I Just Don't Get Why She's So Sad
I'll tell you why.
A few months ago I huddled over a rack of clothing at my local Target searching for my size. Two women in deep conversation stood together nearby. I gathered that they were talking about a mutual friend who had recently lost a baby to miscarriage. At first they chatted about how to help her and how they felt unsure of what to say. Then, one said to the other, “Honestly, I just don’t get why she’s so sad.” I felt my heart quicken within me. I wanted, so badly, to be able to speak into their conversation, but knew it simply wasn’t my place.
As I perused the jeans, tank tops, and dresses, I prayed silently to myself that these women would, despite their confusion at their friend’s heartbreak, love her well in her grief. That they would allow her space to mourn her child. I prayed that God would work in their hearts to bring them to salvation (if they weren’t believers) and a correct view of life in the womb.
But if I had been able to speak up I’d have told them,
She’s sad because her baby wasn’t just a dream or an almost baby— he or she was a real, live image-bearer of God who died.
She’s sad because she will never get to know how it feels for her baby’s hand to wrap around her finger as she nurses.
She’s sad because she will never kiss her baby or hold her precious child on her chest.
She’s sad because her other children don’t take away the grief of losing this baby.
She’s sad because she won’t get to hear their little voice say, “Mama.”
She’s sad because the trauma of feeling her child’s life fade from within haunts her.
She’s sad because she never got to see her belly grow.
She’s sad because she never experienced her baby’s kicks and twirls and stretches in her womb.
She’s sad because another baby will never replace the one she lost.
She’s sad because she’s longed for a baby for so long and thought it was finally her turn.
She’s sad because she already imagined what life would be like with this child; she’d dreamed about who they would be.
She’s sad because she doesn’t know what to do with that cute little onesie she bought.
She’s sad because all she has left of her baby is a positive pregnancy test.
She’s sad because her other kids are sad.
She’s sad because she feels like her body failed her.
She’s sad because she feels like she can’t talk about how she misses her baby.
She’s sad because she misses someone she’s never met.
She’s sad because she labored a lifeless child.
She’s sad because she held her baby in the palm of her hand and it changed her.
She’s sad because she didn’t get to have a proper burial for her baby and it feels wrong.
She’s sad because it’s hard to move on as if her baby never existed.
She’s sad because her husband was so excited about being a father.
She’s sad because she feels isolated in her grief.
She’s sad because people won’t let her be sad.
PREORDER Lost Gifts: Miscarriage, Grief, and the God of all Comfort here.
ICYMI
8 Things Church Leaders Can Do to Help Couples Grieving a Miscarriage
The “Curse” of the Pregnancy Test
Forces I Cannot Touch
Hello, I Want Your Life
You are Not Your Theology
Beautiful piece 🤍
Beautiful and true ❤️