Three years ago we lost a baby in my first trimester of pregnancy.

We’d been living in Ukraine for two months. Our daughter, Nora, was about eighteen months old.

These past weeks I’ve been remembering, and I came across my journal entries from that time.

The entries reminded me that a brave Mama who suffered a heart-wrenching stillbirth once shared her story in a blog. Her post, so honest and broken, revealed to me that I’d never fully grieved our lost child. It freed me to lay out the pain, disappointment and anger I felt, but had never truly acknowledged or worked through.

That process brought sorrow, but in the end, I experienced a healing that comes from grieving well. About two years passed between our miscarriage and that time of healing.

After remembering all of this, I decided to share a few of my journal entries* here. I pray someone will read this and experience healing, as I did when another Mama opened her heart to me as a reader.

February 8, 2015

God’s grace is sufficient for me. I want to begin this entry with thanksgiving, out of faith.

“God, thank You for Nora, for the sweet gift of life that You gave us in her. Thank You for the joy she brings, for her boundless energy and excitement. Thank You that in this time we can be with her, cuddle her, love on her, enjoy her smiles and presence. Thank you that You chose to give us Nora with my first pregnancy. 

I say in faith that I’m thankful for Your divine knowledge. Evidently it was best for this new life not to come into the world, but to be taken straight into Your presence. Thank You for whatever protection You gave in that choice. 

Thank You for a husband who loves me so incredibly and is so supportive and involved. Thank You for my parents and brother here in L’viv, who are supporting and helping us. Thank You for all my siblings and our family, who send their love and offer up prayers.

Thank You for friends who pray for us and send words of encouragement. Thank You for providing for all our needs and that we believe we can still have healthy pregnancies in the future. 

Thank You for the gift of life and that we have the promise of someday seeing our sweet Baby in heaven. Thank You that he or she is with You, where there is no pain, no tears, and no sorrow.”

I was 10 ½ weeks pregnant when I started to spot—never had any pain, at least not that I could distinguish from the knots of tension and emotion in my stomach. We had four ultrasounds, and all found that the gestational sack was very underdeveloped. Not one of the ultrasounds showed our baby.

The doctors here believe I miscarried at about five or six weeks. A nurse practitioner in the States believes I had a blighted ovum, which means our baby would have never developed beyond fertilization.

We went to the hospital in L’viv on February 6. The final ultrasound confirmed what the others had shown.

We lost the baby.

The doctors told us they would perform a D&C. The hospital was nice compared to some I’ve seen in Ukraine. But the approach to my care was old school, Soviet style. It started when the staff refused to let Josh onto the gynecological floor with me. We sneaked him in later that day.

When it was time for the D&C, a nurse took me into the procedure room, where the doctor and other nurses were waiting. They instructed me to undress from the waist down and climb into the procedure chair, which I did, in front of everyone.

A doctor gave me local anesthesia, but I could still hear everything…feel the pressure…I stared at the ceiling…

Afterwards, they all left the room without a word, and I laid in the chair, uncovered from the waist down. When the anesthesia began to wear off, I moved onto a bed and put my clothes back on.

Josh and I cried together when they brought me back to the waiting room. What a wonderful and loving husband he is!

My mom was with us all day and was a tremendous help. My dad and brother watched Nora back at their house. We were so blessed and thankful the hospital released me that day, so I could go home to Nora.

Now that we’re home, I find the most difficult thing is the constant reminders that I am no longer pregnant. By eleven weeks, your brain is so programmed to think of your baby…“I shouldn’t eat all of this now, because I’ll need a little food in a couple hours so I don’t get nauseous…I can’t take that medicine or have that food because I’m pregnant…Josh, please don’t eat that – it’s so garlicky and the smell will make me nauseous…”

It will take time.

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One of the greatest encouragements I’ve received was an email from Wendy, a friend in the States:

Hi Josh and Nicole,

I’m so sorry to hear of your loss. I pray you know a special, sweet comfort and peace from the Lord as you grieve your precious little one.

It was especially sad for me after my miscarriage to be around other pregnant friends. It gave me a small taste of what the barren women in the Bible suffered. Although it would have been so much harder had it been my first.

I had a lot of questions after my miscarriage and there were a few things I discovered that really comforted me. I don’t know if it will you or not, but it helped me to learn that miscarriages are incredibly common, something like one in four pregnancies. Another is that in many cases miscarriages happen because the baby wouldn’t have developed properly. And that most women who miscarry are holding a baby within a year later.

It also comforted me to imagine our baby running and playing in Heaven with other children. I just found in my journal the day I miscarried where I wrote, “It will take some time to sort through having lost a baby. I know he or she is with Jesus, already probably running, dancing, laughing. And he’s been given a new name, the name Jesus chose before the foundation of the world. And Jesus is good and His will is perfect.”

We will continue praying for you guys and we love you.

Wendy

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Her heart is so beautiful, and I pray I can respond to this with as much grace as she did.

Another encouraging word from a friend:

“And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.” – Revelation 21:4

“Thank You, Lord, that Your will is always good, and that You work all things together for good. Thank you that You loved our Baby before we even knew he or she existed, and Baby is with You now. Give us strength and comfort in this time, and may we draw closer to You and to each other. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

February 9, 2015

Morning Entry.

From my devotional book, the Daily Light:

“Now he is comforted.” – Luke 16:25

 

“…for the Lord will be your everlasting light, and the days of your mourning shall be ended.” – Isaiah 60:20

 

“He will swallow up death forever, And the Lord God will wipe away tears from all faces…” – Isaiah 25:8

 

“And God will wipe away every tear from their eyes; there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no more pain, for the former things have passed away.” – Revelation 21:4

Today I’m struggling with lack of motivation and feelings of listlessness. Asking God to help me mourn in a healthy way, without giving in to self-indulgence and depression.

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Evening Entry.

How can you miss someone you’ve never met?

A Prayer for You

My friend, if you have suffered a loss, I pray for your healing. It may be the loss of a baby, but it might be another loss.

I hope you find the freedom to recognize and acknowledge your grief. Like me, you might have times of depression, sorrow, anger, and more. But I hope you also experience healing and hope, as I have received over time.

Healing comes in waves
and maybe today
the wave hits the rocks
and that’s okay,
that’s okay, darling
you are still healing
you are still healing.

– Ijeoma Umebinyuo

 

*I made minor changes to these journal entries to make them more understandable.