Last week, I had a miscarriage. Though saying “had a miscarriage” like it was a 10-minute ordeal seems infuriating because no one tells you that it continues for days—not just the emotional pain, but the physical pain as well. Honestly, I didn’t want to write this post. But I’ve seen God’s good work in my life even through this painful process, so if you’re looking for hope after miscarriage, I’m right here with you.
In a matter of a few weeks, I had experienced my highest high and one of my lowest lows together. So where’s the good that God’s doing? Throughout 2020, people all around me have faced some of the craziest trials, and I have had peace.
Let me back up. In January, I decided that my word of the year would be “obedient.” I’ve historically struggled with relinquishing control and being obedient to God. I’ve tried to do things my own way, and turned to Him last—after exhausting all of my own efforts. But this year, instead of looking back and saying, “In hindsight, I can see what He did there,” I feel like He’s been holding me by the hand and showing me every step to take.
Before COVID-19 forced the world into lockdown, my year had started off pretty poorly. I had been walking through a difficult season and struggling with being incredibly negative. I was hurting the people around me—and getting that feedback didn’t feel good either. So I poured everything I had into chasing the better version of me that I wanted to be.
Then the uninterrupted time in quarantine allowed me to continue to grow—I came to a place where I felt closer to Jesus than ever before and had an overwhelming sense of peace and joy. During that time, I prayed and asked God to remind me of that feeling when I needed it in the future. I knew that life had curveballs in store, and it wouldn’t always be this easy to see and hear from Jesus. I didn’t know then that He was preparing me for now.
Without the extended time with Him in lockdown, I wouldn’t have found the peace that I experienced. I wouldn’t have learned to lean wholeheartedly and completely on God, trusting without a doubt that everything would be okay.
But I did have that peace when I needed it—because God prepared me for this throughout 2020. So instead of blaming myself, questioning why, or being angry with God, I face my grief with peace. I know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him (Romans 8:28). Honestly, that doesn’t take the pain away or make it easier. But it does remind me that this isn’t the end.
I have hope and excitement for the future because I know that whatever He has in store for me is greater than anything I could plan for myself. And I trust that God will see me through this loss because He’s been there for me through other losses, too.
One day I’ll be a great mom, but today I’m working on being a great wife, an awesome sister, a loyal friend, and the best aunt. I’m finding comfort in the fact that God’s timing is perfect, and He is never late.
I want to make it very clear that having hope in Jesus doesn’t minimize my loss. I’ve had to fight all of my own instincts to suppress my feelings. I’ve had to force myself to open up and be vulnerable—to admit that I’m not okay, and that’s okay. I’ve had to make space and time for me to allow myself to feel all of my feelings, which is very uncomfortable. I prefer pretending everything is fine, but that’s not healthy.
More women than you’re aware of are struggling with these same feelings. Some feel like they can’t say anything because their loss, like mine, happened early. Sentiments like, “at least it was early,” or “you can try again” sound good and are well-meaning, but don’t really help.
If you take anything from this, remember to be gentle with those around you. You genuinely have no idea what someone is carrying. Don’t ask when someone is having kids, don’t insinuate things, and don’t assume you’re “close enough” to pry. Just enjoy the person in front of you. Let them know that you’re thankful for them. That’s enough.
In the meantime, I’m going to spend the rest of this week doing my best to remember all of the amazing things I have to be thankful for—including all of the people, blessings, and opportunities in my life. I’m going to pray and continue asking God for hope after miscarriage. And I’m going to lean on my friends to remind me there’s hope after miscarriage.
I’m thankful that I’m able to get pregnant. I’m thankful that I know Jesus. I’m thankful for the support system I need in times like this. I’m thankful for a sweet, supportive husband who is open with his own grief while also supporting me through mine. I’m thankful that I’ve been given a voice and the courage to use it. I’m hopeful that by doing so, this experience won’t be wasted, but will be one that someone else needs to hear.
With that, I will be thankful for this piece of my story because I know it will help me fulfill my own purpose—whatever that may be. And maybe—just maybe—my story will remind you that there is hope after miscarriage. Even when you don’t know what’s next. Even when it feels really dark and painful. You’re not alone. God is good. And He is with you. And that is a solid place to put your hope.
***If you’re dealing with your own loss or your own infertility, know that you are enough just as you are. Your worth and your purpose is not tied to your status as a parent. And we’d be honored to pray with you. You can let us know at: www.life.church/prayer.
