My friend was two days shy of the end of her first trimester.
I have no idea what to say to her or her husband.
It hurt to hear and
I feel completely helpless.
The list of married couples I know who haven’t experienced a miscarriage may actually be smaller than those who have. It’s at least bordering on even.
But every time hurts
because each child
was already loved.
Having to experience this must be impossibly hard in itself, but having to explain it to others afterward seems like such a cruel double blow – especially when it follows someone innocently asking how Mom is doing or when the due date is.
I grieve for my friends
because their loss
is so much
heavier
than those few small pounds.
Some have already named their kids,
bought new cars
or painted rooms.
Now those empty rooms
scream
at them with silence,
and those names feel somehow
misplaced.
I don’t understand God in this. (Not that I ever do.) But regardless of what you may believe about science or God, or how they intertwine, science does not offer comfort here. Biology is cold; it teaches that these parents aren’t even parents yet, and their children aren’t even children.
But God saw us
before we were formed.
He created us
and wove each of us together (Psalm 139:15-16).
It may not help with the why, but I think it does help (a little)
knowing who these children are –
because they matter.
Until we can see them someday, after our life here,
they remain faceless to us,
but they will never be faceless
to Him.