I had another shift at the Emergency Centre on Sunday PM, and for the first time in my career I saw first-hand what a miscarriage really means for the family.
In films it’s overdramatised, and everyone looks glamorous with a single tear rolling down their face.
When taking history from patients, they might mention having a miscarriage a few years ago with nothing more than a slight pause before moving on, time slowly working through the scars.
But during the moment. There is nothing so raw as the woman’s grief. The man who doesn’t quite know what to do with his hands as she cries out from contractile pain. The nursing staff trying to maintain their composure and the doctor- the doctor processing the entirety of the bio-psycho-social model of health and it’s relevance to the patient at hand, running through the procedures and ensuring the patient has adequate analgesia.
Like everything, this place of life and birth and celebration is tinged with the scar of hurt and separation.
‘He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death’ or mourning or crying or pain, for the old order of things has passed away.”
Revelation 21:4 (NIV)