Miscarriage: Through the pain and disappointment, we see with clarity a vision of hope and love

This was it! I can’t believe at age 42 we would actually get pregnant. Prayers answered!

Our five-year-old son, Sterling, has asked the good Lord every night for two years. To be preggos at this age is so amazing! Secretly, I’ve been praying for a girl. Let’s be honest. . .we all do that for our second child after we pray for a healthy child first. But Sterling wants a sister, too. In fact, he prays this every night at bedtime after he prays for Captain Underpants comic books and Wild Krats animal figurines.

We unveiled the coming of our new child on the beach during the summer and let the whole world of Facebook know about it immediately. The excitement was overflowing and frankly, we didn’t care that people told us we should “wait” to share publicly until we made it beyond the 12-week mark. We know that being over 40 put us in the “high-risk” category but we didn’t care and anyone who knows us knows that our household only operates from a place of love—not fear.

For the next several weeks after returning home to Covington, we were cautious and preparing for a follow-up doctor appointment. This was an exciting time as we also were preparing to put our home on the market. This was it! This was the year of “break-out” as we knew that many exciting changes were at work in our lives. New ministry paths that we are both passionate about, a possible new home and community, a new school for Sterling and now—a new baby on the way.

But at about week eight of the pregnancy, I felt a bit nervous as a first sign of what’s called “spotting” had occurred in which during the period, light amounts of blood are present — and we learn this is normal.

Quickly following this was an unexpected amount of abdominal pain and doubling over in agony. We immediately headed to the hospital where we were rushed in with great care.

Numerous exams, tests, rounds of bloodwork and an ultra-sound would tell us that we are ok and this looks to be a potentially tough pregnancy — see, I knew it was a girl! They always say girls are the most difficult in birth.

So in efforts to keep a close eye on the baby, we scheduled two follow-up rounds of blood tests in the coming days. This is an effort to monitor cell growth in the womb. Before we left the hospital, there was a more prevalent amount of blood loss but they weren’t concerned at this point.

After the 48-hour waiting period, we did the first round of bloodwork to get a new understanding of cell growth. So far, things looked good -— not great– but we had to await another blood test in an additional 48 hours. The stomach pains over this time became worse and there was no sign of comfort. Sadly, the second test had revealed the cell count was only trending down rapidly, showing no signs of life.

This was it.

We lost the baby.

This first-ever miscarriage was a devastating blow to me and our family. I cried out in agony asking God “why” knowing it has taken us over two years.

How do we explain death to our 5-year-old boy? What do we tell Sterling about his unanswered prayers? What did I do wrong? Is there something I could have done to prevent this? How will this unborn child safely pass without causing serious health problems? What do I do in the meantime while this dead fetus remains? These are horribly difficult but real questions that consume me.

All I could do was cry. I sobbed and I sobbed. I couldn’t stop the crying for days and even weeks.

I felt responsible. I felt a sadness that can’t be described. Nothing anyone could say gave comfort or peace. Even women who had multiple miscarriages -— they just couldn’t grasp my grief.

It was my baby. It was my grief. It was my sorrow.

The hurt and agony of not just the loss of a life in the womb, but the loss of hope was unfathomable.

No one could truly understand my hurt -— they could empathize, but they just could not simply understand how hard we tried. To go from an extreme high of happiness and joy to uncertainty to joy again to complete loss in just a few weeks was overwhelming. I was amputated in my spirit and in every inch of my being. And that love in my heart and home became replaced with fear and anxiety.

After all of this, I can merely pray that I haven’t misunderstood this heartbreaking miscarriage experience. Even though I can only relate, comfort and empathize -— these are just my feelings.

I can share and love her through this but I will never fully grasp what this was like for my wife.

This experience moving into 2020 has caused our family to “see” with a vision of clarity that gives us hope, encouragement and life to see, be and free ourselves.

Please take time to love others and to relate to them for who they are, where they are, and ‘why’ they are in life. After all, Christ did this for us. Show love and compassion. . .be kind.

Above all, Love.

Warner A. Allen is a father, husband, writer, and 25-year strategist of public relations, marketing communications and development works out of early retirement with BLOC Ministries.