If factors alone contributed to miscarriage then I would surely be immune to one. I was young. I was healthy. My husband and I desperately wanted a baby. We prayed for and prepared for and dreamed of our child every single day. If outward factors alone contributed to miscarriage, the odds were absolutely in my favor. This child was already so very loved and wanted.
But I quickly learned that factors and logic didn’t grow a baby. Some babies don’t grow—even in healthy, love-filled, hopeful bodies.
After I lost my first baby at 13 weeks, it was impossible to imagine the day when I would be able to move beyond the need to know why. The whys, questions and unknowns were all that I had left. I didn’t have a baby. I didn’t have dreams or hopes. All I had was the emptiness of unanswered whys?
Why was my healthy, young body not sufficient to grow my baby? Did I eat something I shouldn’t have? Did I over-exercise? Did I drink enough water? Did I cause this by doing or not doing something? I know God and I trust Him…so why did He not intervene? Why me?
Why? Why? Why?
The whys tried to suffocate me. They threatened my sanity and faith. They tried to steal any sort of acceptance or peace I tried to take hold of.
And then after weeks of mental anguish and heartache, something happened. Something inside my mind snapped loose. This thing that had been holding my thoughts captive and feeding them doubts and what-ifs and whys…broke open. And the peace that surpasses all understanding drenched me.
There was something deeper than what I had previously considered “logical.” I now realized that I was allowed to feel contrasting emotions simultaneously. And not only was I allowed to feel them, it was possible to find healing and live in harmony with them.
God, I 100% don’t understand why this happened…but I also 100% know that you are good and faithful. This is 100% the greatest loss I have ever experienced…but I also know 100% that you give hope and restoration. I 100% don’t understand why…but I also 100% choose to trust You…even beyond my own desire to know why.
Coming to this place was a journey. It didn’t happen overnight and it surely didn’t come without tears, cursing, anger, fear or pain. But because I trudged through it all—allowed myself to feel it all—I came out the other side. And I was changed forever.
There is no denying the pain I’ve endured, but because of my loss, I am able to see beauty in places others couldn’t. In a situation that may have looked hopeless from the outside world, I found a strength inside myself that I wouldn’t have otherwise experienced. And that is what I choose to hang out to.
I choose to wring out my situation like a tear-soaked rag—and gather every last drop of goodness, hope and love that’s possible. It has been 5 years since my first loss and I still do not understand why. There are times that I still battle with it. But I’m also learning to settle with that—to be ok with the spiral that grief takes me on. Because I know beyond the whys I see something beautiful, something to be celebrated. Or more accurately, someone to be celebrated. And that someone is my baby—no matter how brief that life was.