I sat at my MOPS meeting last week listening to one of our mentor moms, she was giving a testimony on God’s faithfulness, and about miscarriage and infant loss, because October, and specifically October 15, is miscarriage and infant loss month/day. I surprisingly didn’t cry while she talked, when usually that’s the first thing I do when I am confronted with my miscarriages…but I didn’t. Maybe it’s because I have given several talks on the subject myself, maybe it’s because I have walked other women through having a miscarriage, maybe it’s because I am so open now about my own miscarriages, maybe it’s because God has healed that wound. It’s probably all of these things.
As our mentor concluded her testimony and devotion, she asked if those who had suffered from a miscarriage or infant loss could raise their hand, so they could receive a rose in recognition of their loss and the promise of God’s healing. I quietly raised my hand and turned around to view the room. You see, my table was at the front of our meeting space, and I was seated almost directly in front of our mentor mom who was speaking, offering me no knowledge of how the other MOPs moms in the room were reacting. As I turned, I was shocked…at least half of the room, full of women, had their hands raised. I saw red eyes and tears streaming. I saw tissues being passed and hugs given.
Wow, we are so not alone. But man, we sure feel alone!
After all the roses were passed and prayers were said, I headed to the bathroom and was unable to clear the image of all those raised hands. And while I was washing my hands, tears started to bubble up. Not for my own losses, but for all those women, for those I know and those that I don’t that have suffered in silence and felt alone. Those who felt they were the only ones to ever go through this, who had to sit in their Ob’s office surrounded by pregnant women while they waited for their appointment to confirm they had indeed lost their baby, who had to send out another announcement, whose body felt the surge of pregnancy hormones only to dramatically drop them, sometimes in a span of only a few weeks. I cried for all of them.
We need better for these women. We need care and love and solidarity. We need to give them a place to land, to grieve and feel safe. We need obstetricians and midwives to come up with a different protocol then what is practiced now for women who have miscarried or are in the process.
I do not have all the answers to these needs, other than to say I am 1 in 4 too. I have been on that road, 4 times actually, and you are NOT alone.
On my way home from my meeting I was listening to Connection by OneRepublic, and a verse struck me hard…
“If there’s so many people here, then why am I so lonely.”
And the tears started to bubble again. Naw gurl, you are not alone, and I am going to do my best to see that you know that from now on…Love, Erin
5 thoughts on “You are NOT alone. I am 1 in 4.”
So very well written. I too, am a 1 in 4, at a time when there was really no comfort given when losing a pregnancy. It was hidden, an embarrassment to be only whispered. In retrospect, I did feel fortunate that I had you to go home to and the blessing that God had given me. For others, it isn’t like that, going home to reminders of the dream that didn’t come true. Grieving is needed, comfort is needed, support is needed, prayer is needed.
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This blessed me in so many ways. Thank you so much. I hate I missed the meeting but glad to know that my tribe was well loved on and cared for as usual!
I’m so glad!! You are welcome ♥️
Great post Erin! You write so well.
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