Chelsey
Mother to Three Blessings
Grand Rapids, Michigan
Most people who know me know I’ve had a miscarriage. What they don’t know is I’ve actually had what some people call two “chemical pregnancies” and an eight week miscarriage. Call them what you like but to me they are all my pregnancies, my babies. My first two losses left me confused and lonely. I kept them to myself and buried them down where I thought I couldn’t feel them. I didn’t feel like I was allowed to mourn because they had been so early and the doctor had even classified them as “spontaneous abortions”. Even typing that phrase out makes my stomach turn. They were my babies and nothing less. But that’s what I did. I hid them and suffered in silence for every day after. My third loss broke me and I grieved them all all at once. It was my 25th birthday and I was 8 weeks along. I had started bleeding a few days before but nothing too extreme and I kept being told it was “normal”. The morning of my birthday I woke up with heavier bleeding and more painful cramping. Again I was told to just wait it out and that these things can still be normal and my next blood draw would give more indication. I tried to put on a brace smile for the day while my husband, friends, and family showered me with birthday surprises but I knew. I knew exactly what was happening. I was losing my baby. Again. On a larger scale. I ended up leaving my birthday dinner that night to go to the ER where I watched and felt my baby leave me. It was the most traumatic thing I’ve ever been through. The pain I felt as it happened was the pain of labor. The blood I saw all around me was my child I longed so badly for. And the body I was trapped in was my enemy. I spent weeks not talking to anyone and shaming myself with guilt and anger. My browser history was full of “can this cause miscarriage” “can that kill a baby”. I had to find out what I did wrong because clearly it was my fault. As far as I was concerned I was a failure as a wife, a failure as a mother, a failure as a woman. I became consumed with researching and reading until 4am every night about miscarriages and I had my theories about what I did wrong. I lost sight of who I was. Who the woman God created me to be was. Then a song came on the radio one day that flipped a switch in me. Just Be Held by Casting Crowns. I re surrendered my heart that day and found rest. My researching then changed. I started looking for support rather than guilt and I came across so many women sharing their stories. I was reminded that we we are not victims of this world, that we can overcome anything with each other and God on our side. I was reminded of the strength and courage it takes to share our stories. That our stories are important. He is able to make beautiful things out of dust. So to the women who have looked life’s hardships in the eyes and said you will not be broken. That you will not lose faith. Be bold. Share your stories. You are the change. Most importantly, remember the one who created you. He created you with purpose. Be intentional with that purpose. A daughter of the King is the strongest woman there is, don’t forget that. I am 1 in 4 and I will not suffer in silence any more.
Chelsea can be reached at cnhouvener@gmail.com