I found myself in a stretching place over a decade ago and certain I couldn’t handle one more loss. All of the things that I desperately wanted in my life seemed to slip so quickly out of reach. I became a woman who was good at losing things. Misplaced faith and the burning question, “Why me?” At that time in my life, I kept a journal to process my jacked-up feelings.

The sound of my pen on paper that night sounded like a thousand whys asking all the wrong questions, but mainly just feeling sorry for myself. I remember a moment of being still and knowing that God was with me. The rhythmic sound of my hand brushing across the page ceased as I wondered if I was sinning for being angry. Just moments before, I was in the Emergency Room looking at an ultrasound that confirmed what I feared the most. Two days before I was elated looking at two pink lines on a stick, but as we traveled to my parent’s house to celebrate Christmas, something didn’t feel right. Not long after we arrived, I began to hemorrhage.

I chronicled the next three years my ups and downs; another miscarriage, another diagnosis, surgery, and then a treatment that made me feel like hell was one mile from my house because of the hot flashes from medically induced menopause. I craved carbs, cried a lot, my bones hurt, and not to be overly dramatic or anything but…I felt like I was dying.

I realized that God was big enough to handle all of my uncertainty. Feeling much like I only deserved anger in return, all I felt was lavish grace- the kind that covers all the cracked places inside of jagged hearts from a million questions that began with why.

I dove headfirst into a layer of darkness and sadness for a while, fighting to feel joy again, and then the fog lifted. Slowly the light turned on inside of my heart. I started seeking God instead of just seeking healing in the hopes that I could have what I wanted. Hope began to rise as I learned how to relax and let go of things that didn’t matter. I took off that mask we wear as women, that one that says, “I’m fine” when we really aren’t.

It turns out that losing things built the very best in my character and in the way I seek God with every fiber of who I am. Those tattered memories that I wished had never happened became a great place to start in ministry. All of that baggage became a platform because I learned how to get through things that are so freaking hard to get over. I don’t think the goal is to be unbroken anymore like I once thought. The goal is to be broken in all the right moments where we become less and God becomes the more we all long for.

Sometimes things have to get messy before we begin to mend, but I promise you it is so worth it. Beautiful things can come from your mess, I’m living proof of this. Keep going deeper. Angry journal, cry, do whatever it takes as long you run to God instead of away from him. You can trust him with all of your heart.

Research shows that 1 in 4 known pregnancies end in miscarriage, so if you are part of the 1 in 4 tribe who have suffered the loss of a baby through miscarriage or stillbirth, please know that you are not alone. It was not your fault. God is not mad if you cry, cuss, or can’t pray. God is well versed in the language of tears and your pain will never make him uncomfortable. Feel everything unapologetically, and grieve this loss on your terms. Find someone to talk to or a counselor to walk with you through this

Much love to you,

Jennifer Renee

Through him we have also obtained access by faith into this grace in which we stand, and we rejoice in hope of the glory of God. More than that, we rejoice in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not put us to shame, because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit who has been given to us. (Romans 5:2-5)