We’ve all heard the stats, 1 in every 4 women has experienced miscarriage. Miscarriage is not an uncommon experience. It’s a shared grief, a hidden cord connecting women all over the world. Yet the pain of miscarriage is often hidden and remains unshared. Almost taboo.
Can we just stop with that? The suffering is intense enough. Let’s hold hands, cry together, remember birthdays unborn together, let’s listen and sit in grief together. Let’s not journey alone.
To be honest with you – I journeyed quite alone through the months after my miscarriage. Maybe that’s why I feel so strongly about writing and publishing about my journey – because I want yours to be different. I want you to know that your grief deserves to be seen. You are allowed to grieve. You are allowed to stop and process – to take time to heal.
And just because 1 in 4 women experience miscarriage does not mean that miscarriage is a “normal” occurrence to be glossed over. No. Your story, it should be heard. Your child, born of blood or born still – they deserve to be known.
Our baby born of blood died on March 13th, 2015. They were due on October 31st, 2015. Their life, their death has left a forever mark on my soul, my mind, my body, my family. Each year on October 31st we take a family picture with an ampersand. Our reminder of the life that was lost. Our “Thank You” to God that joy & suffering can exist together. Our constant reminder that this world is broken & His plans are good.
If you know someone going through miscarriage, I want to take this time to encourage you to see them. Really see them, hear them, and grieve with them. And if you have a miscarriage story to share, I want to encourage you to share your story. It brings healing, it takes that invisible cord we are all hanging on to and makes space for another mama experiencing grief to see she’s not alone, and here all around her is a network of women sharing in her loss. It gives her the opportunity to grab on to that cord and release some of her burden. And for you – sweet mama, sharing invites healing for you too. I can’t tell you how you’ll experience that healing, or how long it will take because all our paths are different. But I can tell you I’m here, holding on to that cord with you, and you are not alone.