No matter how small

My favorite Dr. Seuss character is Horton, who is known for saying, "I meant what I said and I said what I meant, an elephant's faithful, one hundred per cent!" The Horton quote that has frequently come to my mind over the past couple of weeks is "a person's a person, no matter how small" in reference to my recent miscarriage. When I had my first miscarriage in 2005, I quickly learned that although people mean well, they can easily say the wrong thing. People were trying to offer comfort through spoken and written words to me, but sometimes inwardly my response was "ouch!" to what they said. Several referred to it as a "disappointment." An ectopic pregnancy involves the loss of a child. It's not just a disappointment. I remember thinking that if they were attending a funeral, they wouldn't refer to someone's death as a "disappointment." Some said "at least you know you can get pregnant" because it was our first pregnancy after trying for three years. I had made a similar statement to a friend of mine after she miscarried; after my miscarriage I apologized to her, as I had learned the hard way that this is not at all a comforting statement to make to a woman who has recently miscarried. There is no guarantee that the woman will be pregnant again in the future, and it makes light of the loss of that particular child.

I thought that this miscarriage would be much easier to handle than the two I had before I gave birth to my three children. It has been a little easier because my arms are no longer empty, but it's been a lot harder than I thought it would be. I mentioned this to someone, and she said that she knew a woman who had eleven children. She had a miscarriage after her tenth child, and many made comments implying that she shouldn't be grieving the loss since she already had ten children at home. She responded that she loved each child right from the start. A friend of mine whom I met on an online discussion board ten years ago has had two children through ivf. Although she has never experienced a miscarriage, she has been extremely compassionate to me through my loss. Last week she surprised me with a delivery of six chocolate covered strawberries as her way of recognizing my loss. It meant so much to me to sense that a friend was truly "weeping with those who weep." In the past I have sent cards and emails to friends who have gone through a miscarriage, but I've never gone beyond that. A man from my handbell choir had flowers delivered to my house after my second miscarriage in 2007. The next time I find out that a friend has had a miscarriage, I am going to show my sympathy in a more tangible way. It's customary in our culture to do something when there is a funeral involved, but it's not the norm after a miscarriage. "A person's a person, no matter how small." One blessing that can come out of suffering is that it can help me be better equipped to minister to others.