Not Just a Blog About Loss
I debated if I should let my first blog post be on miscarriage. My loss does not define me, but it is a part of my story, and it has been a huge driving force behind my desire to start a blog. I wanted to be real, vulnerable, and candid about life after loss so that we can learn to be more open about our stories in life outside of the internet. I also wanted a place to create community. Not solely for women who have lost a baby, but for mamas who are trying to get dinner put on the table affordably, for DIY lovers, and for anyone growing in faith with Jesus. If that's you, I hope you'll head over to my "About Me" section to learn more about what Mint & Muslin is all about. Please don't forget to subscribe!
I'll Start the Conversation
I am 1 in 4. 1 out of 4 women experience miscarriage, infant loss, or stillbirth. October is Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Month.
I was miscarrying our first baby. My baby consumed me. There wasn't a waking second that went by that I wasn't wholeheartedly longing for my baby to be a real-life miracle. I was giving myself every reason to hope.
Hope that my baby had a place in this world. I cried out to the Lord. I begged him to make my baby whole. I prayed in accordance to scripture. I fell on my knees asking Jesus to breathe the breath of life into my baby. He was able! He was bigger than an ultrasound machine. He was so much more than modern medicine. He was faithful.
I waited. Every day that passed gave me hope.
I woke up to cramps I couldn't ignore. I knew that I only had moments left with my baby. It was coming to an end. There was no hope left. With one push it was over. I flushed before I had the chance to think too much about what was in the water. I didn't want to look back and remember being torn on whether I should retrieve the lifeless remains of what should have been our baby or not. I was empty.
I was a mother with no baby. I had a child that I never got to hold. I went through a taste of labor with no reward. A friend who miscarried a couple of years earlier warned me that my arms would ache to hold my baby. She was right.
Life didn't pass me by; I think I just watched it from a room inside my brain where I lived safely with my baby.
Loss takes you to a place you never really leave. You just learn to live there. Love there. To leave would be to forget. You'll never forget.
I stopped praying. For a long time. I was too angry to communicate with Jesus.
I was angry because all I wanted was a simple life. I wasn't after perfection; I just wanted what was mine. My baby.
I learned to live a new normal. I knew that the Lord hadn't left me, but I wasn't in a place where I could really trust him again. That was ok. The joy of the Lord had to be my strength. All I could do was make a conscious choice to choose joy. Sometimes it was a daily choice; sometimes second by second.
Social media became a minefield for me. I dodged pregnancy announcements, birth photos, maternity albums, and newborn sessions like my life depended on it. My sanity did depend on it. I cringed when I saw an early pregnancy announcement. Too risky. Pregnancy no longer equaled a baby for me. Pregnancy didn't end in a baby for me.
All women who lose a pregnancy or child ask the "why me" question. We want answers. We need answers. Seldom do we get them. After my 3rd loss this past March, I started praying. Soul searching. Thinking. How do I process all of this?
I write. For years I haven't felt like I had anything to say. To add. I didn't have a voice. And it was ok. It wasn't my time. I was living. I was loving. I was learning and raising my beautiful boy. Now? Still living, still loving, still learning and raising my beautiful boy, but for the first time in a long time I finally have a voice again. I have something to say. Something to add. I haven't been rescued out of my circumstances, but Jesus has a plan to turn my mess into a message, and to maybe even let it minister to someone battling through their own loss.
Are you 1 in 4? You have something to add too. Your loss was not in vain. Jesus makes beauty out of ashes. His promises are true. He will never leave us in despair. And the most beautiful part of it all is that he gives us each other. We are not alone. I am 1 in 4, but I am not defined by my losses. Neither are you.
Tell me your story. I want to hear it. Your turn.