Truths I've Learned
By Brynna Smith · Jan 01, 2017
I have had 11 miscarriages—and have five living children—in 14 years of marriage. These losses are still pretty raw for me, but I don’t want to contribute to the silence that surrounds miscarriage. Miscarriage is hard. Those hopes and dreams are empty without a baby to fulfill them. You have to find a way to move on knowing you won’t hold that baby and watch that child grow up. No one should have to suffer through that alone.
Here are some truths I’ve learned that I hope will help you:
Guard your heart.
Bitterness and envy can creep in after the loss of babies, and having living babies doesn’t make it go away. Eleven years after my first miscarriage, some days I still struggle as much as ever. Sometimes I think I have a horribly hard heart, and feel like if anyone knew the “real” me, they’d be disgusted. I struggle on a daily basis to take every thought captive, to pray before every single move I make, and to be content.
“Young and healthy” doesn’t mean an easy pregnancy.
It does not mean you can’t or won’t miscarry. We married when I was 18, and a year later we went through our first miscarriage, followed by another the next year. I felt lonely, as if my friends considered me a “freak of nature” because I was young and wanted children, but even more because I had problems with pregnancy.
Most people don’t know how to talk about your loss.
Often it’s because they are uncomfortable. Talk of miscarriage is somewhat “taboo” in our society. When it goes ignored, that is more painful. Healing happens for me when people talk about my experience and share their own, listen to me, pray for me, never say “I understand” when they don’t, and allow me to grieve as I need to.
You can miscarry after successfully having children.
I had three of my precious children after my first two losses. Then I had trouble with miscarriage again. I was surprised that I felt I should have “outgrown” that stage. One of my losses was in the late first trimester. To walk around with a baby inside me who was no longer living was strange. Part of me was relieved I had an answer about our baby’s life, part was anxious as I waited for the miscarriage to happen, and part was horrified I was still pregnant with a baby who wasn’t alive. Our seventh loss was my most traumatic, a “misdiagnosed” ectopic pregnancy. I desperately wish I had relied on my intuition and knowledge. Because I didn't heed those internal red flags, I ended up in emergency surgery with a long and difficult recovery.
Future pregnancies will never be the same.
Loss changes everything. To find out you are pregnant is a wonderful time of excitement. But it’s also terrifying after you have experienced loss. You have to be vulnerable. One of my greatest difficulties is understanding God’s will, to learn to take comfort in His presence no matter what the situation, find joy in each moment He gives me, and trust Him, whatever the outcome. I’m certain it’s the true answer, but it’s a battle.
Praise God in trials.
I’ve learned and firmly believe that children are miracles. I never stop praising God for them. But these trials have shaped me in ways I didn’t expect. God has been faithful, and He’s sustained me, but there have been days where my belief has been shaken. To learn to praise God in the storm is something I’ve yet to master. I know our God—the one and only Author of life—works all things together for good.
Through many losses, God has allowed me to be in a ministry that exists to help women in the same situation. I have a testimony that I wouldn’t have had otherwise, and that brings me joy. I know that even though I’ve been hurt, God is healing me, and I can relate to other women and help them through their own grief.
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