There’s an outfit in my closet that I refer to as my miscarriage outfit. I know, it sounds morbid, doesn’t it? But after all this time it has just become a casual term for one of my favorite things to wear. There’s my “cozy-Sunday-afternoon-in-the-winter” outfit, my “chic-going-on-a-date-with-my-man” outfit, and there’s the “miscarriage” outfit. The phrase brings no tears, no pain, just great endearment towards the family members who gave it to me at a time when I needed them and somehow they knew exactly what to do for me.
The week following the miscarriage, my dear mother, sister and sister-in-law all drove three hours to come stay with me, share my grief, and make me feel loved. They brought me chocolate, took me out to eat, and bought me the most comfy, casual (but cute!), capri sweatsuit outfit that I’ll probably ever own. They didn’t try and get me to count my blessings or make promises that they couldn’t confirm would be fulfilled. They were just there—listening, loving, simply being present. Two out of the three women had themselves lost children in the womb (one of them several times). They knew what to do. Not everyone does. I was very blessed.
The next time you hear of a miscarriage, consider whether you can do more than just send a card or make a call. Think about what women in general (and this friend in particular) enjoy, what makes them feel comfortable and loved. Delicious food, cozy outfits, visits from people they love, a good laugh, an inspiring movie. Maybe you aren’t close enough to the person or in a position where you can just drop everything and be with her, but a thoughtful gesture or gift can make a woman feel as if she’s just received a comforting embrace, even if you can’t be there in person.
So thank you mom, Anne, and Amy. Every time I pull on those capris and zip up that sweatshirt I am reminded of the love that my Lord showed me through each of you, who selflessly rushed to my side when you knew I was in pain. I haven’t forgotten.