“Losing a child means carrying an almost unbearable grief, experienced by many but talked about by few”.
Meghan Markle recently opened up about the pain of miscarriage and rightly pointed out that for something affecting so many women, there is very little said about the issue. It’s sometimes referred to as the “final feminine taboo”. The great silence.
Perhaps due to the rising trend of sharing all of life on social media (which in itself as a plethora of complexities and issues I won’t go into here) women are slowly beginning to share their miscarriage journeys in the public eye. Crissy Teigan famously shared the loss of her son Jack at 20 weeks into her pregnancy. Binky Felstead (of Made in Chelsea fame for those who might not have a taste for channel 4 reality TV) shared the pain of going for an early scan after a bleed early on in pregnancy only to find that there was no heartbeat.
This last story is most similar to my own experience of losing my third child.
I think it is admirable that celebrities are drawing attention to these silent griefs. But I also think there is a place for the church to be a space where the grief of miscarriage is not only spoken of but grieved together.
So how can we think Biblically about miscarriage?
The importance of personhood
For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother’s womb. I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well. My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place, when I was woven together in the depths of the earth. Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be. How precious to me are your thoughts God! How vast is the sum of them! Were I to count them, they would outnumber the grains of sand— when I awake, I am still with you. (Psalm 139:13-18)
Psalm 139 is used often at baptism or dedication services. It’s included in many “Welcome to the World” cards. But it holds essential truths about the babies we will not meet this side of heaven.
One of my greatest struggles after our loss was when people used euphemisms or talked around the issue. The hospital referred to my child as the “products of conception”. People would ask if I was “better” or “fully recovered” as if I had had a winter cold.
As Christians we can hold firmly to the truth that a baby loss is just that. The loss of a person. Created, known and loved even if only weeks into a pregnancy. What we believe about life in the womb is demonstrated how we speak about miscarriage- however uncomfortable that may make people around us.
The Church grieves too
“Mourn with those who mourn” (Romans 12:15) has never felt more poignant to us. The overwhelming response from our church family was to grieve with us. We were inundated with cards, flowers, offers of help.
We were quick to share our experience (perhaps as chronic oversharers this came more easily to us than others). Others will be more private but this is not a journey to walk completely alone. When a little life is lost it is right to share this with church family. Not necessarily an announcement from the front, maybe even just 2 or 3 other people. One of God’s gifts to us is a belonging to His people. When we open up even in our pain we allow ourselves to receive the blessings of that belonging. I will be forever thankful for the way our church family grieved this journey with us.
Do not covet
Our natural tendencies are to be inward focused. The other half of that verse is to “rejoice with those who rejoice”. Sometimes that can feel hard but the Gospel allows us to hold conflicting realities together: a broken world with many of God’s good gifts still to be enjoyed. I felt the weight of this speaking to a friend who was heavily pregnant while I knew the little heart inside me had stopped beating and I was waiting to miscarry.
This experience taught me that we can grieve and rejoice at the same time. In some ways this is the entire Christian experience. Miscarriage will give us a longing for the new creation but like all suffering it should also allow us to focus on who is around us to love and serve now. I had to practice a right grief for the baby I had lost without allowing it to consume me, and learning to hold that with the immense joy I felt holding a friend’s newborn. We can grieve and rejoice at the same time.
Long for Heaven
Peter writes that we are blessed when we suffer because the reality of Heaven and the fleetingness of this world are brought home to us: “But rejoice inasmuch as you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed.” (1 Peter 4:13). I have much to enjoy in this world but death and loss should always turn our eyes to Jesus, remind us that one day death will be no more and that all wrongs will be made right.
As we buried our tiny precious package in the roots of our favourite tree, the hope of resurrection and eternity with Jesus has never been more intense in my heart. Not only that but as Christians the hope of being with our loved ones, even the ones this side of eternity who we lost too early to name, we will greet with rejoicing.
We grieve, but we do not grieve as those who have no hope.
