When bad things happen, the last thing someone wants to hear from someone who has never experienced what they are going through is, "I know how you feel." I can honestly say there is no way you can know how someone feels unless you yourself have walked through that experience. I know this and can say this because before I miscarried, I had no clue how it felt to miscarry. I had no clue the sadness, disappointment, grief, frustration, anger, and hurt that went with it. I had no clue that I would think, "Will I ever have children?" "Is there something wrong with me?" "Did I do something wrong?" "Am I not meant to be a mother?" I had no clue that trying again would be scary and overwhelming. I had no clue that when I got pregnant again I would be nervous every second until I saw those beating hearts at 8 weeks and the risk went down (and then until 12 weeks since there were two and the risks were higher). I had no clue.
Before I delivered Alexis Faith stillborn, I had no clue how it felt to have a stillborn child. I had no clue that I wasn't safe after the 12 week mark (the 18 week mark, the 24 week mark, the 32 week mark). I had no clue that I would feel her one day and she would be gone the next. I had no clue that I would see a fuzzy spot on the screen where her heartbeat was supposed to be. I had no clue the intense pain and heartbreak that I would feel with just a few little words, "Baby B doesn't have a heartbeat." I had no clue how hard I could cry in just a few minutes. I had no clue how painful it was to call family and say, "Alexis passed away." I had no clue the numbness I would feel as I walked out of the doctor's office, drove the 20 minute drive home, and then back to the hospital, and waited to deliver. I had no clue how horrible not hearing my baby girl cry in the delivery room would be. I had no clue how holding a baby with no life would feel so surreal yet so real. I had no clue how painful it would be to go home with only one baby. I had no clue how awful it would be to walk in the nursery and see her things everywhere. I had no clue what I would be like to bury a teeny tiny baby (I had no clue that they made caskets that small). I had no clue how hard it would be to try to hold it together every time I hugged someone and heard "We are so sorry for your loss." I had no clue that it would rip my heart out packing up all of her cute pink and purple baby clothes and bedding and gear. I had no clue how awful it would be to have to talk to my 4 year old son about his sister's death. I had no clue that for months my heart, my arms, my body, and my soul would ache for Alexis so bad that just breathing would feel impossible. I had no clue.
Now I can say, "I know how you feel," when a friend has a miscarriage or stillbirth. Although our situations can be different, losing a baby (or babies) puts us in a unique club that no one wants to be a part of. Every time I hear, "I had a miscarriage," "I lost my baby," or "Our baby might not make it," my heart breaks all over again. I hate hearing those words from anyone. I wouldn't wish baby loss on my worst enemy (not that I really have any enemies that I know of). Even though no one wants to lose a baby, I am thankful that there is compassion and understanding and support from people who've been through it. It's my prayer that I am able to help those who miscarry or birth a still baby. I pray all the time that God uses my suffering for His glory. I often think of that song, "Lord I Offer You My Life," by Hillsong. I want to give Him all that I've been through to use it to His glory.