19 January, 2012

What I've Learned from my Experiences with Miscarriage: Part 3

Photo by Mrs. R

I think this might be the last that I post about my miscarriages. It's interesting for me to watch myself; how months ago, when everything happened, it hurt to see other women with pregnant bellies and healthy newborns and then time passed and the hurt was replaced by a fierce desire to get myself as physically, emotionally and spiritually ready for a new baby as possible - and then now. Now, I feel like I've summitted the peak (easy for me to say, right? I'm pregnant. Of course I feel like I've "won the battle"). Being in a healthy pregnancy has taken away a lot of the hurt and trauma. However. I feel like I've calmed down enough, inside of myself, that I've been able to learn.

What I think I was supposed to learn from our two years of miscarriage and recovery and difficulty getting pregnant and miscarriage and recovery is this: I am becoming a mother.

I don't really mean that in a physical way. I mean it in a very sacred, spiritual way.

I have drawn from things that have happened over my lifetime and my mother's lifetime and her mother's lifetime and from the examples of friends and family around me, this simple truth: there is nothing greater that we, as women, can become in this life, than a "mother". A mother isn't defined by how many (if any) children we have or how difficult it was for us to get those children here. Sheri Dew says it way better than I can:

"Motherhood is more than bearing children... It is the essence of who we are as women.

...Both God the Father and Adam called Eve the "mother of all living" --- and they did so before she ever bore a child."

When we got home from the doctor's office, the day that the last miscarriage was confirmed, after ultrasounds and poking around and tests and blood draws and grim faces, I laid in my sister's bed with the door open just a little.

Gage was asleep; the only sound for a while was the humming of the air conditioner, then my mom's voice and then her heartbroken sobs; she was on the phone with her mom, asking her mother the same things that I had asked her on the drive home. "Why? Why did this have to happen?"

She needed comfort and consolation - not from someone with whom she had merely a biological relationship -- but from a real mother. A woman who always makes time to comfort, who never withholds love, who draws out smiles from tears and gives wonderful advice, but more often just listens. I love my Grandmother and my Grandma.

I'm so grateful for the mothers in my life - some of these women have children, some of them do not. Some of them bore children, others found their babies through adoption. Some are grieving. Some of them are elderly and will not have children in this life, some are young and are in the process of treating and/or accepting infertility. Some don't want to bear children. Some desperately do.

I have been so blessed with mothers, all around me, my whole life. But only after this experience did I recognize that. The desire to become a true mother, spurred by our family's small tragedy, is pushing me to be more kind, less judgmental, more patient and loving.

"There is no limit to what a woman with a mother heart can accomplish" - Julie B. Beck


  1. Brooke, this is an amazing post. Thanks for sharing and being open about your experiences. xx

  2. thank you Brookie. Your words reached my soul. The tears on my face are evidence of that.


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