Yes, I'm still sad..

{Warning: this post includes graphic grief, and possible TMI about what happens during a miscarriage}

In memory of Macyn 4/24/17 (due date: Nov 26th)

The ultrasound technician turned the monitor away from my view as she searched for my baby's heartbeat. I held my husband's hand tightly and looked at his face pleading for a glimmer of hope. He later told me that the technician was moving so quickly he couldn't make out anything on the screen...but he wouldn't have seen that beautiful flickering heartbeat we had witnesses only a week prior, because at 9 weeks gestation, our baby was gone. One of the things you realize when you find out your pregnant is that this baby is coming out...and it'll either be the best day of your life or it'll be the worst. For my first pregnancy it was the worst day of my life. I don't remember a time I've cried in pain since I was a child, but I cried as I lay on that table and the Dr told me almost too calmly that my body was actively miscarrying and I needed to push. The tears of pain quickly mixed with tears of utter heartbreak, and it was all I could do to remember to breathe. There was so much blood. My miscarriage process lasted for over 2 months, and today I went in for (hopefully) my last HCG level test to see if my body has finally caught up with the fact that I am no longer pregnant. (Hence the above picture of my blood draw bandage.)

I'm exhausted, and although not every day since my miscarriage has been awful today was really hard. So I've been thinking a lot about these past couple of months, and here's a couple of my takeaways from grief: I've gotten a lot of comments from people over the past couple of months telling me:

1. "Do (fill in the blank) next time" 2. "I'm sure you'll have another baby soon" 3. "Did you do (fill in the blank) to cause the miscarriage?"

4. "If you need prayer text me!" (Like I ever wouldn't need it) 5. "Well you just have to trust God" 6. “Aren’t you glad you hadn’t announced it yet?”

A hug, and just saying that you're sorry is truly the only thing that is nice. I won't even say helpful because nothing can really help, but you can support women like me by just laying down your desire to fix and solely offer your solidarity. Even if it seems like she's fine, even if it's been months or years, or even if you don't understand her pain! Don't offer up any of those comments above. Just a hug, "I'm sorry", or "what can I do for you?" I know it may make you feel better to try to fix a part of my sadness, acknowledge that the world isn't over for me, or leave a conversation feeling like at least you said something. BUT what I'm finding that people don't understand is that MY BABY DIED.....not a fetus, not a mass of tissue, not the products of conception. Macyn Bennett, my daughter died, and it is heartbreaking. No other baby will replace her, no amount of speculating about the "what ifs" of the past will bring her back, and taking supplements or doing things to try to hold another pregnancy is not my focus. There is no situation I've been in where I've had to put my trust in God as much as being pregnant. When you're pregnant everything happens in secret, is COMPLETELY out of your control, and guess what? Just because I lost my baby doesn't mean God failed me. Just because he didn't answer my prayers with a yes, doesn't mean he doesn't hear me or love me. I knew this, but for about a week after my miscarriage I didn't pray. I wasn't mad at God, but I simply had nothing to say. I know for a good Christian girl that fact may be shocking, but I still felt God near. He was never far from me, even when I was silent. More recently I keep reflecting on Jesus weeping over the death of his friend Lazarus. (John 11:35) Jesus trusted God, Jesus knew what was going to happen in the future, and still he mourned. I know Jesus has a heart for those who mourn because he went through it too!

My tears are not a sign of distrust in God, but of my belief in the sanctity of life. God's has been with me in every step of this pain, and I can confidently open up my heart to him knowing that my suffering is not in vain. Though I am weak and my weakness shines through in times like these, it shows how strong my Heavenly Father is for keeping me going. So if you made it through this blog post thank you. Thank you for sitting with me in my pain, and my thoughts. Your solidarity is of great value.

By: Elisabeth Bennett

#grief #Miscarriage #Trust #Sufferinginvain