Suffering

Help After Miscarriage: The Role of "Older" Women

In Paul’s letter to Titus, he tells the young pastor (among other things) to have the older women disciple the younger women in his congregation. He then goes on to list the various things that older women are to train younger women in. These commands have become the foundation for countless women’s ministries across the global church. While these imperatives do not cover the variety of practical day to day occurrences in the life of a woman striving for godliness, the general theme of Titus 2 provides a framework for how we are to live.

I have believed the words of Titus 2:3-5 for a while now. And by God’s grace, have worked hard to live accordingly (both as a mentee and mentor). I didn’t realize how much I needed an older woman until after we lost our baby.

God has been so kind to provide countless “older” women in my life, and that sweet blessing has continued in the months since the miscarriage. It hasn’t always been women older than me numerically, but regardless of age, their wisdom from personal experience has been a lifeline for me in recent days. God has ministered to me through women who have walked this road many years prior, or a few months ago. With every conversation (whether a single instance or multiple meetings), I have heard the all-important words, “You will make it through this intact. God will strengthen you. He will keep you. I know, because he kept me.” I needed to hear women say they still cry about their loss. I needed to hear that grief is necessary and doesn’t always have a timetable. But I also needed (and still need) to hear that God will bring me through this.

I remember vividly attending a conference a week and a half after the miscarriage and really struggling with being in a crowd of people, while having to be happy for that long of a period of time (and if you know me, crowds are life-giving to me normally). On two separate occasions God used two older women to cry with me, pray with me, and share in my hurt. These were God appointed times, where these women were obedient to God’s prompting that a hurting sister needed encouragement. Through them, I felt God’s loving care over my dark circumstance. He used them to part the heavy clouds, even if it was only for a short time.

Some women have been more invested in me than others, simply by the nature of our relationship. They are in it for the long haul; asking the hard questions, praying for me regularly, and seeking to encourage me through a common shared experience. One dear friend told me (after talking with me on the phone for almost an hour after we lost the baby), “you have now crossed over into a group of women that is bonded through this loss, even though we would never have chosen it, it bonds us.”

It’s true.

We need Titus 2 relationships regardless of our circumstances. We need people in our lives. But we need them in our lives before tragedy strikes so they can walk through pain with us. If you are an “older” woman, who has experienced a loss (and you are ready emotionally), one of the most influential ways you can help a woman in the aftermath of a miscarriage is to be the “older” woman for her. Cry with her. Listen to her. Empathize with her. Share your story and let her know that she will survive. Your investment matters. God used these women in my life to hold me up. I know he can use you.

Would I have survived without these women surrounding me? Of course. I have an amazing husband, and more importantly, I have an amazing God. But it surely helped. And for that I am eternally grateful.

Help After Miscarriage: Hope for Them

Yesterday, I talked about how helpful prayer is in the weeks and months following a miscarriage. One of the things that has been such a blessing to me since we lost the baby is how much hope other people have had for us. We’ve received emails and cards with hope-filled words. Women who are dear and close to me have hoped in God’s goodness for me when I couldn’t bring myself to hope—or when I couldn’t see far enough ahead to hope.

God is All I Need

In his book Future Grace, John Piper says that “suffering helps us see that God is all we need.” Before we lost the baby I knew that conceptually, but didn’t fully grasp it. I see things differently now. When the life you want so desperately is taken from you, all you are left with is Christ. Before we got pregnant I thought I “needed” this baby. I wouldn’t have admitted it to you. But all of my actions and talk would reveal a heart that was banking all of my joy on whether or not I could get pregnant quickly. I don’t feel that way anymore. I do desperately want to have another baby. But I don’t “need” a baby like I thought I did. Sadly, it took losing our baby for me to realize the idol having a child had become.

Joining the Everlasting Song

The other day I was listening to Together for the Gospel Live by Bob Kauflin. While leading the musical worship he said something that struck me. He said, "we may just be beginning our song this morning, but we are joining a greater song that is already going on." When we sing our praises to God, we are joining with the saints around the throne of King Jesus. That made me weep.

Hope Found in an Old Story

I always forget how much I love reading the Gospels until I begin reading them again. And then I am struck with the richness of the story. God came to earth. Even grander than that, he came as a little, helpless baby. We get to read this story on the other side of history. For the characters partaking, they don’t know how it will all unfold.

One Month Later

In some ways it feels like it has been an eternity since we lost our baby, not one month. It feels even stranger to say that it has been 30 days. But it has. Our hearts are healing. And while we grieved in the immediate aftermath of the miscarriage, there are days where it feels like the grief is just beginning. When it first happened I was in shock. I cried for days. But most of the time I was just floating through life, holding on and barely getting my most basic tasks done.

Comfort in the Storm

"The painful things that come into our lives are not described by God as accidental or as out of his control. This would be no comfort. That God cannot stop a germ or a car or a bullet or a demon is not good news; it is not the news of the Bible. God can. And ten thousand times he does. But when he doesn't, he has his reasons. And in Christ Jesus they are all loving. We are taught this sovereignty so that we will drink it in till it saturates our bones. He is getting us ready to suffer without feeling unloved."

When Sorrow Doesn't Feel "Light"

Before the miscarriage I used to hear verses like Romans 8:28 and 1 Corinthians 4:17 and think “of course God works everything for good. Of course afflictions only last for a moment.” Lately when I hear things like “this light, momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory” (2 Cor. 4:17), I have a tendency to want to say “but it doesn’t feel light and momentary!” Because honestly, in these moments, it feels like the sorrow will last forever. It feels like it won’t ever go away. The sting might lessen. But, for us, we will be missing our baby for the rest of our earthly lives—even if God blesses us with more children. And there is nothing that feels light and momentary about that.

There Will Come a Day

I know I have only written about our baby in recent days, but honestly it's what permeates my thoughts most days. I've been able to process more, and I hope to post that soon. Initially I couldn't think about anything. My mind was just a blur and I felt like I was coasting through life, riding on the prayers of other people. And they have been such a blessing. I still feel that way at times, but today I feel okay, so I am writing. I say "today" because I really don't know what each day holds for my emotions. And I'm okay with that.