“I’m bleeding,” I wrote in my journal six years ago. Those two simple words carried with them a world of pain and sadness. I wasn’t writing about a cut on my hand. No, this was a wound that wouldn’t heal so quickly or neatly. You see, I was pregnant. Well, at least I had been pregnant. I wasn’t really sure what to say anymore since the bleeding had started. This wasn’t just a bit of spotting, either. I knew right away what was happening, but I couldn’t even bear to write the word: miscarriage. Continue reading “Ministering to Miscarriage”