Years ago, while serving in Guatemala, John and I suffered a second miscarriage. We were devastated to say the least. Heartbroken and crushed. After a short hospital stay, my parents graciously put us up in a nice hotel in Guatemala City. Not that I saw how nice it was, because I stayed in that room for days and cried.
I’ve had a lot of heartaches, pain and the like in my life, but I think this was the first time I allowed myself to actually feel. And I did not like it. Probably why I never allowed myself to go there. Those were dark days. And I am beginning to understand that it was more than just the miscarriage. It was accumulated pain that was finally being dealt with.
But in my distress I cried out to the LORD; yes, I prayed to my God for help. Psalm 18:6
This Psalm of David sums up my time in that room. And, I am being very vulnerable here: I cried. But, I did more than cry – I lashed out. I yelled. I sobbed. I was in anguish. Does that shock you? I could not believe the depth of my emotions. They were very deep and RAW. Years and years and sorrow that I had not given myself permission to feel were now on the table.
I shook my fist. It was probably the most low I have ever been. I prayed to my God for help. I cried out to Him, the God of my salvation. I sat. I slept. I mourned. John sat. John mourned. And John allowed his very distraught wife time.
A short time later, I was confronted by someone whom we did ministry with. She could not understand how I could be in such anguish or mourning. Where was my faith, she asked? It’s just a miscarriage after all. Mind you, she had a two- year old running around. Instead of compassion, I received criticism.
You have it heard it said, “Time heals all wounds.” I do not think that is actually very accurate. God heals wounds, and time softens the sting. God was healing. He was working. As I kept my eyes on Him, I was able to keep going. Within a short time, God used this time of agony for His good – another woman, whom we did not know, had just suffered a miscarriage and she was crushed. Her friend asked if I would go and talk with her. Yes, Lord, I would go. And, she was in anguish. I knew that look and I knew that pain. Words were inadequate. What did I do? I let her cry. And cry. And cry. I also shared that I too had just lost babies, yes, human beings, and it was horrible. She was told that her baby was just tissue. A nothing. I told her that her baby was indeed a baby. And she was right to mourn and grieve. That was all the talking we did, but that was what she needed – compassion. And, this one step of obedience for me did much for my own healing.
After much testing, and doctor visits, we found ourselves pregnant again. Paranoid but elated would be a good way to describe how we were both feeling. But, we had to move on in life. We did, albeit cautiously. This time, we kept the news to ourselves for a while. The less who knew, the better. We had ministry to engage in and people to interact with – all the things we loved.
Pretty soon there were three of us ministry couples pregnant at the same time – and we were all so excited. About a month apart, and we loved to belly up whenever we could. Probably nauseating for everyone else but us. At about 7 months for me, 6 for another and almost 6 months for the third, tragedy struck. My friend who was almost six months pregnant went into premature labor and lost her baby. It was awful. And, she had to deliver him all by herself as she was in a state hospital and no husband, let alone friends, could be with her. Since John and I had a car, and the hospital was on the opposite side of the city, an hour away, we were the ones that were able to go. Remember, I was about 7 months pregnant and it was obvious I was. This friend? She was the one who criticized me for mourning over my second miscarriage. But, we had to go, we had to cry with her, comfort her, and show compassion. She was not allowed to hold her son, nor see him. She was told that he was nothing. Her arms were aching to hold her baby. We left that hospital room very sad, and upset that the hospital was so hard, cold and cruel.
She was broken, but had to carry on as she had a little toddler that she was caring for. And, we had to move on as well. In time, we gave birth to a healthy Chapin son. And soon afterwards, we were moving back home, stateside. Andrew was three and a half weeks old when we did.
Our church did a goodbye celebration on the last Sunday we were there. While at the celebration, I was pulled aside by my friend who had just suffered the devastating loss of her son. She humbly asked for forgiveness from me. She now understood how I could feel so much pain over the loss of a child through miscarriage. She now understood mourning and that each really mourn differently and the best we can do is to offer comfort and compassion. She was regretful of the pain and judgment she had towards me. Wow. I did not see this coming. At all. And of course I forgave her. Through many tears, there was healing for both of us.
He heard me from His sanctuary; my cry to Him reached His ears. Psalm 18:6b
Yes, God heard my cry. And, yes, He is big enough to handle any and every raw emotion I throw at Him. This is the lesson of the miscarriage. My God is big enough. Who else could handle all that I feel? Who else would allow me to cry myself out? No one but God. And He is an awesome Heavenly Father who loves me. Not only me, but you too.
