All posts tagged: grief

Attention: Champions of Life

Never have I been more aware of how precious life is. In the past two weeks, three friends have given birth to beautiful, healthy babies. One made her entrance at just 30 weeks, weighing less than 1.4kg. She is doing marvellously, as is mum. Sadly, I know another couple who was only given an hour with their newborn son before he breathed his last. We joined that family as they lowered a tiny coffin into the ground. Still another husband-and-wife pair have traveled such a heart-wrenching journey with their son who has cancer. They have fought for his life so gallantly, making use of all the available treatment facilities in Melbourne, praying on his behalf like the warriors they are. And my husband and I have known the grief of miscarriage recently too. Through all these separate but somehow similar situations that champion the inherent value of life, our Tasmanian government is attempting to change abortion laws to allow greater access to pregnancy termination. And for every pregnancy termination, a little life is also terminated. …

Let Me Be Singing When the Evening Comes

At church yesterday we had an opportunity to share what we were thankful for in 2012. The response was not what I expected. Practically every person who garnered courage to stand up, walk to the front and level their mouth at the microphone shared a story of thankfulness despite and in the midst of hardship. Grief had touched so many people in our congregation last year. One young man said he was thankful for God’s faithfulness through the loss of his sister. One woman was thankful despite the loss of a dear friend through terminal illness – who died one day before she returned from overseas. Another was thankful for her daughter, even though she did not live beyond the womb. She was so thankful for that little life and the promise of holding her one day in heaven. A man approached the microphone and shared a similar story – that he and his wife had lost a son in 2012 and the first thing they did was drop to their knees and thank God for what …

Miscarriage.

My heart has felt the weight of a great something lately; let’s call it a stone. A stone pressing down with immense weight and pressure on my lifesource so that every other piece of me has felt languid, heavy. I have lain awake at night, listening to its beat while thought and breath synchronised in a slow pas de deux. You see, I lost my baby. I was 12 weeks pregnant when my miscarriage happened, about six weeks ago. It’s still raw. Why would I write about something so personal, you ask? Not for your sympathy. No. Rather, because I have learnt that miscarriage is a common sadness (about one in five pregnancies end in miscarriage), one that many women carry in silence, on their own. Let’s not do that. I didn’t meet my baby, didn’t know his or her personality, likes and dislikes, quirks and habits. I just knew there was life within me, life brimming with potential. Yet the grief has been deep and painful and suffocating. A mother’s love for her child is full-blown …