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“I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil.” – J.R.R. Tolkien
What do you do when you realise your worst fears are now your reality?
Our scan was at 9am and I had intended to get into work for 10am. Instead we walked to our scan, saw our baby and then discovered that there was no heartbeat.

Before I knew it my wife and I were sat in a cold room, with plain walls, three chairs and a desk. One chair on one side of the desk, two chairs on the other side. We were waiting. I was not entirely sure what we were waiting for, but we had been told to wait. I had phoned my Dad, my mum, her Dad—and I was emotionally drained from that experience.
The next 30 minutes felt like days. There was a lot of talking, crying, asking questions, crying, hearing answers, crying and frustration… before we were sent home with some literature to read.

We had big decisions to make, including the prospect of surgery to remove our baby from my wife‘s womb. But once all that was over, we had to start dealing with our grief. We had to start that long journey towards normal. How do you start?
Well, we ordered Domino’s pizza.
I don’t think there is a right or a wrong way to deal with the immediate aftermath of disaster. But we lay in bed, ate pizza and watched a DVD boxset. I had a really bad headache and we both kept being sick, but we had entered survival mode. We just had to get through the day.
And the next day. And the next day. And the next day…
Looking back, I don’t remember a time it ever became easy. It certainly has become easier, although writing this blog series has been challenging and I have shed many tears.
"If there is one piece of advice we must all adopt, it is to run into the arms of our loving Saviour."
But during those early days, I was just surviving. But as time went on there were several strategies that we used, or that people shared with us, to help us deal with our grief. If you’re grieving a miscarriage at the moment, my hope is that some of these suggestions may help you.

1. Give the child a name

It was my Dad’s suggestion that we should give our child a name. During the medical appointments that followed the miscarriage there was a lot of medical speak. Words like “tissue” and “retained products of conception” were technical words, and they made us feel like we were being detached from our baby. Dad wanted us to recognise the humanity of our child by giving him or her a name.

We called our miscarried child Alex. Alex, because it was gender neutral and not a name we had any attachment to. We found this extremely helpful.
2. Write a letter

As soon as you know you’re pregnant, you bond with the little baby growing inside your partner. You start to think 9 months into the future, a year, 5 years. You have plans, dreams, fears and aspirations.
In one cruel moment all of that can be taken away. But that leaves so many unresolved feelings from hours of daydreaming about the future. So many words left unsaid, so much love left unexpressed. That can be unbelievably difficult.



The NHS booklet on dealing with a miscarriage suggested that we write a letter for our unborn child and bury it. I considered doing this several times in the immediate aftermath of the miscarriage, but I found it extremely difficult to verbalise those emotions in the early days. It wasn’t until much later that I managed to pick up my pen and write.
3. Embrace your church family

God knew what he was doing when he placed us within a church. It is vital that every Christian is involved in a good local church, because when disaster strikes, they are there for you. Don’t be afraid to tell them what you’re going through. So many people came out of the woodwork to share their stories and experiences with us. We received multiple emails, hugs, phone calls and invites for dinner. It was a real blessing.
4. Get away if needed

After surgery my wife needed time to recover physically as well as emotionally, but soon I had to return to work. My mum had come down to stay, and then took my wife away for a week to their home in North Yorkshire. This break was really important for my wife’s physical and emotional healing. It meant that my parents and sister were around during the daytime to support her in ways I wasn’t able to when I was back at work.
5. Most essential… talk to God

Talk with God. We have a heavenly Father who gave his own son to save a people who had no interest in him. And we have a great Saviour:


"For we do not have a high priest who is unable to feel sympathy for our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are – yet he did not sin." (Hebrews 4 v 15)
I wrote this blog to share our experiences for the benefit of men suffering in silence through a very difficult loss. But if there is one piece of advice we must all adopt, it is to run into the arms of our loving Saviour. He is the healer of the broken-hearted. He is the Sovereign Ruler over every loss. He is our risen Saviour bringing us home to glory.
Run to him.
Read the rest of the Men and Miscarriage series:
Jason Ramsey lives in Lincoln, has been married to his wife Katherine Ramsey for 2 years and they have one daughter, Emily. Jason works within the customer service environment for his local water company and serves the Lord as a member of TCM Baptist Church.
