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On Miscarriage: Pregnant, Not Pregnant
By Christina Hamilton Miscarriage is such an awkward and horrific thing. Horrific for the woman who loses her baby and awkward for those who love her. No one knows what to say or do. It happened to me. Just a few weeks before my twenty-fourth birthday, I was surprised to discover I was pregnant with my second child. I was late, of course but that is not always the reason. However, I knew for sure that I could be pregnant when my telltale sciatic nerve began acting up while I was giving my two-year-old son his bath. A quick test the next day and a trip to the OB-GYN confirmed it.…
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Offering Forgiveness When You Would Rather Not
By Vanessa Rasanen This Spring was hard. Well, about 6 months of this year was hard. I’d like to say that was solely due to our losing three babies early into the pregnancies, but to be honest, peace for our lost little ones came somewhat quickly. Much quicker than I expected. Yes, even after the first loss. Instead, I traded grief and mourning for bitterness and frustration. Okay, frustration is a lie. I was pissed. Hurt, angry, enraged. Seething, might be a good word. Someone’s words regarding that first miscarriage had hit hard and cut deep just a day or two after we found out. The initial shock and disbelief soon…
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The Loneliness As We Sit Together
By Vanessa Rasanen Last week I wrote about hope. This week so much of that hope is gone. Even when I’m able to spend 5, 10, 30 minutes focused on a project or helping one of my children get dressed or giving them a bath or rocking them to sleep, it doesn’t take long for this painful reality to come and smack me in the face again. Our baby’s dead. Not even alive long enough for his or her heart to start beating. Dead. Gone. And as if that knowledge wasn’t difficult enough as it is… there is the physical reminder, the discomfort, the pain, and the visible evidence of…
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Loss, Grief, and Miscarriage
–This post was submitted anonymously. I had a miscarriage, and it’s a secret. My child, which was being knit together by God in a secret place died, and became a secret also. He was alive inside me long enough for me to begin dreaming about what his life would be like, but not long enough to seem real now as I look back to this shadowy time in my life. This child, who in my imagination was my son, was a gift given to me years after I had given up the possibility of carrying a child. My pregnancy test turned positive only hours before I heard my pastor preach…
