Her eyes said it all.
My dear friend had recently suffered a miscarriage. She sat in front of me and couldn’t say anything more.
I just hugged her. There were no words. As someone who has never experienced this type of loss, I could not identify with her feelings. I felt completely inadequate to comfort her during this painful season.
Of course she was mourning, still a bit in shock, trying to come to terms with this new reality and dealing with the physical and emotional effects of a miscarriage. So much pain and so many questions.
Eventually, she was able to speak.
Why her baby?
Did she do something to cause it?
Did she neglect to do something that could have prevented it?
How long would the hurt last?
How could she possibly explain this to her older kids, when she didn’t understand it herself?
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That day, I did a lot more listening than I did talking. I wanted to do something more for her, but at the time, I just couldn’t come up with anything that seemed significant enough to recognize and honor her loss.
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Once my friend began telling others of her miscarriage, she often encountered similar responses. Most people were reluctant to say much about it, other than to uncomfortably mumble platitudes. The only people who did talk much to her about it were members of a secret club she never even knew existed – other moms who had also suffered miscarriages. When she let them know about her loss, they would open up to her, sharing their own experiences in hushed tones. Some of them were even close friends who had never told her about their experiences before! It was as if the only way to really hear about miscarriages was to, first, have one yourself.
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Since my friends’ miscarriage, I have encountered more women who have had similar painful experiences. I noticed some similarities in their stories.
There is no recognized, common outlet for their sorrow and pain afterwards. Â
They were embarrassed to tell their boss why they had to take a few days off work, but weren’t sure why.
They wanted to commemorate their child in some way, but were unsure how.
They wanted to share their story, but didn’t want to make others uncomfortable.
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As I said, I never dealt with a loss like my friend, and so many others. I did, however, struggle with infertility. In no way am I trying to minimize the enormity of losing a child. But as I listened to her feelings and heard the pain, I recognized many of the same familiar emotions. I wonder if the two, infertility and miscarriage, are somehow interwoven together in the mind of a woman. Two pieces of a larger puzzle that makes up who we are in the deepest part of our being.
During my own painful season of infertility, I remember the sadness and frustration… the anger I held towards my own body for not doing what it was created to do. The longing, sorrow and anguish I experienced every time I saw a sweet pregnant belly. But, like my friend, and so many others, I walked that path in silence. It was rare for me to share what I was going through.
Miscarriage or infertility should not be taboo subjects. So many of us are affected by one, the other, or even both. It is not something to feel ashamed, guilty or humiliated about. As women, we need to work together to change the story. We need to open up to one another and stop hiding alone in shame or feelings of inadequacy. Â And, we need to know how to respond as sisters when others share their feelings.
“He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others.
When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.”
â€â€2 Corinthians‬ â€1:4‬ â€NLT‬‬
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I’m a helper by nature and the feeling I had that first day when my friend confided in me never went away. I wanted to do something. I wanted to help her find comfort, peace and healing. So of course, I turned to what I know best. I grabbed my paint and a canvas. I created my Infant Memorial Painting and Prints to share with her and others like her who have experienced such a devastating loss. 10% of the proceeds from all Miscarriage or Infant Loss Art will be donated to, Hope Family Care Ministries, a non-profit organization that supports family’s facing these types of situations.
I know that this painting won’t take away her pain, but I hope it is one small step towards allowing a mother to find comfort… knowing that someone cares, commemorates her lost child, and ultimately allows her to heal and share her story naturally.
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I encourage you today, to share your story… privately with a friend, here on my blog or even on social media. There is someone else out there who needs to hear it. She needs to know she is not alone. Please join me in the challenge of breaking the taboo surrounding infertility, miscarriage and loss. Let’s stop hiding. Please share your heart and your story and use the hashtag #LCsharingHeartsChallenge We are stronger together.
