Yesterday, on the one-week anniversary of finding out I’d miscarried, I delivered our child into the world. God gave us the grace of seeing his perfect little body, unmarred by blood and entirely recognizable.
I was in awe, truly.*
After that, however, the rest of the miscarriage was more than a bit intense. As per my doctor’s instructions, I had to call my husband home from work (always a source of guilt); take 800 mg. of ibuprofen to slow things down (if you know what I mean); and rest rest rest. In the end I did not need to go to the ER after all.
I did, however, get to work my way happily through the bag of Doritos that my husband brought home, and I got to read to my heart’s content. That’s the very best part of bed rest, isn’t it? I finished this story (“But that’s our read-aloud!” protested my five-year-old) which was very good and which I highly recommend.
Anyway.
That is where the physical side of life would have me. On an emotional note, the grief process continues. Yesterday evening, after the kids had gone to bed and while a spring storm pounded the windows, I looked again at that little figure and I cried…and cried…and cried.
Suffering and tears are so hard for me. I am tempted to think that I am not being faithful because I am letting myself feel sorrow. I know this is not the case—after all, Jesus suffered and Jesus wept—but there you have it. I can very much see how suffering can bring about either one’s spiritual growth…or one’s spiritual demise. I am praying for the former!
But still it’s hard.
I will close with a beautiful prayer that one of my readers shared with me. May God bless you today and always. Love your family with all your heart and let your life (and God’s will) unfold slowly.
“Lord, teach me to be patient – with life, with people, and with myself. I sometimes try to hurry things along too much, and I push for answers before the time is right. Teach me to trust Your sense of timing rather than my own and to surrender my will to Your greater and wiser plan. Help me let life unfold slowly, like the small rosebud whose petals unravel bit by bit, and remind me that in hurrying the bloom along, I destroy the bud and much of the beauty therein.
Instead, let me wait for all to unfold in its own time. Each moment and state of growth contains loveliness. Teach me to slow down enough to appreciate life and all it holds.
Amen.
Ad Jesum per Mariam,
*If you would like to see a photo of our little Thomas, email me privately and I would be happy to share it with you.
you said: “Suffering and tears are so hard for me. I am tempted to think that I am not being faithful because I am letting myself feel sorrow. I know this is not the case—after all, Jesus suffered and Jesus wept—but there you have it. I can very much see how suffering can bring about either one’s spiritual growth…”
Yes, but first, sadly, we have to *feel* the suffering. So keep crying and know that you’re being faithful. If life weren’t so precious, we would not be so devastated when it was lost.
You have to shed the tears … how else can He wipe them away?
The Lord wouldn’t have given us important things in our lives, if when lost, we didn’t grieve their loss.
All of the innocents in heaven are praying for you, too. Mine, yours and everyone else’s too.
Blessings to you Margaret as you work your way through this.
Dear Margaret. You have been and continue to be in my daily prayers. You are such a beautiful gift to all who know you. You ar`very much loved by everyone.
praying that God will turn your mourning into dancing. I can’t imagine how difficult this is…I’m thinking of you each day.
Prayers!
By allowing yourself to grieve, you open wide the doors of your heart to the healing Our Lord has for you. He loves you. He is our family. Trust in the Lord with all thine heart . . . don’t trust in your own understanding, but acknowledge Him always and He will direct your way.
Thank you for being so human and real and accessable and loveable. You are His daughter and He loves you very much.
You have our prayers.
Karen says it all so well. Continuing my prayers for you, dear Margaret. Big hugs coming your way.
I am praying for you and Baby Thomas today, Margaret.
Oh Margaret!! My heart is broken for you. Know that we are praying for you, and will continue to pray. God Bless!
Prayers and hugs to you.
Margaret –
Know that you are in my prayers daily.
Praying for all of you, Margaret.
Your precious little Thomas will be being held close by the Mother of God ……
Margaret,
I have been a long time reader, have never commented. Your faith, beauty and strength comes through your words. Our prayers are being sent up for you and your family. Though I can not understand your pain, as women we can take on each other’s crosses. Know there are many out in this blog world helping to carry a small amount of your burden. You are so faithful, and I know you know God loves, take some time to actually let yourself “feel” that love. He will let you know He is there always.
Lori
Oh Margaret. It breaks my heart to read this, for you and for your husband and son. But even our perfect Blessed Mother suffered anguish and sorrow and surely she wept devastating tears. She understands and knows. More than anyone. I will keep you in my prayers.
Our Lady of Sorrows, please pray and console and comfort Margaret and hold close that sweet tiny boy.
Amen Karen e! We are praying for your whole family. And also praying for those who do not understand the sorrow of lost life. Its a burden but also a gift.
We are praying for you, hard, at our house.
You are in my prayers…
Many, many, ((((HUGS))), prayers for you.
I am so very sorry for your loss. Never having had a miscarriage, I can’t imagine what you are going through. Seeing your child must have brought such mixed emotions – to see a beautiful child whose life was so short must have been devastating, but to see your child, to mounrn him must have brought you some closure.
I will continue to pray for you and your family and especially for Thomas.
Praying for you and yours, Margaret. May God bless you and give you peace during this time of sorrow. May our Blessed Mother hold you, gently but tightly, in her loving arms. May her Son grant you grace and mercy, even as you join your suffering with His.
Dear Margaret,
Never having a miscarriage, but seeing my mother have 4 after having the 5 of us I can feel some of your loss. I cannot imagine your pain, because I am not you. Blessings to you and prayer is coming your way.
As a physician, I have held in my hands such little tiny babies. As heart-wrenching and tear-provoking as it is, at the same time it is so amazing to see such perfectly formed little bodies.
That said, not having being through it from your side, I can’t imagine how difficult that must be. I keep you in my prayers.
Janet
I don’t know what to say, Margaret. I remember all the crying I did last summer. It was so necessary. Know that I’m thinking of you and praying for you and your family.
Dearest Margaret and Family -my deepest sympathy on your loss. My the love of your family and the Lord see you through the loss of your son.
Margaret, please know that you are in my prayers.
Margaret,
These wiser women have said it much better than I ever could. I just wanted to let you know that I’m thinking about you and praying for your family.
Hugs and Prayers for You, Baby Thomas and your family…
Margaret,
To you and your family, my deepest sympathies. I cannot fathom your suffering and hope that you gain comfort through your prayers and the support of your family and friends.
God bless you and your family, Jennie C directed me to your blog via post. I lost a baby two weeks ago myself…our third in less than two years. And fifth altogether.
I didn’t take pictures, but I regret it at this point. Please know that we are praying for your healing, both physical and emotional.
I cannot come up with any words to say. I have been trying for days to find the words to express the sympathy I feel for you and your family and say something, anything that would help you.
Instead I offer something else. Know that you, your family and Thomas are in my thoughts and prayers.
Oh, yes, please, you do need to cry. I’m sitting here wiping away tears for you, too. I thought it was stronger/better not to cry for my first poor lost baby, and didn’t cry for him for fifteen years… And that’s not a good thing. When I finally understood it was OK to mourn, I cried for four months! And I’m crying with you now, too. Many of us out here understand a little. He understands completely.