully understand until you’ve experienced it—a hope and love for someone you’ve never met.
The following year was full of waves of grief. At times I would be okay, but my husband was hurting. Other times, I would just weep in bed. I’m so grateful for my people who allowed and encouraged me to grieve when and how I needed to. Some well-meaning people said things trying to be helpful but did more harm. It was also a season that felt like everyone else was getting pregnant when I couldn’t. In my flesh, at times, my initial reaction was bitterness, but that was immediately followed by prayers for a healthy pregnancy for those celebrating when I couldn’t. It wasn’t a place I wanted to be in, but it was honest, raw, and where I was. I also had a hard time worshipping in those days, but not because I didn’t still love and absolutely trust my God and that His plans were best.
I had been pretty public about our loss, partly because I wanted to celebrate this life that made me a mom and to be a safe place for others going through something similar. I was amazed at all of the people who told me they were praying for us literally daily; I felt that prayer. People were interceding for us when we couldn’t for ourselves and that was such a beautiful picture of Biblical community.
About a year and a half later we found out we were pregnant again! By this point, I was in a much healthier place. Our son is now 2 and we have another babe on the way. We have had another loss since our first, so I will have two rainbow babies and two in heaven. It is most definitely a sisterhood no one wants to be a part of, but I am grateful for those who had gone before me and pointed me to Truth in the midst of my sorrow.
Grief looks different for everyone and we need not compare our loss or difficult seasons to others. I certainly gained new perspective and that I may have no idea what pain someone might be going through (miscarriage can be such a silent, lonely pain). I don’t know why this is part of our family’s story, but trust that the Lord has purpose for it and hope to be used by Him through it. If you are in a season of grief, please know that God is big enough to carry you. With Him as our strength, Hope is always ours to claim even in the midst of despair. For that, I am forever grateful.
MEET THE AUTHOR!
Elizabeth Fleming is a wife and mom, as well as co-owner/baker of her family’s delicious dessert cafe Cuppies & Joe. She loves cooking and going on adventures with her husband Thomas and is unashamedly obsessed with her son, nieces and nephews.