I don’t remember much of what happened in the hospital after the miscarriage. I was drifting on and off, and I suspect I may have been sedated. I was in shock and each time I was awake I would cry. After that experience, I have always wondered why hospitals do not offer counselling services for mothers who have lost their unborn babies.
At some point during my hospital stay, I must have signed consent forms for a D&C procedure. I wonder how the hospital believed I was in the right state of mind to make such decisions. The physical pain was gone, but the emotional pain was unbearable. When Khu visited I cried so much, and felt I had failed. On the day of the D&C he had to travel a hundred and twenty kilometres for his job interview, and I saw the hesitation. We agreed he had to go anyway, physically I was fine and my mum had arrived so I knew I had support. The nurses in the ward were very young and we chatted a lot. They put me at ease about the procedure.
It took me a while to wake up theatre, and up to this day we laugh at how delusional I was when I woke up from the anaesthetic. Apparently I asked the nurses at least a thousand times for my mum and my fiancé. I repeatedly said his name and told them I loved him so much! I do not remember any of this! When he eventually came to visit later that evening, everyone knew about him and they related the story. I think he was secretly pleased that he was at the top of my list of people to remember ha!
The thing about a miscarriage, at least for me, is that you feel like no one understands. You slip into this dark place and no one seems to understand. I became very sensitive and felt angry. I remember my mother in law visiting me in hospital and she said, “Why were you hiding this pregnancy anyway” That comment might as well had been a knife in my heart. I had been only two months pregnant and had not even informed my parents, I was not hiding anything! We were just waiting for the three month mark to inform the family. For anyone to insinuate that I had been hiding something so beautiful, which we wanted so desperately, and which had been painfully snatched from us, was a bitter pill for me. I remember not answering her question, and turning to speak to someone else. (My mother in law and I have, by the grace of God, reconciled and forgiven this and other offences. Our God is a God of forgiveness and restoration)
Going home after the miscarriage was hard. I had been keeping a notebook/journal of my journey and when I got home I held it and cried so much. I felt no one understood. I felt Khu did not understand. I wanted my baby. I desperately wanted my baby. My mother kept telling me that in our culture, I should not cry over a miscarriage as it would bring bad luck. This only made me cry even more.
My mother went back to her home and I felt abandoned. I wanted her there with me. I moved in with Khu, since home was so far for me. I fought him at everything. I really believed he did not understand. I had this pain in my heart and it was almost physical. I noticed my breasts had gone back to their normal size and I cried. I saw a picture of a baby and I cried. I wallowed in the pain and not once did I ever think of how Khu was feeling, and that it was his loss too. I needed him so badly, yet I pushed him away all at the same time. There were days when I just wouldn’t eat. I became extremely moody and emotional. I have no idea how he put up with all of it, but somehow he did.
At that point, although I still believed I was a Christian, nothing in me or about me showed that I was a Christian. My church attendance was erratic even before the miscarriage, I hardly prayed or read the bible, and I basically had very little spiritual support. It became a dark period in my life. I think that is the closest I ever came to depression. It is the reason why I am passionate about sharing my story and reaching out to others. No woman should ever have to go through such trauma without support. If I can reach out and be a listening ear to at least one woman, then I would be happy. I believe that in my darkest hour, although I did not see it then, God rescued me and comforted me. With the same comfort, I will reach out to others as mandated in 2 Corinthians 1 v 3-4
If you are reading this, and you have gone through a similar experience, know this that our God is a God who can comfort in every situation. Seek him, bury yourself in his word. It will heal you from inside out. Read it even when it does not make sense. Speak it even when prayer seems impossible. Speak it back to him. Cry if you need to, but do not cry as though you have no hope (Thessalonians 4:13). Our hope is in the Lord, and his ways are not our ways! Nothing can bring back the babies we have lost, but God can and will heal us, one day at a time. I recently watched the movie “Heaven is for Real”and it reminded me that my baby is in heaven, she is dancing with angels and gets to sit on Jesus’lap. May that be your comfort today, even as it is mine. If you know someone who has gone through the same, please share this with them. Let us rally together and be our brother’s keepers!
I look forward to sharing the rest of the journey with you over the next couple of months. Look out for the next post soon, and in the meantime, feel free to leave a comment, and also check out the other posts on the blog….God Bless, Zwi