Motherhood + Miscarriage: Finding My Place at the Table

All my longings lie open before you, O Lord; my sighing is not hidden from you. – Psalm 38:9

This year has been an entirely different experience than all the years that came before. With the current state of the world, that seems like an understatement. Daily life is uncertain and unstable for many of us. But I’m not just talking about the world at large. This year, my personal world is utterly different.

Now, my world exists in two halves – the time before and the time after.

Although I kept a private journal about our miscarriage last fall, I’ve published next to nothing publicly. In part, because I prefer to grieve in private. But also, because it all still feels very raw, like a freshly formed scab waiting to rip open under the slightest tension.

Healing continues to happen every day, and I believe part of the healing process is bringing to light the thoughts and feelings so many of us keep inside.

A Time of Grief

In the fall of last year, I crossed I line I never expected to pass over. As a sort of general future talk, Husband and I had discussed starting a family in late 2019 or early 2020. Of course, I knew we couldn’t really plan it, but that timeline seemed the most feasible. We’d still have enough time at our current station to have continuous care for the pregnancy and birth. Not to mention, it would give me time to check out some travel opportunities.

Then, in September, I found out I was unexpectedly pregnant.

We confirmed our pregnancy with the clinic, but less than a week later, we knew something was wrong. Over the next eight weeks, more time than I’d actually been pregnant, my body would go through the process of miscarrying.

I hadn’t expected to cross the line into motherhood, or have it taken away from me, so abruptly. Even now, months removed from the events, I still haven’t attached that word to my identity. Mother. The loss of our child and the specifics of our situation, leave me unsure of where I fit in.

This time of the year – spring and the celebrations of mothers and fathers – feels weird in “the time after.” Inside, I feel pulled in two directions. There’s an urge to lay claim to my seat at the table of motherhood. But there’s also the uncertainty around whether I’m supposed to fill that empty chair. With our story, would I even be welcome?

Finding a Seat at the Table of Motherhood

But I’m learning that the definition of motherhood isn’t only holding or carrying a child. Motherhood is aching, crying, giving up, and letting go. It’s joy and nurturing and wanting more for someone than you want for yourself.

It’s tears and laughter, learning and growing, stretching yourself in ways you never imagined. Motherhood is doubting and fear, standing in the wings and cheering for another.  It’s putting your best self forward even when you don’t want to. It’s picking up the pieces when you thought you couldn’t. Motherhood is this and so much more.

And, more importantly, motherhood is for anyone who wants to claim it.

No matter where you sit at the table, or what story brought you here, you’re not alone. I see you. I celebrate with you, and I mourn with you. Regardless of where you sit, this is not the end of your story. God is redeeming all things, in his good time, and for his (and our) good.  Even on the days it doesn’t feel like it.

Comfort in Suffering

Our miscarriage journey continues to drive home something I’ve always known – very few things in this world are as they should be. Everything is a shadow of its best self. The world, our relationships, and ourselves are broken.

But it is because of this redemption, the healing of broken things, that I can sit at the table. Although, I’ll admit, without a child in my arms, the claim to that seat continues to feel odd. Many days I feel I don’t belong or deserve a place at the table.

Maybe you, too, feel like you don’t belong here, or like this day isn’t yours to claim. Perhaps you’re spending your day wondering where you went wrong and why you’re not enough.  Hear me loud and clear, dear reader:  none of this is your fault. You are enough.

It’s important to me other women like me know there’s a seat for you at the table of motherhood, should you wish to claim it. But if you’re not ready, know we’ll be waiting for you here when you are. We love you just the same; there is always room for you here.

In my grief and anxiety during and following our miscarriage, words of prayer were often hard to come by. My heart longed to be with the Lord, but words were hard to come by.

In difficult times, I’ve found it helpful to borrow the prayers of others. I’ve put some of my regularly recalled prayers on some notecards that I’d like to share with you. Simply click on the banner above or the link below and I’ll send you a downloadable PDF of some of my favorite borrowed prayers.

Prayer Cards for Anxious Times