KATHRYN MANN | GUEST
Editor’s Note: The following contains Kathryn’s story about miscarriage.
“Kathryn, it’s not looking good today.”
These words still haunt me today. Several months ago, I was eight weeks pregnant. Just a few days earlier, my husband and I had gone in for our first appointment. We were full of nerves and excitement.
Lub-dub. Lub-dub. Lub-dub. What a privilege to hear our baby’s heart beating–a heart so small yet so strong, creating the most exquisite melody.
After a little symptom scare, I went back to the clinic to hear the worst news possible. My baby’s heart had stopped beating.
I proclaim God’s goodness every day. Even when my father passed away two years ago, I felt my faith strengthened, and I wanted to encourage others more than ever to trust Him. But the death of my baby shook me. As a mother, you are deeply bonded to your baby from the beginning, and the loss of a baby in the womb is the heartbreaking loss of your child. To the eyes of the world, I do not look like a mother. I have no baby bump. I have no baby in my arms. I do not carry around a diaper bag. Rather, I despair the emptiness of my womb, my arms long to hold my baby, and I carry the weight of grief on my shoulders.
From the very moment I found out I was growing a babe in my womb, I never ceased praying for my baby, especially for my baby’s heart. Lord, keep that heart growing and beating strong.
And then to hear the heart was beating no more…why had God not answered my prayers?…
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