Empty Arms


Posted by  on Jan 20, 2015 in Grief/Miscarriage

Genesis 5020Seven years ago my life changed when I experienced my first miscarriage. It was about this time of January that I lay in an ultrasound suite with my husband, both of us expecting to see a heartbeat and meet our new little one through the wonders of ultrasound technology. Instead, with each passing moment, the tech’s persona became more solemn. Then we were ushered to the doctor’s office — something that hadn’t happened in my earlier pregnancies.

Instead of walking out with a CD of images of our baby, I walked out knowing this was a child I would not meet this side of heaven.

I can still feel the overwhelming sense of loss and disbelief.

My life was changed. Today, I want to share with you a post I wrote two months later about a special service held in our community…maybe it will inspire you to seek something similar in yours.

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(March 2007) Ever go through a season in life where you just know that God is teaching you something. And part of that is opening your eyes to the pain in other peoples’ lives.

I have been blessed beyond measure. My life has been sheltered from so much pain.

Then at the end of January I had a miscarriage.

Even typing those words hurts.

It’s not until you experience it that it really sinks in just how many baby things exists in this world. I can’t even get milk from our local Wal-Mart without passing the diapers and adorable baby outfits. Try walking through a mall without wincing when you see Motherhood Maternity or the cute clothes at Children’s Place, Old Navy, or Kohls.

I am blessed with two beautiful children. Wonderful children. But my arms still feel very empty right now.

Saturday our local hospital partnered with a parish and funeral home to hold a beautiful memorial service for families who had suffered a perinatal loss. They do this three times a year and have a permanent memorial for these little ones. What a wonderful way to acknowledge the grief and begin the process of moving on. It also provides a place for families to return to on those hard days like due dates, anniversaries, etc. And it acknowledges the real pain that people feel when they walk through this process.

As I’ve thought about it and talked to others, I’ve realized just how unique this service (and all the other support the hospital provides) is. Yet around 25% of pregnancies end prematurely from miscarriage. What an opportunity for churches and crisis pregnancy centers to step in and reach out to another subset of women who are deeply wounded by pregnancy loss.

So this isn’t my typical kind of post. But it’s where I am right now. And who knows, maybe this will help ignite a dream or ministry in your heart to reach out to women in pain.

Because as we know, Jesus provides hope and healing. But sometimes He chooses to work through us.

Copyright © 2013 Cara Putman 



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