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I am in no way a poet, but when I sat down to write the journey I’ve been on in recent months, this is what came out. If you’re here to critique the art of the rhymes or the rhythm of each line, please spare me. It’s just pain put to words that felt sort of like therapy. (No, I did not intentionally rhyme that last line.)

Miscarriage is the knowledge of being one in four but constantly wondering, “’Why we don’t talk about this more?”

It is jealousy toward your sister because her pregnancy “stuck.” Miscarriage is a well-meaning friend saying, “Next time you’ll have more luck.” Pregnancy loss is the pain of labor with excruciating contractions only to bleed out the child that was once part of your person.

Was that too gruesome? That’s because gruesome is what miscarriage is. 

It’s the greatest injustice my body has ever known. It’s sorrow so deep, but you face it on your own. It’s pain, hurt and agony yelling out to God asking, “Why me?”

My pregnancy odds are now one in three. I have not one, but two babies in Heaven I have yet to see. 

The grief comes in waves, they say, tumbling you to the floor. You get back up only to get hit once more. Some days it’s a trickle, like the tide slowly coming in. But that makes you sad, so you long for flood waters again. 

My heart has holes only God can fill, yet the same heart harbors anger toward Him still. “You did this God, you gave me this blessing, why take it away and have part of me missing?” The beauty of God is that He can handle your pain. I give Him my all, I have no restraint. 

A good friend says at one time, two things can be true. The Lord is faithful, yet I’m angry with Him, too. Hoping and waiting is an art not lost on me. Have more patience, take deep breaths and hold on for the journey. God’s Goodness is true, His love is unending. Growing our family to four is a promise now pending.

How do you move on past the pain and fear? My personal thought is just to keep Him near. When the loss seems lonely, an isolating fate. I cling to the Lord because at least He remembers my due date. There are no good words, right or wrong to say. So, when your thoughts are lost, just remember to pray. 

My journey is still going, there’s no child inside. But the grief is more calm, like a peaceful evening’s tide. I trust in the one who holds me, I praise Him in the pain. His peace overwhelms me like a gentle Spring rain. I don’t know what tomorrow holds, my heart is still angry. But my God is good and always faithful to me.