In 1988, I gave birth to my first child. She was beautiful and healthy. I marveled at her tiny toes and the way she loved to snuggle next to me when she slept. As I was learning how to mother for the first time, the President of the United States made a declaration that wouldn’t mean anything to me until 2004.
President Ronald Reagan signed Proclamation 5890, designating October 1988 as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. His proclamation noted that roughly a million pregnancies in the United States ended each year in miscarriage, stillbirth, or the death of a newborn, and he called the nation to understand the great tragedy of these losses.
Before October became a month of awareness, most parents grieved in silence. Many did not tell even their own families that they had lost a preborn baby. I’m grateful President Reagan recognized the pain families feel when they lose a preborn baby. His compassion permitted grieving families to stop hiding their pain.
Novelist Jay Neugeboren put words to this grief in his book An Orphan’s Tale: “A wife who loses a husband is called a widow. A husband who loses a wife is called a widower. A child who loses his parents is called an orphan. There is no word for a parent who loses a child. That’s how awful the loss is.”
Donny and I had three children in the early 2000s when we decided we wanted more. Truth be told, I knew I wanted more long before Donny came to his realization.
The moment came during breakfast at a hotel outside of Nashville. Jordan, our youngest daughter, was devouring a sugar donut. Most of the white powder was on her face, and she looked adorable. I turned to Donny and asked, “Why wouldn’t you want more of that?” I was half-joking, half-serious. But he replied, “Maybe I do.”
Within months, we were pregnant.
I was almost through the first trimester when I noticed spotting. Within hours, I was cramping. By Monday, my uterus was empty. At the time, God told me, “There will be more babies.”
We grieved the loss of a child we would never know, but soon after, we were pregnant again. Within months, we were grieving another baby.
The cycle repeated…two more times.
Our last miscarriage, in the second trimester, was a set of identical twin boys. We had barely celebrated the news of two babies when we learned neither of them had a heartbeat. Our hearts were devastated. “God, You said there would be more babies, but are any of them going to live?” I cried.
We struggled to know what to do next. With the twins, I had to have a D&C, but the procedure went wrong. The catheter went through my uterus and into my colon. I woke up with no babies and faced a grueling six-week medical recovery.
Donny wanted to stop. The agony of watching me suffer and dealing with his own grief was too much. I begged him to give us one more chance to carry a baby to term.
Three months later, we were pregnant again. By then, doctors had discovered I had a blood disorder. They prescribed daily shots, and the pregnancy progressed to full term.
Almost a year after our last miscarriage, we drove back to the hospital, and I gave birth to a healthy baby boy, Jedidiah. Everyone in the delivery room cried as our son came out of my womb.
Our journey didn’t end when we brought Jedidiah home. While my arms were finally full, my soul still carried the deep emotional trauma of losing five babies. Wounds that only God could heal. Even after twenty years, I still miss them more than human words can explain.
I honor them every time I introduce myself as the mother of nine children. Everyone in the room is amazed until I explain that five of our babies are in heaven and four are here on earth.
Not a day goes by that I don’t think about the babies we lost, but October holds a special place in my heart. Each year on October 15, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day, we gather with other families at a local church and light a luminary for our five babies: Joy, Samuel, Joshua, James, and John. Donny and I thank God for each of their lives.
If you have lost a preborn baby, I invite you to join with countless families around the world this year. Light a candle in honor of your precious baby.
If you are struggling, I know how hard it can be to trust God while you walk through the valley of weeping. After our losses, I read that God collects our tears in a bottle (Psalm 56:8), and I remember wondering, how big is that bottle? Not only is His bottle big enough, but this verse also reminds us He is present. He stays close enough to catch every tear. That’s how much He cares for us when we grieve.
Whether your loss happened last month or many years ago, the pain of miscarriage often needs special attention. Many women never grieve their babies; they learn to carry the pain in silence. That’s why I wrote Waiting for Jedidiah: How to Experience God’s Healing After a Miscarriage. The book guides you along the path of healing and restoration. You can find the book on Amazon at https://a.co/d/03xrzPT
After you read the book, I’d love for you to share your healing story with me at bettyringeisen.com.
