Hope for Overcoming a Sad Statistic
This past month I was made aware of a heartbreaking statistic.
It is a statistic that I wish I knew nothing about. Perhaps then I could remain in ignorance in regards to the subject and leave the soapbox to someone else. However, knowing the prevalence of the issue I am compelled to speak out.
According to all North American medical associations approximately 1 in 5 mothers are grieving the loss of a child through a pregnancy that has ended in miscarriage. Other sources claim the numbers are closer to 1 in 4…even as high as 1 in 3.
Those numbers shouldn’t have surprised me. I can reach out to my circle of family and friends and easily touch that ratio of women who have experienced such a loss. And when it comes down to it, the numbers aren’t why I feel compelled to write. The numbers simply affirm that there are indeed a large number of women who have known this grief, struggled to get through it, and (this is the part that breaks my heart)…suffered in silence.
Silence.
The more I hear women confessing to have experienced a miscarriage at some point in their life, the more I am pained to hear many of them tell how they have done it (for the most part) alone…moving through their grief privately, telling no one save a select few – perhaps a spouse or parent.
In my mind, this is by far the more troubling statistic.
I know the pain of losing a child. I wish I did not. For me, the grief is still fresh…not enough time has even passed to allow protective callouses to form over my heart. But even this early on, there is one thing I know. One thing I have experienced first hand.
I am better to not have suffered in silence…but in transparency and candidness. This bump in life’s road has jarred me but good. It has touched every part of me and remains with me every moment of the day. I feel for the women who make an attempt to distance themselves from it and “get through it,” hoping that someday the grief will not be so raw. Telling themselves that it is normal for it to come and go…that like the waves of the ocean the rough breaks will in time come less frequently, until one day the ocean of emotion is relatively calm.
I disagree.
I expect a tinge of sadness to last my lifetime…until the moment I am reunited with that child and Jesus Himself hands the little one over to me for an eternity of cuddling; making up for the earthly stint of hugs and kisses of which I was robbed. But as for the grief… I must say that in sharing this part of my life as openly as I have over the past few weeks…that period of time was foreshortened remarkably. Grieving this openly and honestly has not only brought me incredible peace…but undeniable JOY!! Holding my grief with an open hand enabled Him to take it away in HIS TIME…NOT MINE. Surprisingly, His time ended up being a lot shorter than I expected it to be!! And not only did He take it away. He left in its place, something far better.
It breaks my heart that there are a whole lot of moms out there who have lost babies in a similar manner and for one reason or another chose to keep it to themselves until months later. If you are one of them, please know…my heart hurts for you and I desire for you to know the peace that my Lord has filled me with. Oh...and let's not forget the JOY! I recently talked with a friend of mine about one day meeting our babies in heaven. Her words were laced with joyous anticipation as she spoke of looking forward to the gift she knows already awaits her in Heaven!!
If you hear anything I am saying here it is this: Losing a child in this manner is dreadfully common. Don’t let the silence of many make you think you are alone. I have been blessed to find out I am not. Secondly…if you are holding your grief in a tight grip, all to yourself, consider opening your hand and letting those around you be a vehicle for His peace, encouragement and healing. In my experience, He is more than able…
God truly has given me (and my family) “Beauty for ashes, strength for fear, gladness for mourning and peace for despair” (Isaiah 61:3). What a glorious trade!
It is a statistic that I wish I knew nothing about. Perhaps then I could remain in ignorance in regards to the subject and leave the soapbox to someone else. However, knowing the prevalence of the issue I am compelled to speak out.
According to all North American medical associations approximately 1 in 5 mothers are grieving the loss of a child through a pregnancy that has ended in miscarriage. Other sources claim the numbers are closer to 1 in 4…even as high as 1 in 3.
Those numbers shouldn’t have surprised me. I can reach out to my circle of family and friends and easily touch that ratio of women who have experienced such a loss. And when it comes down to it, the numbers aren’t why I feel compelled to write. The numbers simply affirm that there are indeed a large number of women who have known this grief, struggled to get through it, and (this is the part that breaks my heart)…suffered in silence.
Silence.
The more I hear women confessing to have experienced a miscarriage at some point in their life, the more I am pained to hear many of them tell how they have done it (for the most part) alone…moving through their grief privately, telling no one save a select few – perhaps a spouse or parent.
In my mind, this is by far the more troubling statistic.
I know the pain of losing a child. I wish I did not. For me, the grief is still fresh…not enough time has even passed to allow protective callouses to form over my heart. But even this early on, there is one thing I know. One thing I have experienced first hand.
I am better to not have suffered in silence…but in transparency and candidness. This bump in life’s road has jarred me but good. It has touched every part of me and remains with me every moment of the day. I feel for the women who make an attempt to distance themselves from it and “get through it,” hoping that someday the grief will not be so raw. Telling themselves that it is normal for it to come and go…that like the waves of the ocean the rough breaks will in time come less frequently, until one day the ocean of emotion is relatively calm.
I disagree.
I expect a tinge of sadness to last my lifetime…until the moment I am reunited with that child and Jesus Himself hands the little one over to me for an eternity of cuddling; making up for the earthly stint of hugs and kisses of which I was robbed. But as for the grief… I must say that in sharing this part of my life as openly as I have over the past few weeks…that period of time was foreshortened remarkably. Grieving this openly and honestly has not only brought me incredible peace…but undeniable JOY!! Holding my grief with an open hand enabled Him to take it away in HIS TIME…NOT MINE. Surprisingly, His time ended up being a lot shorter than I expected it to be!! And not only did He take it away. He left in its place, something far better.
It breaks my heart that there are a whole lot of moms out there who have lost babies in a similar manner and for one reason or another chose to keep it to themselves until months later. If you are one of them, please know…my heart hurts for you and I desire for you to know the peace that my Lord has filled me with. Oh...and let's not forget the JOY! I recently talked with a friend of mine about one day meeting our babies in heaven. Her words were laced with joyous anticipation as she spoke of looking forward to the gift she knows already awaits her in Heaven!!
If you hear anything I am saying here it is this: Losing a child in this manner is dreadfully common. Don’t let the silence of many make you think you are alone. I have been blessed to find out I am not. Secondly…if you are holding your grief in a tight grip, all to yourself, consider opening your hand and letting those around you be a vehicle for His peace, encouragement and healing. In my experience, He is more than able…
God truly has given me (and my family) “Beauty for ashes, strength for fear, gladness for mourning and peace for despair” (Isaiah 61:3). What a glorious trade!
Comments
I really appreciated your post. I don't really know what to say - just that your openess is refreshing and there are so many moms out there that need to know they aren't alone. I felt alone during my two losses - but my babies are waiting for me in heaven, I know this & it does bring me comfort.
It has been a long emotional road for me & my husband (more me though) :-) and as much as I missed my little ones this last Mother's Day (for some reason, I thought about them a lot that day) I also look into my 11 month old daughters eyes and realize that God is faithful - our desire was to have another baby & He gave us her.
I remember crying out to God - saying that He had given me far more than I could bear but He hadn't - and He carried me some days, held my hand on others.
Thank you again for you post it meant a lot to me.
susan