Wound: noun
an injury to living tissue caused by a cut, blow, or other impact, typically one in which the skin is cut or broken.
When we are injured by something that occurs in our life, it causes our heart to be cut or broken, creating a wound. Once we are injured, a wound is formed. Over time, the wounds turn into a scab and eventually the skin heals but still there is a scar, and then there is evidence that you have been wounded….
Do all wounds heal and become scars? Or do the really deep wounds remain open... and every now and then, salt is added, creating an even deeper wound. Can a wound be healed but still remain open? Healing from the injury, but when your injury is asked about, does that scab rip off immediately, add some salt, and cut even deeper.
When I miscarried, I never thought I’d get through it. My days were a blur, but yet I remember every single detail. I remember the physical pain, I remember the moments bleeding out, and I remember the sound of my cry. I remember the feeling of my husband’s tears falling on my skin. People around me were invisible and life was the hardest I’ve ever known it to be. I was wounded. A deep cut to my heart. Suffering from an injury that you never fully recover from.
The early morning I miscarried, all we knew to do was go to the hospital. We were in denial of what was happening and believed for a miracle. We wanted to be that one couple that doctors had told they miscarried, but our baby would be born full term. Well, that wasn’t us. As we were handed discharge papers, my emotionless doctor told me I was miscarrying, adding salt to my fresh wound. Not one single emotion. Sadly, I wasn’t even worth his eye contact and I definitely wasn’t worth his time of day. One thing I learned is that you never forget the face of the person who tells you the worst news you’d ever receive. Their face stays with you and becomes a well-known face, all because of the bad news they delivered, but mainly because of how they delivered it.
I do believe God healed my heart from my miscarriage, but I also believe the wound is still open. The scab rips off every time the word “miscarriage” is said around me. More and more salt is added every time someone asks me “Hey, I had another friend that miscarried and I want to get a gift — what “gift” helped you? Any book you can recommend?” Fresh wound all over again. Scab rips right off, salt is added, and the wound goes even deeper. As if I’m a miscarriage expert and as if a book, floral arrangement, or “gift” will heal the wound of losing your child in your safe warm womb without any explanation as to why it happened. Open wound.
And pregnancy after miscarriage doesn’t mean that everything is smooth sailing. It’s actually the exact opposite. It’s terrifying. Especially because you’ve already experienced the worst, you’re fearful of the same pain all over again. The worst feeling is the guilt. Guilt that I now have two beautiful healthy babies that I love so much it hurts and I never got the chance to love my first baby in the same way. Guilt that I wasn’t able to carry them full term, that I wasn’t able to hold them, and I wasn’t able to give them everything that my heart longed to give them. And I hate that I’m fearful of judgment from others thinking I’m ungrateful because I now have Mason & Tristan. But if I’m being completely honest, my heart still aches so badly for the baby I once held in my womb and lost so suddenly.
Some wounds remain open. Some take longer to finally scab and eventually scar. No one can tell you to “get over it,” or to “just move on.” Each person has a grieving process, but just because you grieve and time has passed, doesn’t mean your wound isn’t still open.
Wounds are reminders of what we’ve been through, but never been through alone. We’ve been wounded, scabbed, and eventually scarred, but have we gone through each stage alone? We’re never alone, nor do we have to feel alone. And even when you feel alone, you’re not. Over 2 years after I miscarried, my wound is still open. That’s the beauty of it all. Wounds keep our hearts on high alert; to hug those around us a little bit tighter, to be generous with how we treat others, and to cherish the simplicity of life. Our wounds not only are proof of the injuries that we’ve suffered, but also, injuries that we’ve survived. Injuries that I only survived simply because of a Savior who loved me enough to rush by my side when I was hurt, and carry me with my open wound through that dark place in my life where I didn’t see any light. He looked at my wounds, saw my injuries and said, “I brought you from the ends of the earth and called you from its farthest corners. I said to you: You are My servant; I have chosen you and not rejected you. Do not fear, for I am with you; do not be afraid, for I am your God. I will strengthen you; I will help you; I will hold on to you with My righteous hand.” (Isaiah 41:9-10)
These wounds are living proof that there is a God much bigger than the pain I face. Proof of a God who cares so much for me that He won’t throw me away or reject me, but He will hold me with His righteous hand. These wounds make me who I am.