Series on Suffering: Miscarriage & Infertility

miscarriage

Continuing our Series on Suffering is Jami, a thirty-something who has quite a story to tell. We’re here today with her original interview from 2012. Be sure to come back tomorrow to learn how Jami’s story has unfolded. There’s joy and more suffering and mystery and redemption.

Christan: Thank you, Jami, for your willingness to talk to Repurposed readers. I’m grateful for your openness about such an incredibly painful part of your life. Tell us about your family.

Jami: Thank you for letting me share. My husband, Jim, is a graphic designer, and our son, Tate, is in first grade at the school where I teach. We live in southeastern Kansas and have a great support system.

Christan: You have one child, and you want more.

Jami: Yes, I’d love more. A large family is something I’ve always dreamed about. When Jim and I first started talking about having children, we always planned on having four.  He comes from a sibling set of three, and so do I. We’re both the middle child. It was inevitable that someone was always left out, so we always planned to have an even number.

But I miscarried in 2006. It was the most painful time of my life, but then it just got worse from there. We’ve not been able to get pregnant again. Our son was two, almost three at the time. He’s now seven.

We wanted the baby – that baby. It was so weird being pregnant and happy one day and then not being pregnant the next. Even months later I’d find myself driving to the library or store and think, “I was just pregnant and now I’m not. How is that?” It’s hard to let go of something you held inside of you and wanted so much.  It’s been even harder not being able to get pregnant again. I’ve had to let go of the dream of more children. It feels like many deaths instead of just one. 

Christan: When did you start telling people you had miscarried your second child?  

Jami: As soon as it happened. It was a really rough time for me, and I needed people to know. I tried to go on like everything was okay, but it was hard. People respond in different ways to miscarriage. Some see it as no big deal… like, “Oh, well”. But others acknowledge it and are kind. Many just don’t know or understand what it’s like. It’s a death. I have a friend who miscarried after I did… she told me she wishes she’d been more compassionate to me and admitted she just didn’t understand until she went through it herself.

Christan: How did your son handle it?

Jami:  Tate was so young I think all he knew was that Mommy was unhappy. We still talk about his brother or sister in Heaven. He wishes he had siblings… mostly someone to play with. That aspect has been the hardest for Jim and I. We’ve always wanted Tate to have brothers and sisters. Seeing him alone so much is a constant reminder of what he’s missing out on. It’s even harder to look to the future and see him alone then, too. We love getting together with our siblings over the holidays, and Tate will never have that. It breaks our hearts.

Christan: How did the Church respond?  

Jami:  At the time I was part of a Mommies Group in our church.  I remember going to one of the meetings a few weeks after my miscarriage. No one really said anything. I knew they were aware, but they just kind of avoided the topic and tried to be cheerful. I needed more.  People just don’t know what to do in that situation. When you have a baby, people come over and bring you gifts and food. When you lose a relative, people bring flowers and cry with you. But with miscarriage, I got the impression that people wanted me to move on and get over it quickly. 

Christan: Did anyone walked through the mess with you?

Jami:  My husband walked with me and still does. I have some really great people in my life who still cry with me over the experience. It’s amazing how God works… it’s amazing how He gives me exactly what I need exactly when I need it. He’s brought people into my life at just the right time — people who’ve let me be sad.

Christan: Did you ever feel like it was your fault?

Jami:  Yes, from the beginning. In many ways. The day before I lost the baby we went for a bike ride. I felt like I had over-exerted myself. I know now that’s silly. I also didn’t go to the doctor right away after learning I was pregnant. It was my second baby, and I was determined to be more laid-back than I was during my first pregnancy. I kick myself over and over for that.

I was nervous, too, about my ability to parent two kids. I was tired from chasing a two year-old and wondered if I was capable of still being a good mom with more kids. I thought maybe God heard me and knew I couldn’t handle it. I’ve also thought that I was being punished for choices I made in my past… like God must be mad at me for something or that my faith just wasn’t strong enough. 

Christan: Were you mad at God?

Jami: Oh, yes! Sometimes I still slip back into this anger. He gave. He took away. And then He took more away. I’m infertile. There was a time, though, that I was so angry with Him I didn’t talk to Him for a long time. I went through the motions, so no one knew. I stopped singing to Him in my heart. I’d go to church and just stand there during praise and worship — not singing — with a cold heart. It was really hard to cut that out of my life. It was so second nature for me to start up a conversation with God… I’d find myself doing just that, remember how angry I was, and stop.

Christan: Are you still mad at Him?

Jami:  That’s such a hard question. I hate telling people that I’m still angry sometimes.  This is what it is, you know? I’ve had people tell me that it’s a sin to be angry at God and it’s wrong because His way is perfect, so whatever He does is what should happen. I don’t want it to be His way sometimes. I want it be my way.

It really depends on where I am. I work at a preschool, and half the moms are pregnant. I have to face it every day, and it’s hard. It’s really hard to see everyday what I’m not going to get. I’m more angry when pregnant women are right in front of me.

I know that God loves me, and that He wants the best for me. I have to preach that to myself over and over, and it’s an everyday thing. It’s like a person who deals with alcoholism and wakes up every day going into the world knowing they can’t have what they want. I, too, have to wake up everyday knowing I desperately want another baby, but I can’t.

But God knows we’re human. He made us. I have to pour out my heart to Him about how angry I am with the situation. I ask Him what to do.  When I open up to Him, I do feel peace at times. I also have to let go of myself — wanting to be pregnant took up so much of my life. It’s a very selfish mindset.  t’s been me for so long, wanting it, wanting it, wanting it. I feel like God is saying “no”. I feel like I need to let go of what I want and somehow find contentment in that, but I don’t want to many days. I have to let go of myself and my wants over and over and over everyday. 

Christan: You’ve obviously healed over the years.  How did that happen?

Jami: My family. People listening to me helped. I know that there’s some people I drove crazy by talking about my miscarriage and infertility. There’s others that just listened to me — and still listen to me — for however long I want to talk about it.

I do guard myself sometimes. I stay away from situations where I know I’ll get angry. I don’t go to baby showers. I’ve lost friends, I really have. I hate admitting that because it’s selfish — it’s a very selfish part of me. If a mom comes in who is pregnant or has a new baby, I usually step away.

I’ve prayed. I still pray that God will take the desire to get pregnant away from me. So far, the desire remains. I still hope for this, though. I do feel like just asking this of Him, though, lessens the pain and reminds me to surrender. Reminds me to trust. It’s still really hard.

Christan: Looking back, has God redeemed any of the brokenness?

Jami:  That’s hard to answer. I guess I can see that Jim and I have come closer together.  I’ve learned who I can trust and lean on, and I have a deeper understanding of trusting my Savior. I wish my story was one where I went years and years of not getting pregnant and then all of the sudden I find out I’m pregnant… music swells… we make excited phone calls… we kiss passionately… happily ever after. I know this is not what my Lord has planned. I know infertility was not His original plan for this world, but we all tasted the fruit. We all nailed Him to the tree. This is my part in the brokenness. His suffering is my suffering. For Him I can endure.

My prayer life has changed more from a focus on me and my wants to other people. It seems like for so long I was just praying I would get pregnant and everything else was forgotten. When I finally let go and gave control to God, I could see I was not using my prayer life to its fullest, and my praying changed.

Everyday, though, I wake up and realize I’m infertile and that I’ve lost something. Everyday I have to deal with the anger and make a choice about what I am going to do with it. I’m constantly depending on God for help in this area. Sometimes I am bitter. All the emotions can come and go depending on where I am and what I’m faced with and I make a choice on how I respond.

It’s not always a pretty picture. I’m a sinner and I get ugly. How wonderful that because of Jesus I know that God is looking at me and sees me as pure and beautiful. I’m forgiven for the ugliness in my heart.

Christan: How have you used your suffering to help other women deal with their own infertility and loss?

Jami: I write about infertility, and this has actually helped with my own healing. I’d love to start a support group but that always makes me nervous. Things like that are so important, though. Infertility is a very lonely affliction. 


And so Jami waited as her heart was transformed and her understanding of her Maker and Redeemer matured. I remember times when I knew about others’ pain — miscarriage, a still-born baby, a cancer diagnosis, and on and on and on — and I remained silent. Not wanting to say the wrong thing, I said nothing at all. I grieve now over my cowardliness. I’m embarrassed of my fear of stumbling upon my words and appearing foolish — ashamed of my selfishness. Let us all be inspired even today to love others well.

Join me tomorrow as Jami’s story continues to unfold. You’ll never guess what God’s writing…

 

photo source | milada vigerova

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