A note on miscarriage

"Last couple of years have been a beating."
Those were the words Larry Crowne says in the movie Larry Crowne when he is informed he is being fired because he cannot go higher in the company due to his lack of college degree and he cannot stay forever in the same job due to company policies. We learn later in the movie Larry has recently divorced and will lose the house he thought he would make a family in. The words have lingered with me.

I thought of those words: last years have been a beating. It certainly has felt that way. The hubs has been unable to find a steady job. He gets a job whose project gets canceled due to funding. I was fired for getting pregnant and later fired for not being an American in Honduras (feel the irony). And we haven't been able to move from our in-laws.

But I realized we haven't taken a beating.
We didn't bury a loved one.
We are not in debt.
We are not homeless or alone.
We are not battling a permanent illness or a terminal illness.
We are not struggling in our marriage or as parents.
We have a good relationship and we support each other in everything.
We have two beautiful, gorgeous, perfect, healthy, smart, kind, funny daughters.
We are blessed beyond what we deserve.
And even though we are not were we wished we'd be, we were very happy to find out we were pregnant.

So much information in two little lines.

This was last Wednesday during Holy week.
We were scared, for like a second, and then the excitement hit us hard.
What if my prayers are answered and they're twins?
What if it is a boy?
Who cares is it is another beautiful baby girl!

I dreamt of beautiful baby feet and baby toes, the smell of newborn, the joy and pleasure of breastfeeding, how would Emmalee and Kaylee treat the baby, what would we name him or her ... or them!
And yesterday, while I was in a meeting all day, I felt the pain in my lower abdomen while my baby was being ripped apart from my body. I left the office in scary tears when I saw blood and ran to the doctor's. An empty womb showed in the ultrasound.

No. It is still not a beating.
We are still blessed beyond what we deserve.
But the real pain of a miscarriage is that it is only a death to me.
People tell me they are sorry and they will try to comfort me, but no one will mourn this life like me. No one will know the pain of watching my dream drain down in red from my own body. No one will forever remember the baby that was lost because it was only a baby to me. I will think about this baby for the rest of my life. When I see the girls, I'll think of the brother or sister that could have been there playing with them. On every birthday from now on, I will calculate what age the baby would have been by now. People will do this with you if you lost a born child. Only you will do this with an unborn lost baby. Only I was in love with that child for the six days I knew of his or her existence. Only I am heart broken. It is a very lonely and hard place to be.
I just don't want another person tell me this was God's will or everything is gonna be ok. These are truths that come about on their own. I am glad most have only said "sorry."

My heart aches more when I ponder on whether my baby was a human or not, having failed to implant. A fully formed zygote that could not cling to the nourish that would make it grow, was that bundle of cells with half my DNA in it even a baby? The issue of abortion, so abhorrent to me, is that it claims it was not alive. How then, can we called cells live things? Should this change how I view every living thing?

And then there is the spiritual issues. Will I meet him or her in heaven? Did the baby have a soul yet? Was there even a beating heart? I remember how we found out we were pregnant with Emmalee really early. On her first ultrasound, she was nothing but a tiny bean where all we could see was a white dot turning on and off signaling her beating heart. That intermittently white dot was so beautiful and awe-inspiring to me.

Most women don't even realized they have miscarried. They didn't know there had been conception. I did. My brain has no idea what to do or where to go. All it knows is that it was a mommy to three. My heart finds comfort in God giveth and God taketh, but blessed be His name!


  1. Linda, I am so sorry for the loss of your precious one. Thank you for sharing your story with us. Our prayers are with you.

  2. Thank you dear Linda for your vulnerability and for sharing. Yes, this was a baby and yes! you will not only meet your dear child, but you will cradle him and rock him as God restores all the dreams you had. I will pray rest for your weary hearts, and healing for your wounded souls. Much love from my heart to yours.
    ~Tiffany Edwards
    Psalm 139