Lament

What is a miscarriage?

It is the loss of a pregnancy, typically before 24 weeks. A miscarriage is marked by unmet expectations; hope unfulfilled.

I’m sorry that you or someone you know has experienced a miscarriage. Loss, when you’ve never had the chance to meet your expectation, is devastating. I know it.

Today’s passage in Lamentations 3 is not the most 'exciting' or 'encouraging' by fleshly standards, but it is REAL. Please read it in a version of your choice and in the Contemporary English Version (CEV).

This passage encourages us to sit with our disappointment and lament. Cry out to God. Be real with Him about how you are feeling. Be real with Him about feeling as though He has neglected you, even though we know it is not true.

After my second miscarriage, I wrote my own poem of lament. I felt as though I couldn’t pray orally, but writing has always been a vehicle for identifying my feelings, mapping out my thoughts, and kickstarting my healing journey. I encourage you, as we start this devotional, to write your own poem of lament. Read mine below for a bit of inspiration.

Poem/Psalm of Lament — Miscarriage

O Lord, my heart is shattered, my spirit crushed.
There are no words to express the depth of my sorrow.
My hope, cut down before its time.

I cling to Your strength, yet doubt overwhelms me.
Fear whispers that Your hand will not hold me.
My pain runs deeper than the loss of a child… now plural… children.
It is the repeated severing of expectations, as though joy is asleep.

But You, O Lord, never slumber nor sleep.
You promise restoration.
A child who will remain, whole and complete, in Your perfect time.
You will do it.
No glory will be shared.

Even before the wound, You prepared healing.
Your stripes, my refuge in the wilderness of grief.

I am nothing without You.
Guide my steps, O God; align my heart with Yours.
I am weary from trauma and trials, yet know the wilderness refines,
empties me of self,
leaving only You.

Forgive my striving, my lack of trust, my deafness to Your gentle voice.
Even in this bleeding, this physical reminder, I search for Your presence,
Your loving embrace.

In all things, I give thanks… not for this pain, but for Your unfailing love.
Salvation is a gift, yet the anointing is costly.
To be evidence of great faith requires great sacrifice—my first and now second fruit.

The oil from the pressing, surrendered at Your feet.
Relinquishing control like oil that has been poured out,
flowing freely toward Your will alone.

Forgive my prior silence, my wounded heart’s retreat.
I am learning to find my voice again in You.
Lead me through the stages of grief, O Lord—
from denial and anger to acceptance and peace.

Though my faith falters, Your promises remain,
Your wisdom far surpasses my understanding.
Dry my tears, O God, remove despair,
Fill me with hope and unwavering trust again.

Thank You for the love of my mother,
her comfort and support in this painful time.
For my husband, a steadfast rock,
his tender care and his shared sorrow.
For the outpouring of love from friends,
their prayers a lifeline in my despair.

Like sunflowers turning toward the sun,
may I always seek the face of Your Son, Jesus,
Your radiant light.
In this season of sorrow, hold me close.
Carry me on the wings of Your unfailing love.
Amen.