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The Morning Show

To The Parents Who’ve Suffered A Miscarriage

By October 15, 2019 No Comments

I remember the day my sister had a miscarriage. She had been bleeding a little bit here and there, but I had told her not to worry; I had spotted the entire first trimester of my firstborn’s pregnancy.

She called me on the way to the emergency room when the severe cramping started, and then she called me six hours later on her way home. She was in Kansas City and I was in Texas, and the only thing I could do was cry with her. And we sobbed and sobbed and sobbed.

10–15% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage, and if you are part of the 10–15%, I want you to know a few things.

You are grieving the loss of a child. Don’t let anyone talk you out of your grief. You are also grieving the loss of every hope and dream and scenario you’ve played out in your mind since you got that positive pregnancy test. That means you’re mourning your baby’s first steps, first words, sweet baby kisses, first day of kindgergarten, first prom, and so on and so forth.

Your grief is real and it’s not lessened by the fact that you didn’t get to meet your baby face to face.

I will not diminish your grief by slapping a Bible-verse band aid on it, but can I tell you something about God and grief?

Jesus had a dear friend named Lazarus, who died. Jesus got to his house four days after he’d passed away and found his sisters, Mary and Martha, wracked with grief.

And Jesus knew what he was about to do. He knew that he was about to raise Lazarus from the dead. He knew he was about to perform a miracle so stunning that many in the crowd would glorify God and trust Jesus for their salvation.

And Jesus did not say, “Wait til you see this!” He didn’t tell them , “Hey, at least you got forty years with him.” And he didn’t pull out a verse from the Hebrew Scriptures and staple it to their pain.

He wept.

He really wept.

And the book of Hebrews tells us that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

And as you weep, he weeps.

So grieve. Don’t stuff it. But grieve with the hope and comfort that the same Jesus who weeps with you is the same Jesus who promises that one day there will be no more sickness, no more tears, no more pain, and no more death.

I’m praying for you today, my friend. I hope you know that you are seen, heard, and loved.

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