Pockets of Grief

As Christmas nears, Allison Brown ponders the grief in her heart following a recent miscarriage, and shares resources to comfort other grieving moms.

On Sunday, as I was getting ready for church, I had my dress hanging off the door and was using my handheld steamer to get all the creases out.

My mind drifted to Christmas, wondering what I should wear. I suddenly felt a wave of emotion come over me, and I fought back the tears.

I remembered six months ago how excited I was and how much I looked forward to being pregnant at Christmas. This Christmas was going to be extra special with the expectation of the arrival of new life. I knew a new baby would add to the children's excitement as they talk about baby Jesus and the nativity scene.

I always loved being pregnant at Christmas and would feel a special closeness to Mary as I pondered how she managed back then to ride a donkey while heavily pregnant while I grimaced going over speed bumps in the car.

I would wonder if her heart felt the same as my heart felt. The feeling of the heart so full of love that it could burst.

I wonder when baby Jesus was placed in her arms for the first time if she cried and laughed, covering his precious little face with kisses, in total amazement at this miracle of life.

I wonder if she instinctively counted all ten fingers and toes as his chubby little fingers wrapped around hers.

And that single tear escapes, and I am caught off guard by the sudden ache in my heart.

Grief hasn't gone away just because it's Christmas

Everyone is busy getting ready for Christmas. It almost feels like July is now far, far away in the distance.

And here I am, still finding myself in these pockets of grief.

Sometimes, I fall into them unexpectedly; other times, I sit quietly in silence, wondering if anyone else has remembered and if they also noticed the additional space in our family this year.

Sometimes, I place my hands on my stomach, aware of the emptiness in my womb, while hoping for the impossible.

I stood on our front porch outside tonight, looking at our Mary garden. The Christmas lights twinkle around the statue of Mary.

The breeze is cool after a hot summer day.

I looked up at the night sky and noticed a small bright star peering through the clouds blanketing the dark sky.

Are my children in heaven looking down upon me? Can they see me gazing up at the sky, thinking how close heaven can sometimes seem yet feel so far away, just like the star in the sky tonight?

Does Jesus tell them about me? And does Mary wrap her mantle around them so they feel a mother's warmth?

Do the angels collect the many tears I have cried? And can the saints feel the ache I feel deep within my soul?

Does heaven tremble when a mother cries out in grief at the loss of her children?

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I sigh. There are many more questions than answers. I sense the Lord is asking me to be still and know He is here.

He is asking me to place my aching heart into His beloved heart. He is asking me to allow myself to be taken care of, to allow Him to take care of me and to cover my wounds with His precious blood.

He assures me that my children in heaven are happy because they belong to Him.

Reflection questions:

Are you struggling with grief this Christmas? Is the Lord inviting you to draw close to Him? The Lord wants to comfort us in this time of sorrow.

"Blessed are they who mourn, for they will be comforted." (Matthew 5:4)

Are you taking concrete steps to remain close to Him? Or is something holding you back? Fear? Unforgiveness? Anger? Shame? If so, what can you do to overcome these barriers?

Through confessions, we can receive healing and peace. Many exorcists have said that one confession is more powerful than 100 exorcisms.

Living by a rule of life can also help us to develop holy habits and to remain on the narrow path through difficult times when we may experience much confusion and doubt.

Prayer to Saint Catherine of Sweden (Saint Catherine of Vadstena):

Dear St. Catherine, patron of those who have suffered a miscarriage, you know the dangers that await unborn infants. Please intercede for me that I may receive healing from the loss I have suffered. My soul has been deprived of peace and I have forgotten what true happiness is. As I mourn the loss of my child, I place myself in the hands of God and ask for strength to accept His will in all things, for consolation in my grief, and for peace in my sorrow. Glorious St. Catherine, hear my prayers and ask that God, in good time, grant me a healthy baby who will become a true child of God. Amen. (National Catholic Register)