Christina Mead

I didn’t have a “miscarriage” … I had a baby, and now my baby is gone. My child was here and now is not.

I didn’t suffer a “miscarriage” … I suffered the loss of my firstborn. The little boy or girl who first made me a mom, who made Dan a father. That child changed our world forever and now we won’t get to know who they are until we’re all in heaven together. “Miscarriage” doesn’t encompass that.

I hate the word “miscarriage” because it’s so impersonal. It sounds like a condition. Or a sickness. Rather than a tragedy that leaves you emotionally raw and physically empty — the body matching the brokenness of your heart.

I never knew I could hate a word so much. But when the word feels like it minimizes your sad reality, reducing it to a temporary condition to get over… it makes sense to hate it.

My child’s life, no matter how short, was beautiful and full of dignity because he or she mattered to us. My child was loved from those first two pink lines and our love will never cease. That child was planned by God and given to us to be our little saint, safer in God’s arms than ours.

All the pain, all the longing, all the tears, all the joy of motherhood and fatherhood, all the grief, all the grace to be found at the foot of the cross — it can’t be contained in a word like miscarriage. I won’t try. I’ve stopped using it. My baby went to heaven. That’s what happened.


You Are Enough

Don’t ever forget that okay? You are beautiful and precious and deserve good things — and I can’t tell you that enough! Look I even dedicated a side-bar-box-thing to it. God has a plan and a purpose for your life and He died and rose again because He wants to spend forever with you! Okay, read on. Important reminder over.

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“And over all these virtues put on love, which binds them all together in perfect unity.” Colossians 3:14

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