It’s interesting how when you suffer from a miscarriage, you immediately want to keep it to yourself. And the people around you who know, want to keep it on the hush too.

I wondered about that kind of reactive behaviour. Perhaps, it’s because a miscarriage is a very personal and a private experience.

But I realised the deeper reasons for me were guilt and shame. When the miscarriages happened, the first things I said to myself were:

The guilt and condemnation worsened when well-meaning friends (whom I appreciate a lot in every way) tried to comfort me, saying things like: “You haven’t been taking care of yourself enough”, “You have been over exerting your body” and “You haven’t been eating enough vitamins”.

I wished that were all true — then I would know what could have been done to prevent the miscarriages!

But unfortunately, the doctor said my miscarriages were random occurrences that could not be explained because I have two children already.

That made me think: perhaps, God doesn’t want me to have any more children.

During the first six months after the miscarriage, I rested and pondered, pondered and rested, meditating over this simple verse we usually learn when we become a new believer:

That helped me to acknowledge that I didn’t cause the miscarriages — and certainly God didn’t.

Then, one Sunday morning, I heard Pastor Charles Nieman speak about the passing of his wife and how he had been coping. He shared about a verse that we are all too familiar with:

“I am the Alpha and the Omega, says the Lord God, who is and who was, and how is to come, the Almighty.” (Revelation 1:8)

That encouraged me.


But within six months, I had another miscarriage. My regular gynaecologist was away on holiday and I saw the covering doctor instead.

There were already signs of miscarriage so it was not a sudden discovery. And since it happened just right after the first, I felt a little resigned to the situation but nonetheless still sad.

But something hit me hard. The closing words of the covering doctor were: “You already have two children, so don’t feel so sad about it okay?”

I left the clinic with those words in my head. The next few days, I started telling myself I didn’t deserve to feel sad and that I already have two children.

I felt that by feeling sad, I was being insensitive to the struggles of childless couples.

Also, I felt I was doing my children a disservice. There’s no time to grieve. I’ve got to care for my children, I’ve got to be there for them.

But choosing not to grieve was the worst. I started watching Korean dramas to distract myself. It was a terrible passive activity that had no healing effect whatsoever. I started to have feelings of bitterness and envy. I decided I had to put a stop to it.


So I started to doodle and paint in the mornings when I was alone at home.

Initially, I felt that I was being lazy. Doodling and painting has no economical or tangible benefits! I should be going out to find more work, to do something constructive, cook more, prepare more activities for the children and so on.

But the ever-so-encouraging husband told me that I needed to do it to find rest and then gain strength for the day.

So I started painting. And as I painted, I starting grieving and the process of healing began.

Painting helped me to calm down and focus on the word of God.

It took away the focus from myself, my anger and my sadness. When I painted, all my negative thoughts and emotions just fade away.

Painting was also my act of worship to God and it helped me to meditate on His word.

During one morning while I was painting, I came upon this verse in Psalm 18:28: “You light a lamp for me. The Lord, my God, lights up my darkness”.

Besides feeling a lot of guilt and condemnation, I was actually really envious and jealous of other mothers.

I couldn’t even look at other people’s babies and also started isolating myself from friends who were pregnant or had just given birth.

It was difficult to find joy in parenting my two children too. This was the darkness I was living in — sadness and bitterness and envy.

But Psalm 18:28 reminded me to always focus on God. Every time I felt negative emotions and felt like I was slipping into that darkness again, I knew I couldn’t wallow in them.

I had to go to God and return to His Word.

I don’t have to feel guilty for feeling sad. I need to grieve to heal.

And this light, which was God’s words to me, always took the focus away from myself — all the feelings of sadness, bitterness and envy — and helped me to focus on Him instead.

The more I painted, the more I started to envision the darkness fleeing from the light that was gradually coming in through God’s Word.

And I realised that I don’t have to feel guilty for feeling sad. I need to grieve to heal.


It has been six years since I had that revelation. And the interesting thing is that you would think that when I finally had my rainbow child, I would be totally happy and healed!

Actually, that was not the case. I still struggled with envy and thoughts about my miscarriages like: “Oh, if only I didn’t miscarry, my child would be the same age as your child.”

My rainbow baby is now four years old.

But I’m sometimes afraid I’ll forget that I had five pregnancies. I’m afraid that I’ll forget my two other babies and feel like I’m a lousy mother all over again.

But every year, I remember and think about them, and I remember the pain of losing them.

But that feeling of pain is different now. It no longer has a hold on me, for I hold on to the truth of His Word:

“Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart” (Jeremiah 1:5)

Jesus is in my beginnings and endings. He was there during the conception, He was there during the miscarriage. He was in it and with me through it all.

He remembers my children too, as He knew them even before He formed them in my womb. He remembers my pain of losing them and He has bore that pain on the cross so that I do not have to bear it each time I remember them.

Jesus bore all my guilt and shame on the cross. His death has made me righteous. I know I am His beloved child. He loves me, and there is nothing I can do or not do to earn His love.

In this case, losing the babies did not make me a lousy mother and cause Jesus to love me less. Not even if I had managed to “save” the babies would make Him love me more.

Therefore there is now no condemnation, no guilt and no shame.

My hope is not in my striving or hard work. My hope is in Jesus.

I feel a great burden lifted off knowing that I can rest in Him, and that all things will work out for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose.

I know He has a plan for me. A good plan. A plan that is full of hope.

He is in my new beginnings, and He is in my endings no matter what experiences they are. And therefore I have hope because my hope is in Jesus.

My encouragement for mums who have lost a child: No matter what you’re going through, whether you think it’s a big or small issue, take the time to rest in His Word.

Take the time to grieve, and He will light up your darkness and heal your wounds.

You can keep up with the author, Rebecca, on her blog and Instagram account where she art-journals Bible verses. Her friend has also started an Instagram account to support mothers who have had miscarriages.

  1. What does God say about children in the Bible? What does God say about mothers in the Bible?
  2. Think of a mum who may be facing a difficult time.
  3. Reach out this week and see if you can do one practical thing for her as a blessing. 🙂