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I Am One In Fifty: When Pain Finds Purpose

I was catching up with someone I hadn’t seen in a while. We started talking about mental health, 2020, political landscapes, the dread of it all, and coping mechanisms.


Me: To be fully transparent, I also lost a baby last year in September. It was a ruptured ectopic. This September was really hard. My husband was surprised how much harder it hit me this year than when it actually happened. I guess I was just thankful to be alive then?

Him: Wow… my wife lost a baby in February for the first time after several healthy pregnancies; it was a shock but she seems very much okay. And I was just praying this morning for God to help me figure out a way to support her through the loss? Maybe a ceremony or naming the baby?

Me: hmmm. Maybe? I get her, though. I wonder if she’s just not prioritizing dealing with her grief? She has other children who are alive and they need her every second of every day. I would dare to assume she is putting the grief on the back burner. Don’t be surprised if, come February, she starts processing it. I fully believe that “the body keeps the score.” The flashbacks for me were surreal. I would be stuck in one single thought for hours without end. I don’t have any experience past the one-year mark but… for me, this September was brutally hard.

::insert more back-and-forth here::

Him: this conversation was an answered prayer. Thank you, Laura.


And we prayed together.

First, yay for great husbands who think of their wives’ mental health. I pray for more of them.

Second, I hate all the pain I went through. And I hate that I don’t have that baby in my arms. I loathe the trauma and the tears and the time wasted on them.

Lastly, I love God for giving purpose to the pain. If it can help answer someone’s prayer, then I’ll be okay with it.

My life seems to be like a psalm; it starts like

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, so far from my cries of anguish? My God, I cry out by day, but you do not answer, by night, but I find no rest….”

But then it goes like

“… he has not despised my cries of deep despair. He’s my first responder to my sufferings, and he didn’t look the other way when I was in pain. He was there all the time, listening to the song of the afflicted.”

Anyone else resonates with that thought?

Ectopic pregnancies happen to 1 in 50 women. And it’s traumatizing. Check out symptoms here.


Blog post by Laura Lucio---a web designer, wife, a mother and an ENTJ. Also a passion-driven Christian, and a social advocate. You can find her on social media at @llauramarta or @decusprima on all major social platforms.



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