Healing From A Miscarriage With St. Zélie Martin
Anonymous
Last December, the fourth week of Advent suddenly turned from a time of anticipation and joy to a time of sorrow and dread. Five days before Christmas, my husband and I went to the doctor’s office to see, for the first time, our ten-week-old unborn baby. As we waited in anticipation, the ultrasound tech searched for the unborn child, and listened for a heartbeat.
Instead of experiencing the excitement of hearing the heartbeat for the first time, we sat in silence and fear as she searched for a sound. Devastatingly, she found nothing. We were told by our doctor that our baby was no longer alive, and eventually we should expect to miscarry. This shocking news flipped the season of Advent instantly one-hundred and eighty degrees for me. No longer was I hopeful, but despairing. No longer was I joyful, but deeply sorrowful.
I can’t pretend to put the experience of losing a baby into words. In the weeks following our miscarriage, I sadly learned that many women, my own mother and some friends included, share a similar pain. The Mayo Clinic estimates that up to 20% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage, and so unfortunately my experience is not uncommon among mothers. But despite the pain of this loss, the Lord has shown me that from sorrow and dread can grow anticipation of eternal glory.
Bringing Forth New Life
During the process of passing the miscarriage, I experienced terrible pain and bleeding. Throughout the days I dealt with these symptoms I kept crying out to God with one simple question:
Why?
Why did I have to experience labor-like pain and bleeding, all seemingly for nothing? I didn’t mind the thought of sacrificing for new life, but sacrificing for death? That seemed too much for me to handle.
It wasn’t until late one night as I was laying in bed, grappling with the why of my pain and suffering that it hit me. I wasn’t suffering for death. All new life takes sacrifice. The grain of wheat dies on the ground so that a new shoot can spring forth. Mothers experience labor pains so that their child can experience life on earth. I, and all mothers who experience child loss, suffer so that their child can experience life in heaven. My suffering wasn’t wasted - it was in fact eternally useful. I was given the honor of suffering so that my child could go straight to heaven, and there is no greater honor.
“We Shall Find Our Little Ones Again Up Above”
Though I realized in my head that it was good that my baby was going straight to heaven, my heart still ached that I wouldn’t get to hold them, nurture them, and love them on this earth. One of the things that brought me solace is a quote from Zelie Martin, the mother of St. Therese of Lisieux.
Zelie tragically lost four of her nine children in infancy. The idea of dealing with the loss of four children is staggering - losing my one, unborn baby was painful enough. Yet Zelie had such a beautiful perspective. She famously said, “We shall find out little ones again up above.” The reminder that the miscarriage wasn’t the end of my relationship with my unborn baby and that someday we would be united with our Lord in heaven gave me incredible peace in the midst of the storm of grief that I faced.
Seeing the Face of God
Zelie’s words have helped me joyfully anticipate heaven and encountering my unborn child. The experience of sorrow and dread that my miscarriage was, though it is still painful, has slowly transformed into bittersweet anticipation. My prayer through all of this is that I can let this desire to meet my child increase my desire to see the Face of God. I have asked the Lord to increase in me joyful anticipation to see His Face, and not just the face of my son or daughter. And I pray that someday I will meet my child and together we will gaze at the face of the Father.
