Finding Hope Through Loss | A Personal Journey of Miscarriage

Writing has always been an outlet of healing for me.

Even as a little girl, I remember taking a pencil to an empty journal my mom brought home from her classroom and writing fictional books with made-up characters that before lived only in my imagination.

Writing has always been a healing outlet for me, so here I am for the first time…

We lost a baby.

It took me weeks to even write those words, but I’m here to tell you my journey of finding hope through loss. Not as an expert, but as a mom in a messy bun, taking a moment alone during my littles nap time, as I sit next to the butterfly tree we got to remember our little baby who stopped beating at 12 weeks.

And yes, mama, there is hope through loss.

A promise of so much more than what our eyes can see.

The hope of life eternal, here and now, and here to come.

That’s true hope through loss.

Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then… THEN, we will see everything with perfect clarity.

All that I know now is partial and incomplete – but then I will know everything completely, just as God knows me completely. – 1 Corinthians 13:11-12

I’ve been the friend to walk beside so many loved ones in their journeys of loss. In seasons of struggle, waters of uncertainty, depths of despair, and droughts of disappointment. I’ve been the one whispering the promise of God’s character to their weary souls when their wilderness seemed too much to bear alone.

I’ve held the hand of a widow, in the waters of asking, “why.” I’ve witnessed the warfare of barren sisters longing to be mothers. I’ve held the hands of dear friends in the wilderness of postpartum, some never meeting their baby on this side of heaven. I was there, holding their hands and hearts to heaven, never knowing first hand the journey they were walking.

Their story has never been my story.
Their story has never been OUR story.

And even now, walking alongside my husband, as loss is now part of us, it’s still not our story.

It’s GOD’S… But not in the way you may think.

Loss is not from God’s hand.

This is not His perfect will for our family.

As his beloved daughter, I know that death and loss do not come from his hand. Not to teach me a lesson, or for someone to echo the phrase I hate more than anything on the planet, “everything happens for a reason.”

Yes, it does happen for a reason, and the reason being that we live in a fallen world that was never meant to be part of our story.

Not the way God created it.

I know that because I know HIM.
That’s why I can have hope through loss!
I know HIS heart, I’ve seen His faithfulness, experienced his redeeming power, and felt his love and covering of peace in unimaginably painful times.
I’ve seen the Shepard who isn’t afraid of my valley place, and will not leave me to get trapped as I navigate through.

I’ve felt the heartache, shed the tears, voice shaky, and shattered as I whispered, “I know You are good, even if this is not.”

I’ve leaned on the solid foundation of the unfathomable word of God as the only truth in my life, even if in this world, I walk through waters I don’t understand. As we keep our eyes above the waves that we were never meant to trudge through, never meant to be part of our story.

There is something beautiful about a valley -it exposes a vantage point that only sees the view of victory through Christ. Vallies uncover the caliber of friends who will war for you and hold you up when you can’t hold your own weight. Who will become the friend who checks in on you, when your voice has been silent. And, in this valley, we’ve witnessed strength in relationships we never knew were so strong.

And even here, where it’s hard to put feelings into words, and while we hold onto the vantage point of victory, the days are difficult. They are weighted and glazed with a distorted perception of things unseen, yet in the midst of it, are pushing us in pursuit of eternal hope.

Our little Bea was due on my dad’s birthday. Which, if you don’t know my dad and my story of God’s redemption plan before he passed away, having sweet Bea due on the day my dad was born was a reminder straight from the heart of heaven of how good our God is. But instead of us celebrating her birthday that day, she will celebrate with her grandpa. I’ll imagine the stars will shine brighter as all of Heaven celebrates them both that day, touring the stars, and noting the favorite ones to show us someday when we meet them face to face. We’ll never know a day with you in our arms, but we’ll also never know another day without you in our hearts.

**walking through this I’m disappointed with how little it’s talked about. I’d love for this to be a safe space for you to write your story of loss in the comments. I pray that as you pour your heart into words, that the Lord holds you close to his heart, lifts the weight, exposes the lies you’ve believed, and brings true peace of mind and heart, and to others through the words you are brave enough to write.**