Where Hope & Healing is Found After Pregnancy and Infant Loss

Hope

Apr 11

by Kristine Conway

With six textbook pregnancies under my belt, I felt no concerns about the imminent arrival of our seventh child, despite his reluctance to arrive in a timely fashion. I was anxious only in the sense of being excited—-more than ready to hold this new little one in my arms and introduce him to the rest of our family. When labor finally began that evening in early December, I welcomed and embraced it, knowing fully that the agony of the next hours would result in baby snuggles and joy. Sadly, sweet grieving mothers, you know all too well how this story ends. Our details may be different, but the ending is the same—we were left with achingly empty arms.

And yet…

Even as the floodgates of such immense sorrow were being opened…even while the raging waters of grief swirled and threatened to overwhelm my heaving heart…there was God. And the hope that He so gently brought into each strangled moment was the lifeline I desperately needed. “You don’t understand what I’m doing right now,” He softly whispered, “but someday you will.” And somehow in that torrent of howling wind and pounding rain, His quiet voice could be heard. Like a frightened child looks for her father’s protective arms or the security of her mother’s lap, so too I trustingly turned toward God and grasped for the comfort I needed.

I found that the words written in the book of Psalms suited me just as well now as when they were penned, reminding me that I wasn’t alone. So many others had suffered before, and their words reached beyond time with unmatched comfort: “Save me, O God! For the waters have come up to my neck. I sink in deep mire where there is no standing. I have come into deep waters, where the floods overflow me. I am weary with my crying; my throat is dry; my eyes fail while I wait for my God.” (Psalm 69:1-3, NKJV) And what more is there to do in the midst of such pain and grief but to wait…? And so we do. We wait for the pain to subside. We wait for the grieving to end. We wait for the darkness to lift. We wait for the day when we’ll feel something other than the heaviness of continual agony.

In the midst of this seemingly ceaseless waiting is where the healing begins. Ever so gradually the hemorrhaging slows to an uncertain trickle and finally forms a scab. The deep bruising fades. The tears fall less frequently. And eventually the scab falls away to reveal that a scar has formed. Sometimes the scar looks angry, and there remains a dull ache attached to it. A numbness lingers that feels oddly tingly when brushed against. But these things aren’t as unwelcome any more because they’ve become a part of our new normal; they’re a bittersweet reminder of our loss. In the waiting, we discover that the grief which was so unwelcome in our early months of sorrow has become more of an accepted companion. And it’s in the waiting that we find that God has brought hope.

15 years have passed since our son was stillborn, his blue eyes wide but unseeing. I wish that I could tell you exactly when the grieving process ended, but the reality is that it hasn’t. And that’s the beauty that comes from ashes because it means that our little ones are still missed…still longed for. The fact that our babies lived, if only for such a short time, has made a difference. And like a pebble dropped into quiet water, the ripples continue in concentric circles reaching ever outward until this very day. The difference that my son’s life ripples have made have now also touched you. And with the ripples of his life come this reassurance and hope to you: life can’t ever again be as it was before, but it’s going to be okay. You’re going to be okay.

“He comforts us in all our afflictions so that we can comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort we ourselves have been comforted with by God.” (2 Corinthians 1:4)

Meet the Author: Kristine Conway

My name is Kristine Conway, and I am a current homeschooling mother of 1 and former homeschooling mother of 7. All but my youngest have now graduated, some have married, and I am no longer just the mother of 8 but also the grandmother of 8! In addition to teaching, I love writing (I’ve been keeping a journal since 1986!), working in my vegetable garden and flower beds, and I also have an affinity for sewing, crocheting, and embroidery. I love taking pictures, am enamored with my honey bees and chickens, and enjoy baking.