The resonated deeply with me. After six losses, I've felt absolutely forsaken, but by who/what, I don't know. Raised Catholic but not practicing, infertility and loss pushed me to pray, to wear an emblem of St. Colette around my neck, to frantic internal Hail Marys during IVF transfers. It also pushed me to put some degree of hope in crystals, in positive signs from nature, signs from songs, signs everywhere, all ultimately proven false when another baby's heartbeat stopped at the end of the first trimester. Did I not believe enough? Is it because I'm a fair weather Catholic? Is it because, because, because...?
After my last loss, I spent a few weeks thinking that this was the moment my life would change. I'd eat/pray/love or start running or find religion or anything that would help me move past five years of the worst pain of my life. A friend finally gently told me that maybe instead I should find one thing a day that felt good. I never did find religion, but I did find embroidery and walks outside and looking at birds.
This is a perfect analogy, though after so much loss, I also feel a bit ridiculous peeking for the treasure.: It’s more like living in a house while it’s being destroyed and re-built around you. Everything is a test, everything is a challenge. Everything shifting all the time. You see the splintering plaster and shards of wood, but you’re also still sure you can find treasure in the attic if you just look hard enough.
Thank you for your book and for this very comforting substack.
After my first miscarriage, I saw signs everywhere and was convinced the universe was leaving me messages. Rainbows were a particular thing I latched onto. After five miscarriages and no more babies (I am lucky enough to have one), I have stopped believing in the universe and signs. So I guess I've done the opposite to you 😆 I've gone from believing in some sort of benign power to believing that everything is random. It sounds quite bleak but is actually rather comforting. I feel freed from the idea that I can somehow manifest a baby and there is a lightness in that, for me.
I am a Christian (and have been since I was probably 4 years old). My husband and I both prayed and prayed for a baby when unexplained infertility was the reality of our situation from 2015-2019 after my first miscarriage in 2015. We did have comfort during that time from many members of our church family who prayed for us (including the pastor’s wife who eventually cried on the day we dedicated our daughter at 18 months old during a baby dedication service and talked about how she was an “answered prayer”). My sister and I both had dreams about me being pregnant prior to me finding out I was pregnant with my daughter, so it felt like a sign from God that something was about to happen.
With my losses, I have not felt forsaken by God per se; I have felt supported by so many family members and friends who have been there for us over the years.
I lean on my faith, and we named our daughter Hannah because of the Bible story where Hannah prayed for years before she had her son Samuel (which is my husband’s name).
We don’t really know what will happen in our future, but we definitely believe that despite all the difficulties we have had with infertility and recurrent losses, God answered our prayers for our daughter, and we are so thankful.
The resonated deeply with me. After six losses, I've felt absolutely forsaken, but by who/what, I don't know. Raised Catholic but not practicing, infertility and loss pushed me to pray, to wear an emblem of St. Colette around my neck, to frantic internal Hail Marys during IVF transfers. It also pushed me to put some degree of hope in crystals, in positive signs from nature, signs from songs, signs everywhere, all ultimately proven false when another baby's heartbeat stopped at the end of the first trimester. Did I not believe enough? Is it because I'm a fair weather Catholic? Is it because, because, because...?
After my last loss, I spent a few weeks thinking that this was the moment my life would change. I'd eat/pray/love or start running or find religion or anything that would help me move past five years of the worst pain of my life. A friend finally gently told me that maybe instead I should find one thing a day that felt good. I never did find religion, but I did find embroidery and walks outside and looking at birds.
This is a perfect analogy, though after so much loss, I also feel a bit ridiculous peeking for the treasure.: It’s more like living in a house while it’s being destroyed and re-built around you. Everything is a test, everything is a challenge. Everything shifting all the time. You see the splintering plaster and shards of wood, but you’re also still sure you can find treasure in the attic if you just look hard enough.
Thank you for your book and for this very comforting substack.
There is much wisdom in finding embroidery and walking and birds, I think. Things like that have helped me through my five losses. ❤️
After my first miscarriage, I saw signs everywhere and was convinced the universe was leaving me messages. Rainbows were a particular thing I latched onto. After five miscarriages and no more babies (I am lucky enough to have one), I have stopped believing in the universe and signs. So I guess I've done the opposite to you 😆 I've gone from believing in some sort of benign power to believing that everything is random. It sounds quite bleak but is actually rather comforting. I feel freed from the idea that I can somehow manifest a baby and there is a lightness in that, for me.
I am a Christian (and have been since I was probably 4 years old). My husband and I both prayed and prayed for a baby when unexplained infertility was the reality of our situation from 2015-2019 after my first miscarriage in 2015. We did have comfort during that time from many members of our church family who prayed for us (including the pastor’s wife who eventually cried on the day we dedicated our daughter at 18 months old during a baby dedication service and talked about how she was an “answered prayer”). My sister and I both had dreams about me being pregnant prior to me finding out I was pregnant with my daughter, so it felt like a sign from God that something was about to happen.
With my losses, I have not felt forsaken by God per se; I have felt supported by so many family members and friends who have been there for us over the years.
I lean on my faith, and we named our daughter Hannah because of the Bible story where Hannah prayed for years before she had her son Samuel (which is my husband’s name).
We don’t really know what will happen in our future, but we definitely believe that despite all the difficulties we have had with infertility and recurrent losses, God answered our prayers for our daughter, and we are so thankful.