Let’s Be a Safe place to share
Have a story of grief to share on the blog?
There is something healing about writing it out, being heard, and letting some of those painful parts go. Sharing your story and reading other people’s stories is so powerful knowing that we can walk this painful road together. If you have a story of grief that you would like to share on the Permission to Mourn Blog please email ruth.potinu@permissiontomourn.com
Click the links below to read stories of those in the midst of walking through grief. May their honest thoughts be a comfort.
“Now we sit here, alone in our home, our kids back at school, meals starting to come in, a nursery full of clothes, diapers and baby girl decorations. Plus, we went through every aspect of pregnancy: gender reveal, setting up the nursery, even a small baby shower last week, then labor, delivery and her body now ready to take care of our baby…but no baby to show. It makes no sense at all…for God to be faithful in bringing us to this place of healing and ability to have another child and to take her away from us…”
“Sitting here, a week after delivering our perfectly beautiful 38 week old still-born baby girl, I wish I still had the luxury of “Even If.” Instead it’s “already dead.” There’s no room for God to move and declarations that we will remain faithful even if He doesn’t. The promises have gone void and the future as we knew it has been stolen. There were no precious newborn cries upon delivery. The only sound that could be heard was my own gut-wrenching, barely-able-to-breath-through-it sobbing. There were no beautiful blue or brown or hazel eyes looking up at me. Only a baby whose life had been taken by the very thing that had sustained her as she grew in the darkness of my womb. She had ten perfect little fingers that will never grasp onto mine and the sweetest little toes that will never be painted by her older sister…
Kissing the Waves
Guest post by Rachel Espazien
“I have learned to kiss the waves that throw me up against the Rock of Ages.”
–Charles H. Spurgeon
I lay there crying, the events of the night plunging me into sadness every time I thought about it. It was the morning after we lost our baby to miscarriage. I had labored through the night to expel the signs of pregnancy from my body. All of my dreams for our child falling away too. I quickly learned of a different sort of pain. One that comes from deep inside of you.
At ten weeks three days of pregnancy I was still having a hard time believing there was really a human growing inside of me. In an instant the child that came into our life by surprise left before we even had the chance to hear his heartbeat.
I was never scared of pregnancy. I have witnessed 54 natural births, most of which I assisted. I read birth books and watched birth stories. I never doubted that my body was designed for this.
Tainted with pain and gore, childbirth is what a woman was made to do. I was prepared for pregnancy and even birth, but nothing could have prepared me for the loss of my first child.
