In Time of Need
I first met *Linda at a Mothers of Preschoolers (MOPS) meeting several years ago. She had one young son whose age fell between my two sons. We quickly became friends as we realized that our sons enjoyed playing together.
We often talked about having more children, and she asked me several times how I managed with two children since she knew how much work one child was. I knew she wanted another child, while I wanted to wait before having a third child. So we both were surprised when I unexpectedly got pregnant first.
My first reaction was one of dismay, for in a few months, I would have two children under the age of two plus a preschooler to handle. After recovering from my shock, however, I realized that this baby was a gift from God and thanked Him for this unexpected blessing from heaven.
All was well until eight and a half weeks into my pregnancy when I miscarried the baby. My heart was broken over the loss of my third child--a child I would never get to know. This child so prematurely taken from my womb would never feel my loving arms or hear my sweet voice in lullaby.
A couple weeks later, while still deeply grieving the loss of my child, I received a phone call from Linda. "Rachel--I--" Linda started sobbing. As I listened, a dreadful sense of foreboding ill fell on me. Seconds passed, though it seemed forever, before she was able to share her grief with me.
Linda had just experienced her first miscarriage. This news was a double surprise to me since I had not even known she was pregnant. She cried through nearly all the phone conversation.
"Rachel, it--it hurts so badly. No one even knows I was pregnant. I-I didn't know who to turn to. Could you--would you come over to be with me tomorrow? I don't want to be alone. I need someone who understands the pain I'm feeling, and--and I thought of you. I don't know anyone else who's had a miscarriage."
I knew what Linda meant about being alone. The Sunday morning following my miscarriage, I stayed home to rest. When my family left for church, I wept for a long time. I suddenly felt so alone, but I also knew I was not ready emotionally to be around so many people. Friends mean well, but often they know not what to say and unintentionally make the situation more difficult for the grieving individual.
Tears
streamed down my face as I told her I would be there the next morning. Although it was already evening, I quickly made some food for Linda and her family.
The next day, we spent a few hours talking and crying about our babies. Although it hurt to recall our experiences, we both knew this was the best therapy for us at the time. We knew not why we had lost our babies, but we felt each other's pain.
Although it hurt thinking about getting pregnant, we mutually agreed that we would tell each other when we got pregnant again. We prayed for each other's comfort and that we would conceive another baby in God's timing.
Several months passed, including my own baby's due date. That day was very emotional especially since I had hoped to be pregnant by that time.
A couple weeks later, I became pregnant. I was thrilled but dreaded telling Linda, for I knew it would hurt her emotionally, but I also knew that not to tell her would hurt even more. Linda later confessed that although she was happy for me, she hurt for her own child she longed to have. Her pain was short-lived, for the next week, she discovered she was expecting, too. Our babies' due dates were only five days apart. We were so excited.
Once a woman experiences a miscarriage, she never looks at pregnancy the same way again. The fear of another loss plagues most women. I struggled with these fears, but prayed that God would allow me to have this baby. My fears became reality when once again at eight and a half weeks, I had a second miscarriage. Losing one baby is difficult, but trying to describe the pain of recurring miscarriages is impossible. Many women, after trying repeatedly for a baby, finally give up. The pain of yet another loss is too great to bear.
I had to call Linda, but this time, I was the one weeping. Linda tried to comfort me as best she could over the phone and told me she understood if I did not want to be around her since her pregnancy would be a painful reminder of what could have been; but I would not let my miscarriage destroy our friendship.
Several more months passed before I conceived again, but this time, I carried my son to term. Linda moved before her second son was born, but although miles separate us and I never see her anymore, I often think about her and her two sons.
Sometimes, my miscarriages seem like a distant memory. While I grieve my children lost to miscarriage, I realize God has given me the opportunity to comfort others. My heart grieves for those who have experienced loss. I wish I could eradicate the pain of miscarriage and loss, but the pain never completely goes away. While the wound eventually heals, the scar always remains.
I can never fully understand, nor can I explain God's plans, but I trust God knows best and will never allow a circumstance in my life without giving me the grace to endure it. He has a purpose for everything. I also know he cares and understands my pain, for he willingly gave up his only Son for me. Comforting other women in their grief has helped eased my pain and makes my life more worthwhile.
*Name changed
