Sunday, April 23, 2017

An Untold Story

"There is no greater agnoy than bearing an untold story inside you." 

I recently read this quote and tears filled my eyes at the possibilities that families experience with pain in all situations. I've never thought of a story being untold, until I had one. My life has now become an open book, and for some reason my heart needs to let this story turn into one that is heard. 

Miscarriages are never spoke of. It may be the pain that conversations bring up for the Moms and Dads that have experienced them, or the unknown of what could've become. Statistics show that 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage. These numbers are devastating. They're not the fault of anyone but sadly, (as much as I've hated hearing the phrase,) "something that just happens." Which is where all of the hurt begins. 

On a March afternoon after leaving school and just having that feeling of, "oh my word, I believe this is finally happening!" Curtis and I found out that baby #3 was soon to be. 


We were nervous, excited and ready for another adventure that God had given us. We playfully argued back and forth about finding out the gender, or not. Wether we would be finished after number 3, or not. How we would tell our parents, our children and our friends. 

I never realized how perfect the highlited scripture was for this experience. 


That was until I woke on a Tuesday morning during Spring Break to what would become one of the hardest valleys my life has endured. I continued to read over this scripture as I sat in an ER room waiting for answers of what I already knew was taking place. 

It's true that noone ever tells you how much pain you can hold for someone you've never met. There isn't a number of weeks, numbers in an HCG count, or a line graph of numbers that could show the love a Mother holds for baby. Even though I knew from the moment I left, it was unbearable for me to tell my husband that my body was working against what we thought was our next big adventure. No one prepares you for crying in your husbands arms as daylight is beginning to break. Or going from plans of announcing a pregnancy, to giving them news that your plans have changed. The gasps and smiles as you start to tell your news to family, that quickly change to hugs and tears. Or how when you get a reminder phone call for your first ultrasound and appointment because your doctor's office mistakenly didn't cancel the appointment. Your heart literally just breaks all over again. Loss is loss, and it's just simply hard. A hard that no one can describe. 

Obviously, it's true that miscarriages are not talked about. But they should be.

We recognize life in so many forms, and we also recognize the passing of life. We grieve with loved ones and total strangers on many occasions throughout life, and grieving is an important role. The Lord even calls us to grieve. Stories of sadness may not be spoke of because they are hard to hear, but sometimes they are what we need to say. I didn't realize how much I needed to speak about this recent experience until one afternoon I blurted it out to two sweet ladies after a PTO meeting. I'm sure I blindsided them, but their responses comforted me and told me that they too would be praying for this valley. 

"God knew we needed you to tell us."

I agree and I'm thankful for their words. 

The twelve week rule isn't an etiquette guideline that I've ever followed. But after this journey I personally cannot say I ever will. 

Life is celebrated with reveals, postings, parties, and surprises. Death is a protocol for a memorial or funeral. But a miscarriage death is usually an experience of grief held by only one person, or two. 

No one should ever have to grieve alone. Or feel as if their grief should be hidden. We shouldn't feel as if a miscarriage passing isn't adequate enough to grieve for. 

We should be excited about our pregnancies from the moment we have the first thought of, "Oh could this be?"  We should let our loved one surround us with love and encouragement in all situations - easier said than done. And to never fear the judgements like I feared would come. As I told my family and close friends, I told them that I didn't want anyone knowing per the judgement that could follow. But in reality, there isn't judgment to be casted out. 

I've grieved and there are moments that I will still grieve. Even though this was an early pregnancy, there are no words to change what could've been. I've since learned that when you miscarry, it isn't just a physical process but one of emotions from the start to I assume never ending - as grief always just gets better in time. 

My untold story of our could've been may have been full of possibilities. But how thankful I am for a God that loves the broken. One that was also my ear when I had only a few to speak to. Even though I may not ever understand, I know his timing and our "what if's" are his perfect plan. 

I hope that I can be more diligent with being honest in my conversations. It may be hard to talk about, but talks that we need to have. If you're someone who has not experienced a miscarriage but are a shoulder for some who has, just listen. Let this person know it's okay to feel whatever they need to. Share scripture with them, and just let them be heard. If you're someone who has experienced a miscarriage reach out to someone because you never know if they may be within that 25% that has suffered a miscarriage. For myself, I'm personally trying to grow the introvert out and have these hard talks. They may range from sick children, a busy mom schedule or just someone I know who is in a season of struggle. 

While I'm still in this hallway, I'll continue to praise him until the next door opens, whether it's a rainbow or another hard storm. Hard things bring us to our knees and I'm not sure about you, but that's exactly what I need most days.


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