In the past year, the topic of miscarriage has become so much more personal to me. Although I have not experienced it myself, close family members and friends have. Miscarriage now has many faces, names, sweet couples whose dreams are shattered, and special children who will never come to be this side of heaven. Every time I heard the heartbreaking news this past year or so — words seemed to fail me. What could I possibly say to ease the pain? A few months ago, after hearing of yet another loss, I penned the following words.
As our eyes filled up with tears, there was so much I wanted to say. I wished to be eloquent, tender, inspiring, and comforting all at once. I wanted to instantly make it better. I know as a nurse that trite clichés of supposed comfort mean nothing, and sometimes make it so much worse. My mind scrambled as my heart shattered for you. I wanted to say so much…
It’s ok to hurt.
It’s ok to grieve.
It’s ok to feel like everyone is successful at pregnancy but you.
It’s ok to be relieved, to finally feel better after weeks of debilitating sickness.
It’s ok to dream about moving forward.
It’s ok to fear being able to survive yet another loss.
It’s ok to not want to be sad.
It’s ok to feel both the lightness of a stress relieved, yet the burden of what could have been.
It’s ok to mourn a little life that was half you and half the man you love…and that will never come to be on this earth.
It’s ok to be honest and say you are still physically hurting even though it all happened a few days ago.
It’s ok to want your mom here to make it all better.
It’s ok to say you think your family is hurting more this time than you…you hurt more last time.
It’s ok to feel like a lifelong dream may never come true.
It’s ok to think the worse nightmare that could become reality would to be pregnant again…to risk another loss.
It’s ok to wonder why God chose to have this pain be a part of your story.
It’s ok to be you.
To be honest.
To be real.
To be hopeful.
To be devastated.
To still be thankful.
To be so very sad.
This is what I wanted to say. These are the words my broken heart cried as the “I’m so sorry” echoed around us. But I just didn’t know how to make it better. What was right to say…what wouldn’t make it worse.
But I’m here.
I care deeply.
And I believe your story is just beginning.
This is what I wanted to say.
To those who have traveled through this valley, this hurt, this unique grief – I cannot say I truly understand what you are going through – but your loss is great; your grief, profound; and my prayers for peace and healing, sincere.