麻豆社

Good morning.

Two weeks ago I sat with a dear friend who had recently experienced the trauma of a late miscarriage.

In those moments, it鈥檚 impossible to find the words that might in any way soothe the visceral grief that comes when such great hope becomes utmost despair.

Those who have experienced baby loss speak of the emptiness that follows, after months of waiting in expectation, growing and bonding with a baby and dreaming of what they might become.

I can鈥檛 imagine the pain.

Nine stillbirths happen every day 鈥� one in every 225 births. Mothering Sunday this weekend will be extremely painful for some mothers without their babies.

This week the government announced that coroners in England and Wales may be given new powers to investigate stillbirths. This move is designed to prevent more baby deaths and help bereaved parents gain answers to what went wrong.

Some years ago, when working as a local newspaper reporter, I occasionally attended inquests and saw up close the pain of bereaved families having to relive their loved one鈥檚 deaths. While some saw it as a necessary part of getting justice and closure 鈥� for others, it did nothing more than open up old wounds.

The quest to get answers is a very human instinct 鈥� a way to regain some semblance of control, to work out what went wrong or ask God why he could let such terrible things happen.

Answers help us to make sense of the world.

But many of those who have suffered stillbirth or neonatal death find solace not in answers to scientific questions but in community 鈥� in the ability to be able to speak about what they have gone through and to know that they are not alone.

At times of great suffering, religious believers can turn to trite words in a well-meaning attempt to make things better. But phrases such as 鈥楪od works in mysterious ways鈥� or 鈥楪od won鈥檛 give you more than you can handle鈥� just don鈥檛 cut it.

Sitting with my friend who had suffered a miscarriage at her hour of greatest need, my place wasn鈥檛 to provide answers or give platitudes but to weep with her.

In my experience, the Christian faith is profound because it doesn鈥檛 suggest God promises life will be perfect.

God himself is no stranger to deep pain; the incarnate Christ cried in anguish at the crucifixion: 鈥淢y God, my God, why have you forsaken me?鈥�

I take solace in the belief that it is right in the middle of the most painful times that I need God the most.

C S Lewis 鈥� a writer and theologian who himself experienced tragedy - wrote: 鈥淕od whispers to us in our pleasures, speaks in our conscience, but shouts in our pains.鈥�

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