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Dear Mom Who Just Suffered a Miscarriage,


It is hard for me to look at this picture without crying. It stirs my heart in a beautiful way. You will have better understanding for why I say that in a moment.


But first wish I could just silently be there for you, in any way you need it right now. Please give yourself permission to grieve. And please know that the Almighty Counselor (Isaiah 9:6) is right there with you. I know it is hard for some people to share your grief for a person they never met. I have learned the hard way that some people say silly things to parents who are grieving a miscarriage. Please accept my apologies on their behalf.


Regardless of how long we had with our child- life is life and death is death. And death hurts. Miscarriage is shocking, heart breaking, and often an invasion of privacy that we never anticipated having to endure.


Apparently, as much as 20% of all pregnancies end this way. But statistics don’t help much right now, do they? All they prove is that you and I are not the only ones who have gone through this.


There is something about even the term “miscarriage” that seems hurtful.  I remember that thought kept going through my mind during both of our miscarriages. I remember feeling like the term somehow implied that I had carried the baby wrong. I remember feeling guilty, inadequate, or responsible for the loss. For a long time I never shared this part of the grief with anyone, but I have since learned that I am not the only one who felt that way. Grief does funny things to us- even pitting us in attack against ourselves, in the midst of all the black confusion.


However, the reason I write to you this letter is to encourage you. I know what it is like to have hope snatched away but I have also experienced the healing power of our God.


I now look back on that season of our lives with amazement because I know how broken, raw and confused my heart was –and yet I only have peace and joy when I think of it now. This is only because our hearts were healed in one supernatural moment. Where there “should” be a black hole called grief, there is now only peace.


Let me explain what happened:


We suffered our first miscarriage in 1997. Shortly after, I became pregnant again and our healthy, strong Emma was born in January 1998.


In Spring of 2000 when we were told I was pregnant again. We were thrilled! We made announcements and started to dream about what Emma’s sibling would look like. But a few weeks later … it happened. I started showing all the signs of a “threatened pregnancy”, and then the baby was gone.


I did not want to accept this information. When I finally stopped sobbing, my heart sank to a dark place.


I felt so empty inside.  


The next morning Aaron and I were supposed to go to church for early practice, as our choir was scheduled to perform that day. The last thing we felt like doing was to perform this upbeat choir song, let alone putting out the energy to get us and our toddler ready for church. What do we do? Should we get to church where we belong on a Sunday morning, or take a morning off to grieve?


We decided to take a minute and pray about it together. We stood there talking to God like two empty shells on the living room floor. The answer that gently rose up in both of us was unmistakable. “My praise is not dependant on your circumstance.” 


We were half way through our choir practice when Aaron needed to step out the open door behind us and compose himself. As he walked in the field behind the church he saw a vision of Jesus walking toward him with two little girls. It was just like a dream, except he was wide awake. One of the girls was a babe in Jesus’ arms. The other was older, with long brown pig tails in her hair. She ran up to Aaron saying, “Daddy!” and hugged his legs. Jesus just smiled and answered the question on Aaron’s mind. “These are your daughters, and they will be here waiting for you.”


After practice, when Aaron had a chance to share the vision with me, it was as if I had seen it in that moment too. We were both filled with a “peace that surpasses understanding”. (Phil. 4:7)


That week my grandmother died and another family member was in the hospital but nothing could take away our peace. Even at my grandmother’s funeral, it was as though I was aware of everything going on but separated by a sea of glass and watching from a peaceful place. There was no delayed response. We were both taken through the grief of those events in one supernatural instant.


I learned a lot that day. I learned about what it meant to make a “sacrifice of praise”. (Heb. 13:15) Praising him in the storm is a powerful thing to do.


I also began to discover that whenever my view of God becomes clear, confusion melts away. The questions that swirled, ensnaring my mind, yelling from every direction, stopped. 


The best way I can describe it is that none of the questions mattered anymore. I just felt a peace on the events of that week, and I still do.


I have always known that we can’t imagine what it is like to experience someone else’s grief, but now I knew that we also can’t imagine God’s presence during that season- the different ways he makes himself known, shielding us from the worst, and finding us diamonds in our surroundings of coal.


I now have the privilege of raising four of God’s children here on earth, but I look forward to the time when they will meet their sisters in heaven. Aaron and I can’t help but laugh to think what it would be like to hear all our children comparing notes one day- what it was like to be raised in heaven compared to here with us.  


Sweet Momma who is reading this, I understand that every person’s journey of grief is going to look different. All I can offer you is my own story, in hopes it will encourage you.


It is okay to grieve. It is okay to be raw with God. It is okay to talk with so many of us who have been there.


I promise you, hope will grow again.


"I'll turn heartbreak valley into acres of hope." Hosea 2:15

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Posted by: Anna Wozniak
Posted on: 2/19/2016 at 2:43 PM
Tags: , ,
Categories: Miscarriage | Raising Children
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Comments (2) -

Heather Canada

Saturday, February 20, 2016 12:53 PM


Thank you Anna for sharing, it was five years ago, we lost our little girl and these words are so encouraging. God is good, no matter what we are going through. Hugs xx

Anna Canada

Wednesday, February 24, 2016 11:25 AM


Heather, I am sorry to hear about your loss. He really is good, isn't he? It amazes me that he knows how to reach each of us and make the difficult do-able. He knows we each hear differently, and he knows how to speak with each of us. I love that his creativity has no end!

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