Miscarriage: The Silent Lonely Grief Rollercoaster

by Michelle Steen

I am in a club. It is one that I never asked to join and would never wish on anyone. I don’t know how many members there are. Some I know, but others remain silent, carrying their pain alone. It is a hidden, exclusive club. It is the club of women who have experienced a miscarriage.

In my case, I had five miscarriages, compounded by unexplained infertility and a potential cancer scare that ended the possibility of ever becoming pregnant. Others in this club have had fewer or more losses, and some, but not all, battle infertility. While each story is unique, many of the emotions are painfully similar.

For anyone who has had a miscarriage and/or gone through fertility treatment, it is an emotional rollercoaster. In my experience, I was all over the place. I had hope at the beginning of the cycle, unsure of what it might bring. There was excitement when I saw that the medication was working and that my body was creating the right conditions for my part of the process.

As I entered the second half of the cycle, I became anxious. I questioned – am I pregnant? Am I not pregnant? An impending period and pregnancy both felt the same to me and shared similar symptoms. Why? It is so confusing. Then came the decisive moment, the pregnancy test, or so I thought. I took it and held my breath, waiting for the outcome. Then it came, I was pregnant!

Relief, excitement, joy, hope, then anxiety. Is it real? I was over the moon when I first saw a positive test. Nothing could go wrong, but then it did. We would go to the doctors and have tests to monitor the baby to be sure we were on the right path. Then, for every cycle came the disappointment. The sadness. The anger. The grief. The self-loathing.

The miscarriage that hit me the hardest was the one that I carried the furthest. We saw the heartbeat and were so excited. I had so much hope and joy. I could not believe I would finally be able to carry a child. My body worked as it was supposed to. Then, a few weeks later, we miscarried. All the pregnancy tests after were filled with hope but also trepidation. I could not allow myself the hope of being pregnant when I was fearing failure every time.

Throughout this time, it seemed like everyone else was getting pregnant just from a fun date night. They could get pregnant, keep the pregnancy, and have a baby without a second thought. That was tough. Somehow, when I was struggling, I was still supposed to be elated for those having children as a “whoops” and supposed to laugh it off with them like it was funny that they just accidentally got pregnant.

What I did not realize through it all was that God was working in my life to build a stronger relationship with Him. After years of resentment and anger towards God, I finally went to a grief counseling group to help process the emotions I had been feeling. In counseling, I learned that throughout the years of infertility treatments, needles, medications, sonograms, doctor visits, and miscarriages, I held onto anger as a close companion. I was angry at myself, my husband, and especially at God.

I couldn't understand why my body wasn't working correctly. I was raised to be a highly independent woman, so certainly I should be able to fix the problem and carry a baby. When I couldn’t, my anger shifted to the doctors who tried their best or the insurance companies who refused to cover my treatment. I would blow up at my husband for no apparent reason. My reason for the anger could have been hormones or medication, but more likely, it was where I was spiritually.

My “favorite” person to be angry at was God. I wrestled with him in silence and wept in secret. I had many lengthy discussions with God about my situation. Why did He make me like this? Why would he give me the desire to be a mom but then not allow me to sustain a pregnancy?  What was the point of being a woman when I cannot produce an offspring, which is what I was supposed to do?

For answers, I would read about women like Sarah in Genesis 17:16, who were promised blessings and children.  I would wonder why those promises were not for me. God’s promises were all over the bible, but where were mine? Where did He promise that I would be a mom?

Over time, I realized I misunderstood how God works. Selfishly, I wanted him to do what I wanted, but this was not what He had planned for my life. He never promised that I would be a mom. He never promised that I would have a kid. In the midst of my pain, He promised something even greater: that we would be with me through every hardship. This truth was hard to accept, but it has given me peace.

For me, I have learned that the desire to be a mom was to adopt our son. He is a source of great joy in my life.  My son was born in the same month that one of the babies that we lost was to be born, so even though I did not physically carry my child, God had another special woman carry my son. It may not be how I expected it, but that is how God fulfilled my desire to be a mom here on Earth.

The feelings of anger and resentment have dulled, and I still wonder about the why questions from time to time. I know there is a greater purpose. Though parts of that purpose will only be fully understood when I meet God face to face.

One important truth to remember through this: even though you are a part of this terrible club, you are not alone! Many women are struggling right alongside you. The most comforting part is that God is with you – no matter how mad you are with Him. He is weeping with you as Isaiah 41:10 says, “fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed, for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous right hand”. I encourage you to reach out to the women in your life and seek God for guidance and comfort. Do not grieve alone. You may come realize the club that you are now a part of has many members to support you.