Why I Stopped Blaming God: A Catholic Mother's Story of Loss and Hope

Meg suffered her miscarriage in silence for a whole year, until God broke through, bringing healing and new life.

(Photo: Lightstock)

By Meg Stout

A little over ten years ago, I experienced a lot of life in a matter of a few days. After months of interviews and paperwork, while enduring a pregnancy that had me feeling sick, my husband and I traveled to Ukraine to adopt a little boy. We had our first meeting with the government to officially request Sergiy’s adoption file, and were due back the next day to pick up the paperwork. Then we could travel to his city and meet him. We went to bed with anticipation that in two days we would hold Sergiy, who would soon become our son. 

I woke early in the morning, not with pain, but with an intuition that had me concerned. I turned to my husband and told him I was worried I was going to lose the baby (we were about 13 weeks along). Not five minutes later, my intuition proved right — very quickly and dramatically, I was miscarrying. I ended up in a hospital for surgery.

The next day, I was in a car driving across Ukraine to Sergiy’s orphanage. We met him, said we would adopt him, and then had several days of visits. A second overseas trip for a court hearing came a few weeks later. Soon, our newly minted American, Paul Sergiy, was home, and busyness set in as we worked through attachment and a host of medical issues.

And I didn’t talk about the baby we lost for over a year.

I occasionally thought of him and what happened, but I just didn’t speak about it with anyone, not even God. I chose distraction and numbness over the pain of feeling and the vulnerability of sharing. That was a mistake. When we refuse to face our suffering, it doesn’t just go away; it often manifests in disordered ways that can destroy marriages, families and other relationships, including the one you have with God. How many people blame God and even leave the Church because of the hardship they experience?

Ignoring our hurt just means we suffer through it alone. I learned that instead of distracting or denying, I needed to take moments to really feel and then to lean into Jesus Christ, who himself suffered infinitely more than I had or ever will. 

We must have a foundation in the Truth, so that when hardship comes (and it will), we will be like the house built on rock in Matthew 7, able to withstand the flood and the wind. 

Here is the truth: God did not create evil. God is not the cause of our pain and suffering. That is the result of sin, which entered the world through man’s free will. We exist in a world that is terribly broken. 

But this is also true: God sent his only Son to suffer and to die so that we, and all of creation, can be made new. The suffering and death of Jesus Christ is the worst evil ever to occur, but the greatest good — the Resurrection happened because of it. Not only are we now reconciled to God and able to spend eternity with him, but Heaven has kissed Earth, and a new creation has begun. 

God’s goodness is so vast that every suffering can be transformed, and good can come from it. I love the story of Joseph in Genesis. His brothers resented him and betrayed him, selling him into slavery in Egypt. But he rose to prominence when he interpreted dreams, even doing so for the Pharaoh. He predicted a famine, and the Pharaoh prepared for it, saving many lives. Joseph’s brothers then came begging for food, not knowing they were begging their own brother. Joseph reveals all that happened and forgives them, saying that what they meant for evil, God meant for good (Genesis 50:20). 

In the lectionary, Psalm 69 exhorts us: Turn to the Lord in your need, and you will live. When we experience suffering, the best thing we can do is to draw close to Jesus and allow him to bring about new life. 

My struggle was this: I knew it wasn’t God who made me lose my baby, but I clung to the thought that this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. While that’s true, it’s not a fruitful way to engage with suffering. I needed to be more receptive, and that is really difficult. It requires trust that God’s goodness is so vast that whatever happens in life — even a grave evil like when Joseph was sold into slavery — can be caught up in it and made good. Personally, praying with Romans 8:28 helped: “We know that all things work for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose.” In my later three miscarriages, I still experienced grief, but when I let Jesus be close and gave him my broken heart, there was enduring peace and even joy, as his goodness embraced me. As I healed, I trusted more, and my love of God deepened.

Suffering will come to all of us. We can try to go it alone. We can even leave Christ and his Church behind. Or we can receive Jesus as he draws near and let him transform us, giving us new life from the most unexpected place.