My Miscarriage Defines Me

Written by: Shekea M.

We were excitedly preparing for the arrival of the newest addition to Team Moreno—praying, researching minivans, and reading books about siblings with our daughter—when the unexpected happened. Just weeks after learning about and sharing the news, I was sitting in the emergency room, facing tragedy.  

On the drive home from the hospital, my husband asked how I was feeling. Since our daughter was so young, and was therefore not allowed inside of the emergency room, I was seen by and conversed with doctors alone. While she and my husband entertained themselves in the waiting room, he had no idea what was transpiring; no awareness of the diagnosis; and no clue of how to relate to me at the time.

His question was immediately answered with an outpouring of tears. "I do not want her to see me cry" was the only audible I could muster at the time, so the remainder of the ride home was done in silence.

Soon after returning home, our miscarriage began and ended. In a matter of just about two hours, it seemed that our hope-filled dreams of a larger family were silenced and consumed by the pain I felt physically and we, emotionally. No matter how much we wanted it; no matter how much we'd prayed for it and through it, the pregnancy was over.

My husband and I cried—a lot. I, personally, interrogated God in the moments of our miscarriage: “Why this? Why us? Why me?” And, with such clarity, he replied: “The why is all about the responsibility.”

I realized from that juncture, that I could allow my miscarriage to define me—shaping a critical part of my testimony and fashioning the ways I walk out my days. Ushering me to appreciating a woman’s body—my body—and how I see and love on my family; growing my relationship with the intentional, timely, and sovereign Creator of all things; and enriching how I get to relate to, empathize with, and encourage women who sit in the same seat.

Every single thing about losing a child—at any phase or age—is awful and hard. The now is sometimes awful and hard, too. But, what a comfort and a friend we have in Jesus.

In the worst of things, he can teach us the best of things and his love can show up in the best of ways. May we experience him not just in, but through to the other side of the ache. May we disallow our loss to be in vain. Girlfriend, let’s walk in the burden that is light—living shame-free, in peace, with thanksgiving, and dealing this hope to our sisters in the same need.

His timing is everything. Shortly after we miscarried, we conceived and received the gift of the sweetest rainbow baby. Without the tragedy, this exact girl of mine would not be, and she would not have had such a deeply grateful mommy and daddy.

If you need any support or encouragement, please feel free to reach out to me.

Instagram: @shekeamoreno



Written by Julie Khaled

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