When you were in high school or college was there ever a group, club or sorority that you wished you could be a part of? As the oldest of six kids, I always felt like we had our own club of chaos, noise, laughter and one ton Dodge vans. Everywhere I lived, I knew my closest friends would always be there. This connection as a family has been one of the strongest of my life, and I never thought that there would be another group I would relate to so well.
Flash forward to December 1, 2011. My husband Chris and I were sitting in the waiting room at my OB-Gyn’s office for my next appointment, our 12 week check up. I was actually at 13 weeks, but because of Thanksgiving, we had been pushed back a week. We were so excited . . . we were about to hear our child’s heartbeat for the first time.
An hour later, as we stared in horror at the ultrasound machine, I realized that my worst fear had come true. Although I had continued to carry as normal, our child never grew past the six or seven week mark. Instead of the joy of hearing a heartbeat, we had the crushing pain of hearing “I’m sorry . . .” I will never forget that day—the room, the pain, the tears on my husband’s face. We returned home in a completely numb state, unsure what to do next and quite honestly furious with God for allowing such a thing to happen.
Over the next several days and weeks, I struggled. At the time, I was a pastor’s wife, and for several weeks, I snuck into church after worship started and left before service ended. I couldn’t face people with well meaning words and platitudes; I literally just wanted to hide from the world. It was during this time that I became part of another group; one that spans the world and honestly shocked me at the size of it. Women that I knew from all walks of life, in every state I had ever lived in, came out of the woodwork to say, “I’ve been there. I lost a child too.”
Did you know that one in every four or five women will have a miscarriage? This is a staggering statistic that I was oblivious to before my miscarriage. It is also something as women and as followers of Christ that we are not well equipped to handle when one of our sisters is hurting.
The first year after my miscarriage was the hardest I have ever experienced in my life. I struggled with anger, with sorrow, with depression, and with questions that I had no answer to. As I began to see the Lord’s face, I clung to Ps. 62:5-8 as my lifeline.
For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence,
for my hope is from him.
He only is my rock and my salvation,
my fortress; I shall not be shaken.
On God rests my salvation and my glory;
my mighty rock, my refuge is God.
Trust in him at all times, O people;
pour out your heart before him;
God is a refuge for us.
The answer is in those words. Life is unfair, it knocks us down and the only thing we can do is cling to the hope of Christ. We can rest in His promises, in His love and His hope.
If you have a friend, sister, co-worker, etc who have had a miscarriage, let me give you a piece of encouragement. The most supportive thing you can do for them is hug them. Tell them you love them, pray with them, cry with them, and listen. Sometimes when pain is uncomfortable, we want to fill the silence with answers, and in times like these, the answer is in the love of Christ, nothing less. I have no doubt that God allowed this circumstance in our lives to bring me closer to Him. Out of my struggle with hurt and doubt, my faith and hope were strengthened more than any other time.
Hannah moved to Louisville in 2006 and began to attend Springdale not long after that. She had her husband, Chris have been married for over seven years and live in the Lyndon area. Hannah loves to read, drink copious amounts of coffee, bake like a mad woman, spend time with her nephews and nieces and pretty much anything that has to do with the Florida Gators.