four women looking down

It has been about a month and a half since our baby died.  It is surreal now to think that our baby’s heart was beating and the baby was growing inside me 2 months ago.  Life has moved on as hard as I tried to freeze it.  I just didn’t want to forget our baby.  Baby #4.  I wanted to write this devotional while the pain was fresh, while my body still hurt, and while it was still hard to breathe.  I am glad I am writing it today instead.  The dark cloud is in the distance now and there is more sunshine than I expected.  I still ache for our littlest one and I am jealous of God that He gets to be with my baby before I will.  All I know is I can’t stop thinking about you, sweet friend.  So, no matter how much this hurts, it’s time to write to you.

I don’t know where you are in your journey.  Those of us in this hideously awful club have all lost our babies at different times.  Some of you, like me, lost your baby in the first trimester – still trying to get used to the thought of bringing a baby into the world. Then it all vanished.

Some of you lost your baby in the second trimester – when the anticipation was just starting to build, and you were beginning to make plans for your life to change and include someone new.

Some of you are in your third trimester, have named your little one, and have possibly even been showered by loved ones excited to meet your little one, too.

Some of you got to see and hold your little one and your arms still ache to hold that baby one more time.

I don’t know how bad your heart has been broken.  I don’t know if you have arms to hold you and people to comfort you in your unspeakable grief.  I do know that wherever you are reading this from, I am with you in this pain.  You are not alone.  This is not the end.

As I was telling women in my life that our baby had died, there were so many reactions.  What shocked me was that literally every other woman I spoke to the first few days said, “Me, too.”  This pain, this very common agony, is all around us.  Many, many women have lost their children in miscarriage, during delivery, and in their arms.  It is not rare.

I am sad to say, friend, that it is not just you and me in this club.  I wish it were.  Actually, I wish NONE of us were in this stupid club.  Thinking of women I love having to experience this pain is beyond what I can bear.  This club.  This awful, heart wrenching club.  What do we DO with this pain?

Many of us stay silent and hope no one finds out we were ever even pregnant.  Many of us only tell our closest friends and family members and hope a new baby will ease the pain of losing this baby.  Many grow bitter and cold from the embarrassment of losing a child, thinking there is something wrong with us and that there is something to be ashamed of.

Many of us experience this pain and embarrassment, deciding “never again.” We’ll miss the celebration of their children’s lives from the very moment the secret of their lives are told.

Life is MEANT to be celebrated not hidden.

We are not supposed to be ashamed to celebrate our babies no matter how tiny they are… or were.

Women who said, “Oh, I am so sorry.  I had a miscarriage (or 2 or 3), too.  I know how you feel.”  probably got more than they bargained for in my responses…  “I am SO sorry you know how I feel.  There is nothing that could possibly prepare you for the death of a child.  I know this is common, but I don’t want my pain and the loss of my baby to be in vain.  I want others to have HOPE and to know that God is still good.”

Some just stared at me not ever having been validated as a mother.  Some were silent and embarrassed that they’d said anything to me because they’d not recognized their miscarriages as lives that were lost.  Some were relieved that someone else understood their pain and grief.  My hope is that all of them left my side feeling comfort and knowing that I was sad about their baby’s death, too.

I don’t want my pain (or yours) to be in vain.  I don’t want my baby’s life to vanish and not be honored.  I have been comforted in my pain by my friends and family and especially by God.  I want others in this stupid club to know that comfort, too.

“May God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ give you grace and peace. All praise to God, the Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. God is our merciful Father and the source of all comfort. He comforts us in all our troubles so that we can comfort others. When they are troubled, we will be able to give them the same comfort God has given us.”  2 Corinthians 1:2-4

My Prayer for you:

My prayer for you is that Jesus would comfort you and that He would show you that you are not alone.  I also pray that you will have an opportunity to comfort someone else in honor of the baby you lost.

A Prayer you Could Pray:

Dear Jesus, please comfort my family and me in this time of grieving our baby.  Please help me get to the place where I could comfort someone else in this same situation.  In Jesus’ Name, Amen

Things to Ponder, Journal and Pray about:

  • If you know anyone else in our club, now would be a good time to pray for her healing and for her to have hope.
  • What is one way you have been comforted that you can pay forward to someone else needing comfort?
  • If you don’t feel very comforted by God right now, tell Him.  He can take it if you are mad at Him.  The main thing is to keep talking to Him… and not be surprised when He starts talking back to you.  He’s been with you the whole time whether you’ve felt Him or not.

3 thoughts on “Day 1 – This Hideously Awful Club

  1. I met you today at the museum. Thank you for sharing your blog with me and giving your faith for a moment. What you did for me is the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me.
    Thank you,
    Lady with the blue streaks.


    1. Juliet,
      I’m sorry I called you by the wrong name today. I miss heard you. You are a kind woman and it was an honor to meet you today. I know God has more in store for you than the hopelessness, loneliness and despair you have felt. (Jeremiah 29:11-13) praying for you to know Peace ♥Beth


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