Goodbye Little One.

(Warning: This is about my miscarriage. Please don’t read if it will hurt you. I feel as women we face the same issues yet often live in silence about them. Maybe you can relate? I posted this almost two years ago but today there is a nagging, a pull to re-send it to a sister who needs it).

I wake hoping this morning greets me with less grief, it doesn’t.

It was a cold Fall afternoon in late October when the Pastor I call Husband came home early. He brushed me with a kiss and wished me all the best at my ultrasound. We both clung to the words that acted as hope in that moment. I had previously felt the baby start to drain from my body, slowly, yet I didn’t want to believe it. That Thursday I found myself in a quiet intimate moment with the Creator as I bent my knees on the hard wooden floor in desperation as I sought Him. Tears fell as I petitioned over and over for the life that lay within.

I sat in a cubicle waiting to be asked to enter the dark room. It matched my emotions. I could feel my heart beating loudly and quickly. I looked at my hands that shook and I started to fight back the tears. The Doppler was placed on my stomach. I could hear myself muttering prayers, asking, pleading and begging. There was silence.


The world continued but I stopped. I found myself with a bleeding heart filled with excruciating pain. I had dreams for the little life that I yearned so deeply for. It had become a loved family member that we all rejoiced in. Each morning my oldest with hair of brown and eyes of blue would excitedly place a prenatal vitamin in my mouth as she “wanted to feed the baby.” Joy surrounded us as we talked about the coming of her new sibling. Instead I found myself weeping as I looked into her confused eyes, explaining in a childlike way that her baby had gotten sick and died. That he wasn’t strong like her.

The days are slow and I find myself filled with a gamut of emotion. I self talk perspective, to be grateful that I have children, that the pregnancy was early. Yet I dissolve as my words become messed up and mixed with liquid salt. Sobbing for what could have been…

I open the Word where I get my sustenance and soul food. He gives me passages of comfort. Part of me angry and part of me grateful. I speak quietly “Be near” tears cascade burning my cheeks. “Draw near so I can draw near to you. Wrap your peace and love around me as I weep.” Then I hear myself, it’s barely audible “Be exalted.”

The essence of true beauty is seen in the moment of weakness. A woman in complete surrender lifting the name of Jesus in hardship. Its through His strength only, that I can do it.

My arms slowly rise, lifting high as I opens my hands abandoning all to praise. I gently sings “Hallelujah.” A chorus that most people sing when all is well. Yet I have to do it in the storm.

I know what is lost will not be brought back, but the peace of God will. My heart is beaten and bruised yet with an intense ache I worship. The deepening of faith hurts, it comes with growing pains. It’s in these moments of no understanding and suffering He is felt in a different way. He cups me in His hands to protect the fragility of my spirit. The time of being hidden in a cold winter brings an undeniable growth that refines and teaches valuable lessons. I can feel myself being stripped to the core, molded and reshaped. I allow my grief to develop me into His likeness.

Does the act of worship in these times mean that the pain is numbed?

No. I wince at the thought of tomorrow when I’m left unconscious in an operating theater for Doctors to scrape away my dreams that is encompassed in a sac. That they see me a ‘straight forward procedure’ not a mother who is hurting and longing for the situation to be different. But its during these times of hardship that I allow grief to cascade and accept that my Maker gives and takes away.


4 thoughts on “Goodbye Little One.

  1. Hannah, gut honest thoughts for all of us who experienced a miscarriage in the past. To name the child, to celebrate it’s short life and now presence with the Lord and to know that we will again meet in heaven gives us hope and faith in our loving Father. It reminds me of the song, Blessed be the name of the Lord… He gives and takes away…Blessed be the name of the Lord. not that we can every understand but there is that connection again between pain & worship.

  2. ((HUGS)) Hannah. I lost my third child at 11 weeks of pregnancy. I lost my baby at home. 2 weeks prior to this I became a Christian, I was so angry at God, after all He is God and He can do anything! My baby they figured died 2 weeks before according to the length. I still remember my baby lying on my bathroom counter, arms, legs, hands, feet. I wept, I grieved. I questioned why. I think about this child when my husbands birthday comes around, because that is when I would have delivered this baby by c section.
    However, God in His infinite wisdom and love blessed us with another child that wouldn’t be here because I got pregnant with her 2 months later. I cannot imagine our lives without her. God has given her a musical gift and she has had a heart for reaching out. When she was in early grade school she collected canned goods and brought them to the salvation army. We had no idea until a neighbor had asked us if we were hungry and we found out that she had a heart after helping others. God also in His infinite wisdom has a child awaiting us when we go home. So many empty arms wanting to hold the child that was lost, we don’t have all the reasons here, but we do know that our loving Father has a plan and we can trust the One who loves us most.

    • Oh WOW!!! I loved reading your comment! I know you are right in saying that God can use anything to make it good. Our children are miracles and I love your mamas heart! Thankyou for your insight and encouragement!
      Much love to you mate,

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