Posted on 06/08/2011 11:28:14 AM PDT by frogjerk
The wound comes from well-meaning people. “Well, it wasn’t that far along.” “You can always have another child.” “Lots of people go through this.”
Miscarriage is a tragedy that so many people misunderstand. They are not quite sure how to console a friend or relative who has suffered this loss.
While there are no magic formulas, there is one fundamental truth that needs to stay front and center: a miscarriage is the loss of a child who is just as real and has just as much value as any other child of any age. A woman who has a miscarriage is a parent who has lost a child, as is the father of the child as well.
In a society which continues to have a legal and cultural blind spot for the unborn, many suffer from the illusion that miscarriage doesn’t grieve a parent as much as the loss of, well, a “real child,” and that is precisely what hurts so much. We can never console someone in grief if we imply, even remotely, that the person they lost wasn’t real.
Dr. Byron Calhoun, President of the American Association of Pro-life Ob-Gyns, has observed that prior to 1970, the loss of a child before or during birth was often treated in medical literature as a “non-event,” but that now there is a growing awareness of the grief associated with such loss. In fact, Dr. Calhoun has developed a hospice program for unborn children.
As the medical community advances in sensitivity and understanding of these points, so must we all. Our love, our compassion, our sharing in the grief of such losses, can bring healing to the parents who have suffered miscarriage. The naming of these children who have died is one significant way of acknowledging their reality. The counting of these children matters too, so that if a parent is asked how many children he/she has, the child who died before birth is counted as one of them.
I recall the first pro-life billboard that we set up in 1990 here in our community of Staten Island, New York. It depicted a developing unborn child. One of the first phone calls I received about it was from a woman who had lost a child by miscarriage. “I can’t tell you how consoling your billboard is to me. Thank you.” That was all she said.
Perhaps the reason it was consoling was that someone was saying publicly what she knew privately: that was a real child. The life of that child matters, no matter how short it was. The death of that child matters, no matter how many may not cry. And the love I have for that child matters, even if nobody else knows.
Lord, comfort all parents who grieve the loss of their children of any age. Take them into Your loving arms, and give us strength until the day You give them back to us in heaven. Amen.
I lost my daughter’s twin during their eleventh week of gestation. Knowing she was going to be ok was my only saving grace. That was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to face and it still breaks my heart when I think of my child being an only child. I still can’t watch her when she plays in front of a mirror, because for those first fleeting seconds I get an impression of what her sister would have been like.
Amen,
Amen.
Mother’s Day Sunday services at church were some of the most tragic days for my wife. There was miscarriage after miscarriage (dashed expectations), examinations, proceedures, faded hopes, and a constant sense of failure.
Few people could comprehend the pain.
We were blessed with two sons before losing three babies to miscarriage. God gave us a beautiful girl after losing those three, our miracle baby. She's 14 now, a wonderful and bright teenager.
Thanks for the post!
This happened to me too. You are the first person I’ve run across who had the same experience. My daughter remained an only and at 24 seems to have few regrets about her lack of siblings. I’m sure your daughter will come to terms with it too. I think we moms have more difficulty with it than our children.
Exactly the same here. It was brutal.
Amen.
miscarriage = loss of a child
God, have mercy.
Only in the second instance did I have the presence of mind to ask for the remains so I could bury them--- and the nurse shot me a look of disgust and said "Absolutely not". I didn't have the emotional strength to argue: I was dazed with pain.
I thought of that just recently when I found a songbird killed by a car in the street in front of my house. I wrapped it and its scattered feathers in a paper napkin and buried it in my garden. Even a bird I would bury with a measure of respect. Surely my child.
I’m sorry for your loss. Prayers up.
God Bless you, your wife and your family.
God Bless you.
What a TRUTH!
I lost three babies before birth, and the grief was more agonizing than my father’s suicide, because a mother is supposed to be able to protect her babies, and I couldn’t.
Two of them are buried with my father, where I will lie down some day. Sometimes I wish I could swim through the earth to them - but they are not there - they are at heaven’s feast.
Although I had had an uneventful pregnancy, my son developed aspiration pneumonia shortly after birth. They said there was a 25% possibility of death. That was plenty traumatic, and it must be so much worse to actually loose your wanted child at any stage.
Meanwhile hear some thoughts on reducing the liklihood of miscarriage. My husband’s mother had lost two before she was pregnant with him. Her doctor paid a lot of attention to improving her nutrition, and he was born healthy. I decided we should go into “training” so for a year I made a point of feeding use extra well and also taking appropriate vitamin and mineral supplements. I also read Adelle Davis’ book, “Let’s Have Healthy Children.” After my children were born I followed her advise on nursing and making my own baby food. My sons are now 41 and 37. The older one is in Special Forces and has never had a cavity. The younger has had only one cavity.
Something else that does not get enough emphasis and publicity is that the “sudden infant death” rate for nursed babies is significantly lower than for the bottle fed. Apparently doctors are afraid of making bereaved mothers feel guilty. Doctors should be feeling guilty for not encouraging prospective mothers to nurse.
I lost my first little boy at 15 weeks. I was at home at the time. The Catholic funeral home came and picked up his little body, took it to the local Catholic hospital until he was buried at the Catholic cemetery along with other miscarried children. Both the funeral home and the cemetery had services for him. And all at no cost to us. I have since encouraged anyone who has to have a d&c to have it done at a Catholic hospital because they do respect the baby’s remains.
I have this mental picture of human existence. We are, billions of us, like candles, a vast galazy of candles, steadily being snuffed out in huge wide darkening swaths. Even people who attain to 90, in a full and accomplished life, are really just living the blink of an eye, in the history of the Universe; most of the humans who have ever lived have already been extinguished, their molecules scattered; and our extinction --- if that's what it be --- rushes dark upon us.
So there are, as I see it, just two options: either all our lives are meaningless, like our doomed babies, only an instant to shine, and an eternity to be forgotten (and all our thoughts about "Valuable" and "Beautiful" and "True, so true" and "More Precious than..." are unbearable nullities) -- or---
Or God saves every good thing; nothing is futile; nothing is lost; all is in Him, saved, stored, restored: come to Him and in His heart find all.
About 45 years ago, good gracious, I read a poem of which I will never forget the last line:
"Wherefore He will sometime blow out the sun, And snuff the stars,
Preferring candle-light..."
I’ve lost two children due to miscarriage, comments like “you can always have another child” anger me more than anything. We tried for years just for those two. One was lost because my OBGYN did a papsmear against my wishes (actually pushed me back on the table) and I got an infection, and the second one I didn’t know I was pregnant and had surgery.
The hardest part is mother’s day and when people ask how many children I have. I always say two, but they are both deceased.
Great, now I’m crying again.
I skip church on Mother’s day for that specific reason. I understand.
It is wonderful that people are good-hearted to do this. It means a lot.
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