Strange Grief, Sure Comfort
I don’t think I have ever really, truly felt grief before now. I have known people who have passed away and, while I was sad, I think I was removed enough that I simply watched others in their grief.
Now that has changed. I have felt grief. I feel grief now. I think I will always carry a little bit with me like a small bag of stones in the bottom of my bag. Always there to weigh me down, but not too in the way enough to remove.
Last month I had a miscarriage. I lost my baby at 7 weeks.
For me, it is a strange grief. Grieving a whole person, a whole soul who I do not know. Grieving a little life that will now never be. How can I be this rocked by the loss of someone I have never met? Someone I never got to name or kiss or hold.
A strange grief. Feeling a frantic sort of worry that I was too happy too fast when I laughed at my son and my husband during bath time. As if in order to grieve I must actively feel sad the whole time. I must not allow joy or peace or even a hint of a smile invade the shrine I have made in my heart for my lost baby lest their memory be lost forever because I “moved on”.
I have since read a few books on miscarriage and grief (since that is what I do when I am confused about things — I read) and I now know that is not true. There is no right way to grieve. People feel grief in their own ways and in their own time. A strange grief is just grief — but to me, strange.
My grief has been ugly, painful, sanctifying and vulnerable. But mostly, it has been a quiet grief.
Not silent — just quiet.
I kept my pregnancy private save for telling a few and was waiting until 12 weeks; more out of a sense of social custom than any real fear of miscarriage. That sort of thing happens to other people, not me. Now it is me, what do I do?
It’s a bit of a bummer to tell someone that you were pregnant but now you are not when they never knew in the first place. How do you even go about that? “Oh by the way…” No. I’d rather not. Keep quiet.
A strange and quiet grief. Only a few know about what has happened and even then not many know how to really support you, walk with you and comfort you. I certainly didn’t when I knew of people who had experienced miscarriage. And I am so sorry for how I let you down.
Giving comfort to a woman who has had a miscarriage is fraught with discomfort for yourself. What do you say? What do you do? In a way, there is nothing to do. Nothing can bring back that woman’s baby. There is no sure comfort — just unsure comfort. This is all we can manage and that is okay. Unsure comfort is for the human to fumble their way through. It is still worth giving no matter how inadequate it feels at the time because sure comfort is given by someone else.
Sure comfort is given by God.
I read this fantastic book, Grace like Scarlett, Grieving with Hope after Miscarriage and Loss by Adriel Booker. The author uses a surfing analogy to describe finding comfort in Jesus in the midst of grief: The waves are my grief and turmoil and I am the surfer. So that I am not dumped by the wave and dragged to unknown depths I must duck dive under the wave and allow it to roll past. The peace of the underside of the wave is God’s presence and comfort. Under the surface I am drawn under and into the sure arms of my loving God.
“All it takes is our slightest desire, our faintest yes and He draws us under. I suppose we’ve got to want to dive, but He meets us in the surrender — our weakness releases his strength” — Adriel Booker, Grace like Scarlett.
My sure comfort in my strange grief has not come from myself or from others. It has come from the unchanging, all powerful, loving, merciful and just God. The same God who is looking after my baby for when I can finally meet them.
This is first time I have had to really live out my theology on the topic of suffering.
I believe God is good. Perfectly good. But something really bad has just happened to me. How am I comforted by God drawing me closer to Him? Practically how am I actually comforted in this strange grief?
I rest on the promises God has made in His word.
“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Blessed are those who mourn, for they should be comforted.” — Matthew 5:2–3
I believe what He says about His own character and power.
But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly about my weaknesses, so that Christ’s power may rest on me. That is why, for Christ’s sake, I delight in weaknesses, in insults, in hardships, in persecutions, in difficulties. For when I am weak, then I am strong. — 2 Corinthians 12:9–10
I trust that He has sovereignty over all that happens in our world.
Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight, and sin which clings so closely, and let us run with endurance the race that is set before us, looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy that was set before him endured the cross, despising the shame, and is seated at the right hand of the throne of God. — Hebrews 12:1–2
I dive under the waves of my strange grief into the sure comfort of my God and Saviour Jesus Christ. I never expected to experience miscarriage at 23 after already having a healthy baby 10 months grown now. But God has set this race before me and is running it with me to the end. I am weary but I will keep running.
Feeling peace, comfort and even joy does not erase the life or the memory of the little baby that was once here. Likewise feeling grief, pain and sadness does not erase or inhibit the love and comfort God has for me and my family.
My baby, I love you. I pray for you. Wait for me in heaven.
I wrote this article because I found it therapeutic and I share it now because miscarriage and baby loss is not talked about amongst women nearly enough for how often it happens. I am talking about it. If you want, you can talk to me about it or talk to your friend, your mum or your sister. I have listed a few helpful resources below if you would like to know more.
Adriel Booker | Grace Like Scarlett: Grieving With Hope After Miscarriage and Loss
Jackie Gibson | You Are Still a Mother: Hope for Women Grieving a Stillbirth or Miscarriage
Grief Mini-Series - Risen Motherhood
The Fruit of Grief in Miscarriage
How Do We Care for Families Who Have Gone Through Miscarriage?
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