More Than a Miscarriage

I wrote this three years ago today, on a day when I was drowning in grief after our fourth child was gone too soon.

Often times after a miscarriage we are told “you’ll get pregnant again soon” or “at least you weren’t very far along”. Miscarriage is often viewed as a “lesser loss”, but to the Mom, Dad or sibling who went through one; it was the loss of an entire lifetime.

I’m not just grieving the loss of a baby.

I’m not just missing my pregnant belly.

I’m not just grieving holding my newborn.

I’m grieving.

I’m sad.

I’m missing a lot more than just a baby.

I’m missing…..

newborn pictures

my baby’s first bath


changing diapers

hairclips and headbands

being called “mom”

holding her

hearing her giggle when we stay up late just to make cookies

a first day of school

road trips

late nights and high fevers

potty training

clothes shopping

craft days

seeing the excitement in her eyes when she sees something she loves

trips to the store by ourselves

building forts

reading stories together


listening to her practice an instrument

cooking together

sports practices

mission trips

driving lessons

first date

high school graduation

comforting her when she cried

sending her to college

a wedding


I’m not just grieving the loss of a baby, I’m grieving the loss of an entire lifetime.

987 Days

It’s been 987 days since I’ve written a blog.  Nine hundred and eighty seven days since I’ve written much more than a paragraph, and certainly nothing I would have posted publicly.


Grief had a way of tearing you up inside. It makes you question everything in your life, your world and your faith. It seeps into cracks and areas you never knew existed. Raw, deep, powerful emotions begin to churn inside. Things you wish you could say, or scream, to anyone who will listen; but you bite your tongue, afraid of what people will say or even worse- not say- if you do.


I stumbled upon a phrase the other day that grabbed me.

“The thing you are most afraid to write- write that.” ~Nayyirah Waheed


I have been silent, far to long. Fearing what I would say, if given the chance, made me feel like I was dirty, or broken. Shame crept in and mingled with grief. Shame has a way of doing that, of creeping in during moments of doubt and causing us to remain in the darkness alone. But vulnerability and light, that drives shame so far that we cannot even see it any longer.

So goodbye, shame, you aren’t welcome here. Goodbye, guilt and fear. It’s been a long time coming, but I’m pulling up the curtains, opening the windows and turning on the lights.