Posted by: littlebitofparadise | March 28, 2014

A Grief Observed (Miscarriage Musings)


“No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. The same fluttering stomach, the same restlessness, the yawning…

There are moments, most unexpectedly, when something inside me tries to assure me that I don’t really mind so much, not so very much, after all. Love is not the whole of man’s life…. People get over these things. Come, I shan’t do so badly. One is ashamed to listen to this voice but it seems for a little to be making out a good case. Then comes a sudden jab of red-hot memory and all this “commonsense” vanishes like an ant in the mouth of a furnace.”

– C. S. Lewis, A Grief Observed

The Mamas who had walked a mile in my sorrow, they told me to expect the extra heart weight and heart ache on my due date…and when any of my girlfriends announced a pregnancy…and when a friend gave birth to a baby…and on the anniversary of my baby’s death.

And those sweet grieving Mamas, they were correct. All of those occasions hurt, some more than others.

But nobody prepared me for what it would feel like on the day I should have been hosting my baby’s first birthday party. That party would have been should have been tomorrow.

If you’ve read my blog for any length of time you know I’m all about my babies’ first birthdays. My own Mom once said that every other birthday is all about celebrating the child, but the FIRST birthday is about celebrating the child’s mama, too. Because we both “made it” through the first year. That first year feedings and burpings and snuggles and growing pains. All those milestones that flood life one after the other. The first birthday is a chance to celebrate all of those hard and wonderful, irrepeatable things.

Unexpectedly, this month has been full of grief for the child I lost, for the little one whose first birthday would have been this week. Not being able to host a first birthday party reminds me, I suppose, of all the milestones and memories I do not share with my baby…all the things we didn’t get to experience together.

It’s a strange sorrow, because even as I yearn to know and hold the baby I lost, I fully realize that my sweet baby Garrett would not be alive today if his older sibling (by 4 months) had lived. I hold Garrett and know that I cannot possibly live without him for a single moment – he means the world to me. And so it makes my sorrow for my Little One in heaven all the more…confusing. Strange. I don’t know how else to describe it.

I am not an expert on dealing with miscarriage and I hope I never am, but I guess I’ve learned this one little thing I can share with other moms who may have lost a child:

Don’t let anyone tell you when the hard times will come. Yes, it may be extra hard around the baby’s due date or anniversary of death. And then again it might not be hard for you. Either way, it is fine to feel any and every emotion that you do. But know that sometimes your grief will come and knock you over, completely by surprise. The “red-hot jab of memory” will seer your heart and consume your thoughts. And that’s okay too. Life is hard, and so is remembering the ones we’ve had to let go.

 Sweet Little One, you have my heart forever. And I miss you.



  1. Prayers for you, Steph…such a beautiful post.

  2. My mom was an RN who worked mostly in postpartum care. She once had a patient who delivered triplets, but one of the babies died. When Mom went in to check on the patient, the patient was alone in her room, sobbing her heart out. But when she saw Mom, she tried to stop, swiped at her tears, and said, “I know I should be grateful for the two healthy babies I have, but I just can’t stop crying.”

    Mom said, “It’s okay to grieve for the child you lost. Having two healthy children doesn’t mean you miss any less the child you lost, and it doesn’t make you any less grateful for the children who remain.”

    Although Garrett would not be here but for what happened, your child who died was your child, and there’s nothing “strange” about grieving that child’s death. He or she was your child; there’s nothing more that needs be said to “explain” why you are grieving. And it doesn’t make you any less grateful for Garrett.

    My prayers are with you and your husband during this bittersweet anniversary. God bless.

  3. Wonderful post, Stephanie! It is so true. I still fight back tears on occasion when I think of the little one we lost.

  4. Beautiful post, Steph! Sending prayers.

  5. I just lost my little one almost four months ago now, and it’s been really hard lately… Thank you for this post. I’m praying for you, too!

  6. I am so very sorry for your loss…I cannot imagine the pain of having lost a child. Peace and prayers~~~your little one waits for you in Heaven and is forever grateful to you for giving him or her the chance to have lived, even for such a short time, and to know and love Jesus forever.

  7. I just recently found your blog & I’m going back and reading posts that I connect to. That process will take a bit of time as I’m a mom of 4 :-).
    I too have suffered loss. I have lost two babies. My first was my very first pregnancy and my oldest daughter, Maria (who is 7 and about to make her First Holy Communion this weekekend!) could not have been born if that baby had lived. I so relate to the confusing feelings of longing to have both children and knowing that’s not possible.

    My 2nd loss happened between my 3rd, Lucy, age 4 (4th pregnancy) and my 4th, Patrick, who turns ONE next week, (6th pregnancy). They would be extremely close in age, but it would be possible to have that baby AND Patrick. I have equally mixed up feelings with that situation.

    This is a long share, I apologize. But, I have a feeling you know how cathartic it can be to share with other mamas who *know*.

    Prayers for you! I’m happy I found your blog.

    • Sarah THANK YOU so much for sharing your story. And I’m so sorry for your losses too. Hope our angel babies can be friends in heaven 🙂

  8. […] written in past years about the baby we lost and my grieving process. Wish I could tell you it gets less painful with time. It gets – different – but not […]

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