Experiencing Miscarriage as an Expat Missionary
My expectations came crashing down when our sacred space was violated and took on an unexpected tone of trauma, grief and shame.
I sat on the frigid, white-tiled bathroom floor, cradled in my husband’s arms as I wept and bled. We had arrived early at this remote hilltop resort to set up a few things up for our annual conference. Moments before we were expected to go out and greet everyone, I lost the baby we were expecting. I walked out of the bathroom into the cold, heatless room and stared at the white sheets on the hotel bed. I wanted to be anywhere but at the hotel, surrounded by people. Having just finished our year and a half language program, we…
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Thank you, Gwen, for your honesty and vulnerability. As you mentioned in the article, the feeling of loss is a…