Sunday, January 5, 2014

The Pain Worse Than Labor

Today's post is a bit of a sad one. To explain, this is something that I wrote in September following the loss of our first pregnancy. We decided at the time to keep our miscarriage a secret since we hadn't told anyone about the pregnancy and writing this really helped me put into words what I was feeling. Since opening up about our loss, we have learned that we are by no means alone. A staggering 25-35 % of all pregnancies result in loss, especially first time pregnancies. This percentage of women remain all too quiet, it shocked me to even see that statistic, I felt so alone! I truly believed that pregnancy was this concrete miracle and that very few people experienced loss. The hardest aspect of a miscarriage is that pregnancy forever loses its innocence. Every pregnancy to follow is covered in worry that every twinge is disaster. We pray our way through every second until we reach the second trimester and can utter a sigh of relief. It is a long 14 weeks. 

My hope with this post is not that Mom's with all successful pregnancies will feel sad or guilty, please don't! My hope is that those who have experienced loss will realize that it happens, and it happens frequently! You are not alone and it is NOT your fault. This is the body's way of terminating an unhealthy pregnancy, whether due to fetal defects or defects in the baby's environment. Most importantly, there is a God-given rainbow at the end of this storm. There may be several storms, I am so sorry if that is the case. However, my rainbow baby (now at 15 weeks) means more to me than anything in this world. And I pray every single day that the plan God has already made for this sweet baby is for a life centered on God and glorifying to his name. 

When you read this please take the time to realize what a miracle birth is. There is no way that science can be solely responsible for such a divine experience. God Bless you all! 


The Pain Worse Than Labor

They always say that childbirth is the worst pain of all. You hear groups of women clad in their newest outfits sharing stories like fisherman around restaurant tables. The 10 lb. bass and the 10 lb. baby, they are all the same. The ultimate battle of the sexes: childbirth vs. the passing of a kidney stone.

We want to be moms, whether by plan or by surprise. Each maturing girl knows to expect the pain but “it is so worth it” and “the joy is so great that you forget the pain and end up doing it multiple times.” We hear, we believe. Men have it so easy.

What matters is what isn’t being said.

We bleed but we hold it all inside. Some can spread the burden while others decide its best to minimize the damage.

What isn’t being said is that there is a pain worse than the laboring of birth. Quietly the quarter suffer just to be a statistic.

This life we held inside will never be loved by anyone but us. There will be no ridiculous bonnets and cigars. With each cramp our dream slips away into a vague memory of an experience we expected to be clouded with innocence. The future only holds fear and the hope of a redeeming gift, if we can get past the anxiety of a reoccurrence.  

Veiled sympathy surrounds us. For the announcement that was never made, the parents suffer alone. We open just to be told, “It happens.” But the question of why still lingers as we waddle in maxis.

The truth is, we yearn for the loss of that pain. We wanted to contract and hone breathing techniques. There is no first cry at the end of this tunnel.
We know in our hearts its all a part of the plan but it was not a part of our plan. That hurts.

The hormones decrease as our body expels what we wanted so badly. We vary between numbness, harmful thoughts, agony and sadness; are we losing our minds? But to the white coats and standbys, it is all “normal.” It doesn’t feel normal.

You grieve alone and have to continue the pursuit of happiness with everyone else. From the highest high to the lowest low all we can do is keep marching and try again.

For now we remain silent in our suffering and endure your poetic remarks “it is just like a heavy period,” “well maybe you weren’t ready anyways.”

The innocence of the experience is forever lost for us and until we get our redemption we will continue to “like” your announcements, buy your precious baby shoes, and convulse every time we pass the MTV programming listing. Because after all, who values the miracle of life and childbirth more than we?



  1. You are certainly are not alone. This is what I wrote after I experienced my miscarriage and then went back to work as a toddler teacher at a day care:

    Your red cheeks would be walking towards me
    On this chilly morning,
    I’d take your face in my hands and kiss you on your nose,
    I’d walk you inside and I’d warm up your toes
    And there would be no personal space,
    I would keep my lips rested on your face,
    I’d laugh into your cold cheek and you’d smile warmth into my neck -
    I’m sure you’d look as content, as content as he does with it
    In some way that doesn’t quite make sense,
    I feel as though I owe you this
    To wholly express all that love can be
    Fully, completely, to the highest degree
    Yes, even though this is not your skin and these are not your fingers,
    Your soul and spirit seem to smile on this moment as it lingers
    This, I can not picture with any certainty
    But I am aware that it is beautiful to me
    My heart softens to its most natural state
    With no guard, no fear, no reason to hesitate
    I am capable of this authentic love, this transcendental grace
    Only when I imagine your precious face
    The awe and the reverence that I gain in those moments,
    I hold onto as life’s only worthwhile ornaments

  2. Thank you for this. You definitely have a way of saying what (unfortunately) so many women feel.