Joy and Pain (The Story of Our Miscarriage)

Joy and pain.

Two words couldn’t be more opposite yet they coexist beautifully. 

When I was working with Mei/Co. Dance, this topic was something we navigated often in our interviews and our works. It’s a balance to find joy in the pain, almost like getting closer to a deer in the woods. One step off or one moment pushed too far and the deer bolts.

My husband and I went into 2024 not knowing we'd be navigating this balance are intricately as we needed to. We had big goals and dreams for this year, plans for lots of joy and fulfilling moments, not grief and loss. 

I think it is worth clarifying that joy does not equal humor. Humor isn’t what I’m leaning toward or talking about in this article. Although, what a gift when you can find humor in painful moments, a genuine humor that produces healthy belly laughs. Most of the time the joy comes from a deeper spring, a spring you and I have no creative rights over. 

On that note, our story. 

That feeling of being officially late for my period was one I had never felt before. Up until that week, there were no “oops”, everything was going according to my plan, and given all of my period woes throughout the years, I operated faithfully each month like clockwork. We also figured it would be difficult to get pregnant when the time came because of the drama caused by endometriosis and just all-around bad periods. So, on a cold January morning at 7 am and officially late for my period, I told my husband I was going to take a test.

It came out positive.

My immediate reactions were “Holy $#!+”, tears, and then a sigh of uninhabited joy as I crawled into Brandon’s arms. We had no clue what was going to happen, but in that moment our vision shifted and we now were thinking as a family of three. 

Life was rolling. 

There was uncertainty, and at first, we didn’t allow ourselves to dream much because of how early we were in this journey, roughly 6 weeks.

About a week later I lost a lot of blood, making us believe I had miscarried. My heart broke, I texted Brandon while on the floor and just cried waiting for him to get home from work. Later I texted the midwife I was working with and shared everything that was happening. Based on what I shared with the women, describing what was going on, a miscarriage seemed the most likely thing. 

Three days later I head to my ultrasound appointment to confirm the loss. I was working with an amazing ultrasound technician (a wonderful European grandmother who’s delivered hundreds of babies overseas). She had me lay on the bed that she had set up in her private practice, calming music, essential oils diffusing, and peaceful lighting surrounded me as she pressed the doppler on my uterus, searching and confirming. 

She looked at me and said, “There’s a heartbeat darling”. 

I was suddenly hit with the wildest emotion of relief and confusion.

“You’ve still got purpose,” my European grandmother said as I thanked her and slowly walked out, weakly grasping reality. 

Now, this was a major heart flip for my husband and I. We were grieving the loss and then told there’s life!

We found ourselves having to fight this weird feeling that we had a cruel joke played on us. 

At the appointment I was told that the baby wasn’t entirely stable and that I needed to take things easy, rest when I could, and allow things to settle again. 

So I did. I rested throughout the day, did gentle movements, didn't lift anything heavy, etc. I was determined to protect and keep my baby safe. 

Fast forward another week and then it happened.

Even though I was doing all of that, I had been battling some pretty painful cramps and was genuinely uncomfortable since the appointment, while still losing some blood. 

After a day of running some gentle errands, including going to my health store to get more ginger chews to get through the night, and buying the most perfect dinosaur stepping stool ever for baby, then proceeding to have a cozy (yet slightly painful) evening, it happened. 

The most pain I’d ever felt in my life. 

I remember crying out for Brandon as I was in the bathroom at 4 am. 

At that moment I felt it and knew what happened. 

Miscarriage.

While shaking with tears, I was able to catch the remains and hand them to Brandon, who then communicated with our midwife everything that was happening. We were then able to confirm the loss. 

God bless my gracious midwife who was up at 4am and ready to answer our questions amid high emotions and pain. 

Brandon proceeded to text his work and mine that we would not be in the next day and helped me crawl back into bed. Making sure I was clean and cared for while navigating his own emotions and confusion.

The tears we shed while holding each other are tears we never thought we would shed, even considering the scare we had earlier on. 

These were different. These were guttural. 

He held me so close and whispered words of encouragement and love as my body was struggling to calm down. Praying over us and my body. Asking the Lord to be there and bring peace. 

Slowly we both fell asleep, with tears slipping out and hearts aching. 

These emotions are hard to write about. Not because I can’t talk about it or I’m on the edge of a grief chasm. They’re hard to talk about because it’s hard to articulate this feeling of loss. For those of you who’ve miscarried a child, you know. There’s a deep sense of disconnect, numbness, and confusion. An immediate wave of “this was all my fault” hits you and you have to battle these guilty thoughts. 

In the end, sometimes these things happen and I have to trust that the Lord will make good of it.

So here I am in the month of our due date, finishing up this post that has taken me six months to write. 

There is no answer to the why. 

There seems to be no reason behind it all. 

But there has been time. 

Time to let the grief sit and have full value. 

Time to slowly trust and believe that the Lord will redeem what the locusts have stolen. Therefore, I will cling with all my might to the words of the Lord and the promises He has made for His children. 

Was that easy? Is it easy? Not at all. 

It was, and is, a daily re-posturing to trust the Lord with my plans and surrender to His will. 

The testimony that I can say is I got to see Brandon embody grace, patience, and sacrificial love in a way that made me fall more in love with him throughout this time of grief. I was also able to learn that there is a perseverance in me that I didn't know I possessed, a pain tolerance I never knew I could handle. We both grew so much with each other and were able to lean into the Lord in a way that we never would have been able to without the loss. Simultaneously, Brandon and I were able to experience Joy and Pain together. Even when our bathroom flooded a week after the miscarriage, we found ourselves laughing and crying in our kitchen over the most mundane things. Finding nuggets of joy, like friendships gathered around to celebrate Brandon turning 30 five days after the loss. These two complex elements can exist together, and they do harmoniously when The Lord is at the center. Even in anger, Jesus can revive glimmers of Joy. Because it comes from Him. His wellspring of life. 

Only Jesus. 

Do I wish we were in the final stages of 9 months? Absolutely.

Do I still weep in my husband's arms? Yes. 

Is my God still a good God? Yes.