Today I remember Cruz Barrington whom we lost in May of 2015 at 8 weeks of gestation. Here is a post I originally published on July 30, 2015 and remembering today April 22, 2019…
I am here again in this grief, this pain, this SOUL-WRENCHING agony. It was not supposed to be this way….AGAIN. The suffering, the anguish, it is often too deep to describe in words and to expansive to explain.
This time, it was supposed to be different. I was hopeful. I was placing my trust in God as best as I knew how. I even tried medication this time. We had family and friends praying fervently in faith that this outcome would be different.
But it wasn’t!
After 8 weeks gestation, it happened again. We had the same outcome. The same pain as the year before.
Why? What happened? Why did this happen again? Why me? Give me just one decent reason, just one! There are so many questions and few, if any, answers.
Again… It has happened again!
Another miscarriage. Another life inside of me is gone. My dreams, my hopes and expectations for this child are no more. My heart is broken once again. Sadness. Confusion. Anger. Despair. Where is God’s good plan for me in this now second miscarriage in 2 years? There was a longing in my soul that was not fulfilled, yet again. The hurt is so deep and wide and high that words are a poor description to give an account of the pain.
HOW DOES ONE MOVE FORWARD?
I continue to grieve. It will be another process for me just like last time. Part of my consolation is that I do feel stronger this time around having already experienced the loss of one child in miscarriage earlier last year. In a way, I know what to expect in my grieving. I have experience with it.
While I have no sufficient answers, I have found some understanding through the lens of the Parable of the Sower found in the Bible.
Some seeds fell along the path, where the birds came and ate it up right away. In this metaphor, it could mean either an unfertilzed egg or a fertilized egg that never was implanted.
Some seeds fell along rocky places, where there was not much soil, so the seed sprang up quickly, but since the soil was shallow, when the sun came, it scorched the seed and the seed withered up ending its short life. I think of this as like a miscarriage.
Some seeds fell among thorns and began to grow strong but the thorns choked those seeds in the end. In this metaphor, it reminds me of a stillbirth.
Finally, some seeds fell on healthy, deep soil, producing multiple crops. In this metaphor, our children live to see life on earth with us. A full-term pregnancy has ended with a healthy born child.
These are four possible outcomes of the seeds. It would be wonderful if we lived in a perfect world in which all seeds fell on good soil and produced much crop, but in the imperfect world we live our seeds, our little children, may fall along other paths.
It is so hard and hurts so painfully deep sometimes that it takes my breath away!
It has also helped once again to name our child. We chose the name, Cruz, this time. Sage and Cruz are no longer with us. I often wonder what they would have looked like, smelled like, and sounded like. What would have been their hair color? What would their personality have been like? All the great things they would have accomplished in their lives here on earth, I can only imagine.
But in all of this I hold onto a belief that there is a greater purpose in their death, a bigger picture to all of this. Now I can only see in part, but later I will see the complete picture. There has to be a bigger plan here. There has to be!
My faith and spirituality helps give me understanding and support through this loss.
Reading books on miscarriage have also helped me not feel so alone in my grief. I just finished reading Empty Arms by Pam Vredevelt which does an excellent job of describing what the experience of miscarriage and stillbirth is like and how to move forward.
Watching and hearing from other moms who have lost children in miscarriage or stillbirth also helps ease the pain. It is more common than we realize.
Moms, I just hurt for you. You are not alone. I share in your pain and your grief.
I hope you have found some comfort and hope here in my second story. Please, give yourself an unlimited amount of permission to grieve and feel your feelings.
Until the next story…Bethie