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What God Is Honored Here?: Writings on Miscarriage and Infant Loss by and for Native Women and Women of Color
Native women and women of color poignantly share their pain, revelations, and hope after experiencing the traumas of miscarriage and infant loss
What God Is Honored Here? is the first book of its kind—and urgently necessary. This is a literary collection of voices of Indigenous women and women of color who have undergone miscarriage and infant loss, experiences that disproportionately affect women who have often been cast toward the margins in the United States of America.
From the story of dashed cultural expectations in an interracial marriage to poems that speak of loss across generations, from harrowing accounts of misdiagnoses, ectopic pregnancies, and late-term stillbirths to the poignant chronicles of miscarriages and mysterious infant deaths, What God Is Honored Here? brings women together to speak to one another about the traumas and tragedies of womanhood. In its heartbreaking beauty, this book offers an integral perspective on how culture and religion, spirit and body, unite in the reproductive lives of women of color and Indigenous women as they bear witness to loss, search for what is not there, and claim for themselves and others their fundamental humanity. Powerfully and with brutal honesty, they write about what it means to reclaim life in the face of death.
Editors Shannon Gibney and Kao Kalia Yang acknowledge “who we had been could not have prepared us for who we would become in the wake of these words,” yet the writings collected here offer insight, comfort, and, finally, hope for all those who, like the women gathered here, have found grief a lonely place.
Contributors: Jennifer Baker, Michelle Borok, Lucille Clifton, Sidney Clifton, Taiyon J. Coleman, Arfah Daud, Rona Fernandez, Sarah Agaton Howes, Honorée Fanonne Jeffers, Soniah Kamal, Diana Le-Cabrera, Janet Lee-Ortiz, Maria Elena Mahler, Chue Moua, Jami Nakamura Lin, Jen Palmares Meadows, Dania Rajendra, Marcie Rendon, Seema Reza, 신 선 영 Sun Yung Shin, Kari Smalkoski, Catherine R. Squires, Elsa Valmidiano.
256 pages, Kindle Edition
Published October 15, 2019
27 people are currently reading
1009 people want to read
About the author
Shannon Gibney
23 books116 followersShannon Gibney was born in 1975, in Ann Arbor, Michigan. She was adopted by Jim and Sue Gibney about five months later, and grew up with her two (biological) brothers, Jon and Ben.
Shannon has loved to read and to write as far back as she can remember. When she was in second grade, she started making “books” about her family’s camping trips, and later graduated to a series on three sibling detectives in fourth grade.When she was 15, her father gave her James Baldwin’s Tell Me How Long the Train’s Been Gone, a book that changed her life and made her see the possibilities of the written word. The novel took a long, difficult look at relations between Blacks and Whites, the poor and the rich, gay and straight people, and fused searing honesty with metaphorical beauty. After this experience, Shannon knew that she needed to read everything Baldwin had ever written, and also that she wanted to emulate his strategy of telling the most dangerous, and therefore liberating kind of truth, through writing.
High school was a time for tremendous growth for Shannon, as she had the opportunity to attend Community High, a place that nurtured independence and creativity. At Carnegie Mellon University, Shannon majored in Creative Writing and Spanish, graduating with highest honors in 1997. She was awarded their Alumni Study/Travel Award, and used it to travel to Ghana to collect information for a short story collection on relationships between African Americans and continental Africans.
At Indiana University’s Graduate Creative Writing Program, Shannon honed her understanding of the basic elements of story-writing. She was in Bloomington from 1999 to 2002, and earned an M.A. in 20th Century African American Literature, as well as her M.F.A. while she was there. As Indiana Review editor, she conceived of the literary journal’s first “Writers of Color” special issue, and brought it to fruition, also in 2002.
Shannon has called Minneapolis home since 2002. She moved there right after completing her graduate work at Indiana, and took a job at the Minnesota Spokesman-Recorder, the state’s oldest Black newspaper. A three-year stint as managing editor of this 75-year-old publication introduced Shannon to the vibrant, growing, and diverse Black community in the Twin Cities, and also gave her vital insight into the inner-workings of a weekly newspaper. When she left in 2005, Shannon had written well over 100 news and features stories for the paper.
The Bush Artist Fellows Program took Shannon’s daily life in a new direction. In 2005, she was awarded a grant, which allowed her to quit her job at the Spokesman, and devote most of her time to her creative work.
After completing her Bush fellowhip in summer 2007, Shannon joined the faculty in English at Minneapolis Community and Technical College (MCTC) in the fall, and became Full-Time Unlimited (FTU) faculty there in 2009. She lives with her son Boisey, and daughter Marwein, in the Powderhorn neighborhood of South Minneapolis.
Shannon’s Young Adult (YA) novel SEE NO COLOR was published by Carolrhoda Lab, a division of Lerner Publications, in November, 2015, and subsequently won a 2016 Minnesota Book Award in the category of Literature for Young Adults. She was also awarded a $25,000 2015 McKnight Artist Fellowship for Writers, administered by the Loft Literary Center. She used the funds to support work on a family memoir, tentatively titled Love Across the Middle Passage: Making an African/African American Family.
Other publications this year include a short story in the Sky Blue Water anthology of children’s literature from Minnesota writers, the opening essay in the critically-acclaimed and popular A Good Time for the Truth: Race in Minnesota anthology, edited by Sun Yung Shin. The Star Tribune published an excerpt of Shannon’s essay “Fear of a Black Mother,” which you can read here.
In 2017, look for Shannon’s short story “Salvation,” in Eric Smith’s new anthology of adoption-
Shannon has loved to read and to write as far back as she can remember. When she was in second grade, she started making “books” about her family’s camping trips, and later graduated to a series on three sibling detectives in fourth grade.When she was 15, her father gave her James Baldwin’s Tell Me How Long the Train’s Been Gone, a book that changed her life and made her see the possibilities of the written word. The novel took a long, difficult look at relations between Blacks and Whites, the poor and the rich, gay and straight people, and fused searing honesty with metaphorical beauty. After this experience, Shannon knew that she needed to read everything Baldwin had ever written, and also that she wanted to emulate his strategy of telling the most dangerous, and therefore liberating kind of truth, through writing.
High school was a time for tremendous growth for Shannon, as she had the opportunity to attend Community High, a place that nurtured independence and creativity. At Carnegie Mellon University, Shannon majored in Creative Writing and Spanish, graduating with highest honors in 1997. She was awarded their Alumni Study/Travel Award, and used it to travel to Ghana to collect information for a short story collection on relationships between African Americans and continental Africans.
At Indiana University’s Graduate Creative Writing Program, Shannon honed her understanding of the basic elements of story-writing. She was in Bloomington from 1999 to 2002, and earned an M.A. in 20th Century African American Literature, as well as her M.F.A. while she was there. As Indiana Review editor, she conceived of the literary journal’s first “Writers of Color” special issue, and brought it to fruition, also in 2002.
Shannon has called Minneapolis home since 2002. She moved there right after completing her graduate work at Indiana, and took a job at the Minnesota Spokesman-Recorder, the state’s oldest Black newspaper. A three-year stint as managing editor of this 75-year-old publication introduced Shannon to the vibrant, growing, and diverse Black community in the Twin Cities, and also gave her vital insight into the inner-workings of a weekly newspaper. When she left in 2005, Shannon had written well over 100 news and features stories for the paper.
The Bush Artist Fellows Program took Shannon’s daily life in a new direction. In 2005, she was awarded a grant, which allowed her to quit her job at the Spokesman, and devote most of her time to her creative work.
After completing her Bush fellowhip in summer 2007, Shannon joined the faculty in English at Minneapolis Community and Technical College (MCTC) in the fall, and became Full-Time Unlimited (FTU) faculty there in 2009. She lives with her son Boisey, and daughter Marwein, in the Powderhorn neighborhood of South Minneapolis.
Shannon’s Young Adult (YA) novel SEE NO COLOR was published by Carolrhoda Lab, a division of Lerner Publications, in November, 2015, and subsequently won a 2016 Minnesota Book Award in the category of Literature for Young Adults. She was also awarded a $25,000 2015 McKnight Artist Fellowship for Writers, administered by the Loft Literary Center. She used the funds to support work on a family memoir, tentatively titled Love Across the Middle Passage: Making an African/African American Family.
Other publications this year include a short story in the Sky Blue Water anthology of children’s literature from Minnesota writers, the opening essay in the critically-acclaimed and popular A Good Time for the Truth: Race in Minnesota anthology, edited by Sun Yung Shin. The Star Tribune published an excerpt of Shannon’s essay “Fear of a Black Mother,” which you can read here.
In 2017, look for Shannon’s short story “Salvation,” in Eric Smith’s new anthology of adoption-
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Displaying 1 - 28 of 28 reviews
October 9, 2019
As a white transgender man, I'm pretty far from the target audience of this. That being said, I still felt very affected by this work. I believe that everyone should seek out or be exposed to different perspectives, and I think this collection of writings was highly effective in making me put myself in the shoes of a non-white woman suffering through the loss of a baby.
The format was highly readable, where different writers took turns pouring their pain into short narratives or, at times, poems. The writer bios at the end of the book were very helpful. The cover is gorgeous. The title is amazing, being the main reason I requested this ARC.
Most importantly, of course, the stories themselves were so brilliantly written that I was moved throughout. I can't imagine the actual pain and grief that these women and women like them go through in times like these, but these narratives were written in a way that allowed me to try. I still can't imagine how challenging it is to go through our healthcare system as a woman of color and, beyond that, I can't imagine having a miscarriage or losing a child and I hope I never experience it. On a different note, I did learn a lot about the process of childbirth and pregnancy that I had never heard before. I'm sure that's a negligible side effect of the writings, but I'm also glad to have read it for that.
I can't imagine why anyone would still need reasons to pick up this book, but remember that there is power in at least trying to understand the perspectives and struggles of others. If you are a woman of color or native woman who has had a miscarriage, this book was literally written and titled for you. Many of the book's writers felt they were on an island of suffering because they had trouble finding women like them who had gone through similar struggles of miscarriage or infant loss. There was at least one mention of how some white women will blog and take one day to share the story of a miscarriage and, on the next day, get back to blogging about home renovation and how these writers can't relate to that on a number of levels. Through this book, they hope to bring a sense of community to other women who struggle with these same things, and I hope this book will be that comfort and community for those women.
The format was highly readable, where different writers took turns pouring their pain into short narratives or, at times, poems. The writer bios at the end of the book were very helpful. The cover is gorgeous. The title is amazing, being the main reason I requested this ARC.
Most importantly, of course, the stories themselves were so brilliantly written that I was moved throughout. I can't imagine the actual pain and grief that these women and women like them go through in times like these, but these narratives were written in a way that allowed me to try. I still can't imagine how challenging it is to go through our healthcare system as a woman of color and, beyond that, I can't imagine having a miscarriage or losing a child and I hope I never experience it. On a different note, I did learn a lot about the process of childbirth and pregnancy that I had never heard before. I'm sure that's a negligible side effect of the writings, but I'm also glad to have read it for that.
I can't imagine why anyone would still need reasons to pick up this book, but remember that there is power in at least trying to understand the perspectives and struggles of others. If you are a woman of color or native woman who has had a miscarriage, this book was literally written and titled for you. Many of the book's writers felt they were on an island of suffering because they had trouble finding women like them who had gone through similar struggles of miscarriage or infant loss. There was at least one mention of how some white women will blog and take one day to share the story of a miscarriage and, on the next day, get back to blogging about home renovation and how these writers can't relate to that on a number of levels. Through this book, they hope to bring a sense of community to other women who struggle with these same things, and I hope this book will be that comfort and community for those women.
May 18, 2022
This has been on my shelf since September. I’ve been worrying about infertility all my life because my mom always talked about how difficult it was to get (stay) pregnant and they thought I was dead and she had 2 miscarriages before me. I want to mentally prepare myself for a long road. But I also superstitiously worry reading this will jinx me. Then I worried that given that I haven’t personally experienced this, it won’t resonate and I should read it when I need comfort and guidance. But why am I assuming I’m for sure going to go through this? I decided that now with the Roe V Wade news it was as good a time as ever to read it. I feel incapable of accurately capturing the feeling of reading this book because it was just so wrenching.
The stories in this collection were all very different and from all kinds of people and yet all exactly the same. I don’t mean that as a criticism at all. Usually when I read an essay or short story collection I read it over a long period of time, only reading one piece per day so that I don’t jumble everything together in my mind. I meant to do that here, but I could not stop reading. I would just be crying during my lunch break every day. Reading them all at once made it feel like a cacophony of voices in a way that was beautiful.
Of course I teared up whenever there was a traumatic dead baby scene or the moment when the tech tells them there’s no heartbeat, but what really got to me emotionally was thinking about how these stories would end if they couldn’t safely access a D & C. I am someone who has always been staunchly pro abortion in a political and legal sense, but I’ve always been personally rather squeamish about it and it took me a long time to work through that. I think pro life people should read this. “I don’t want a baby” is as good as any reason to get an abortion, but I think reading this might help people understand how important abortions are as healthcare in situations they might not even imagine. What would happen to the woman who had a blighted egg and there was no baby or fetus whatsoever but there was still a placenta & all other markers of pregnancy? All the ectopic pregnancies? I kept crying thinking that in some states even the miscarriages could be criminalized. Real Spiraling Hours
I never really thought about the fact that it’s still painful to experience infertility when you’ve already had a child. This had just never occurred to me. New worry alert. Some people really grieve not having a boy or girl specifically. This book was full of horrors and grief I never even considered.
There was a breadth of experiences here, from various cultures & races to different religions. It was so interesting to see how those identities impacted the way they felt about their miscarriages/stillbirths. The way the partners felt about the loss varied widely as well. Huge variation in the medical situations too, some people lost a clump of cells, some people had to give birth to a full term dead baby. Some people had tensions between their stated political beliefs (a clump of cells is not a person) and the intensity of their feelings about miscarrying a clump of cells. I thought it was incredibly brave and vulnerable to share all of these. Despite all these differences there was a universality to the grief.
Some standouts: The last story about the woman who had had 7 miscarriages in a refugee camp. This story made me wish we heard more from people who had to go through this in different time periods. Or from times/places where abortion is illegal. Though I guess in many situations they would just... die.
The story where the doctor misread the scan and she aborts a healthy fetus due to the doctor’s mistake. I couldn’t believe how much compassion she had for the doctor and I thought it showed so much grace. I’m sure many people would have a very very very different reaction to that situation.
The woman who had one triplet die who then had to lay upside down so gravity would hold the other two babies inside so they could gestate…. I never even knew that could happen.
The woman who terminated the pregnancy with a baby that was going to need a feeding tube and didn’t have its intestines inside of its body. I started thinking about the tensions between abortion discourse and disability discourse, i need to read more about that.
I did wish there was a story about a queer or non normative family but a collection doesn’t have to capture every possible identity. Being in Minnesota I loved that many of the writers were local. I had weird hangups about reading this having not experienced it personally, but honestly I think everyone should read this considering miscarriage is so much more common than we are lead to believe. It’s honestly a miracle anyone is alive, conception can only happen like once a month, and then you have to survive implantation, then you have to survive the first trimester, then the rest of pregnancy, then birth, then be so fragile the first several years of life, omg. Yea basically my main takeaways were 1) abortion needs to be unequivocally legal and accessible 2) there is so much that can go wrong life is a miracle 3) miscarriage is so common and there needs to be more recognition of that grief. Some types of grief are legible to the public and that makes it easier to deal with as hard as it is. Like when my brother died it was universally recognized by everyone I interacted with as a Horrible Thing. But unless it’s your immediate family there is like no narrative people know how to deal with and you don’t get bereavement leave etc.
The stories in this collection were all very different and from all kinds of people and yet all exactly the same. I don’t mean that as a criticism at all. Usually when I read an essay or short story collection I read it over a long period of time, only reading one piece per day so that I don’t jumble everything together in my mind. I meant to do that here, but I could not stop reading. I would just be crying during my lunch break every day. Reading them all at once made it feel like a cacophony of voices in a way that was beautiful.
Of course I teared up whenever there was a traumatic dead baby scene or the moment when the tech tells them there’s no heartbeat, but what really got to me emotionally was thinking about how these stories would end if they couldn’t safely access a D & C. I am someone who has always been staunchly pro abortion in a political and legal sense, but I’ve always been personally rather squeamish about it and it took me a long time to work through that. I think pro life people should read this. “I don’t want a baby” is as good as any reason to get an abortion, but I think reading this might help people understand how important abortions are as healthcare in situations they might not even imagine. What would happen to the woman who had a blighted egg and there was no baby or fetus whatsoever but there was still a placenta & all other markers of pregnancy? All the ectopic pregnancies? I kept crying thinking that in some states even the miscarriages could be criminalized. Real Spiraling Hours
I never really thought about the fact that it’s still painful to experience infertility when you’ve already had a child. This had just never occurred to me. New worry alert. Some people really grieve not having a boy or girl specifically. This book was full of horrors and grief I never even considered.
There was a breadth of experiences here, from various cultures & races to different religions. It was so interesting to see how those identities impacted the way they felt about their miscarriages/stillbirths. The way the partners felt about the loss varied widely as well. Huge variation in the medical situations too, some people lost a clump of cells, some people had to give birth to a full term dead baby. Some people had tensions between their stated political beliefs (a clump of cells is not a person) and the intensity of their feelings about miscarrying a clump of cells. I thought it was incredibly brave and vulnerable to share all of these. Despite all these differences there was a universality to the grief.
Some standouts: The last story about the woman who had had 7 miscarriages in a refugee camp. This story made me wish we heard more from people who had to go through this in different time periods. Or from times/places where abortion is illegal. Though I guess in many situations they would just... die.
The story where the doctor misread the scan and she aborts a healthy fetus due to the doctor’s mistake. I couldn’t believe how much compassion she had for the doctor and I thought it showed so much grace. I’m sure many people would have a very very very different reaction to that situation.
The woman who had one triplet die who then had to lay upside down so gravity would hold the other two babies inside so they could gestate…. I never even knew that could happen.
The woman who terminated the pregnancy with a baby that was going to need a feeding tube and didn’t have its intestines inside of its body. I started thinking about the tensions between abortion discourse and disability discourse, i need to read more about that.
I did wish there was a story about a queer or non normative family but a collection doesn’t have to capture every possible identity. Being in Minnesota I loved that many of the writers were local. I had weird hangups about reading this having not experienced it personally, but honestly I think everyone should read this considering miscarriage is so much more common than we are lead to believe. It’s honestly a miracle anyone is alive, conception can only happen like once a month, and then you have to survive implantation, then you have to survive the first trimester, then the rest of pregnancy, then birth, then be so fragile the first several years of life, omg. Yea basically my main takeaways were 1) abortion needs to be unequivocally legal and accessible 2) there is so much that can go wrong life is a miracle 3) miscarriage is so common and there needs to be more recognition of that grief. Some types of grief are legible to the public and that makes it easier to deal with as hard as it is. Like when my brother died it was universally recognized by everyone I interacted with as a Horrible Thing. But unless it’s your immediate family there is like no narrative people know how to deal with and you don’t get bereavement leave etc.
October 21, 2024
I found this book by accident. I can't even remember what book I was searching for, but this popped up and I knew it was fate.
I had a healthy two year old daughter when I became pregnant. We were elated at how easy it was to get pregnant and expand our family. We told everyone. Within a month of our news, I miscarried while on vacation in Maryland. My husband left the day this happened. He was en route to the airport and then in the air so I couldn't get a hold of him for hours. My vacation ended and I went home.
I went into counseling to deal with the grief. A grief I had never experienced before. A grief that weighed me down. By the next year I was pregnant again. Only to have another loss. My story ends with a second child. But the journey was one that was not expected.
The voices in this collection offer compassion and community. Miscarriage and still birth are difficult subjects. Most of my family and friends didn't mention anything to me about the loss. I don't think it was out of indifference, I think we just don't create a space to have these conversations. It's uncomfortable. It's dismissive (particularly with miscarriage).
This book is all from women of color and often in other countries. It's definitely interesting to hear how other countries acknowledge the loss of a baby or when a woman miscarries.
I was able to reflect on my own feelings of loss and emptiness.
I had a healthy two year old daughter when I became pregnant. We were elated at how easy it was to get pregnant and expand our family. We told everyone. Within a month of our news, I miscarried while on vacation in Maryland. My husband left the day this happened. He was en route to the airport and then in the air so I couldn't get a hold of him for hours. My vacation ended and I went home.
I went into counseling to deal with the grief. A grief I had never experienced before. A grief that weighed me down. By the next year I was pregnant again. Only to have another loss. My story ends with a second child. But the journey was one that was not expected.
The voices in this collection offer compassion and community. Miscarriage and still birth are difficult subjects. Most of my family and friends didn't mention anything to me about the loss. I don't think it was out of indifference, I think we just don't create a space to have these conversations. It's uncomfortable. It's dismissive (particularly with miscarriage).
This book is all from women of color and often in other countries. It's definitely interesting to hear how other countries acknowledge the loss of a baby or when a woman miscarries.
I was able to reflect on my own feelings of loss and emptiness.
June 27, 2020
An anthology of the stories of BIPOC and other racialized women who experienced pregnancy loss and infant death, What God Is Honored Here?, is a testament to the ways in which race intersects with every single human experience in our lives. Over these last weeks where I have supported many families through stillbirth and infant death, while also witnessing and experiencing racism both interpersonal and structural in healthcare settings, this book held me fast and tight to the profound beauty that is making life, even when it ends in loss in the colonial wasteland of our bureaucracies and nations. This book touched me so deeply. The contributors invite the reader to walk with them through their joy and pain and grief and healing in such a generous and fearless way. The stories shifted my professional practice and also followed me into my dreamscape and also into my daily interactions with my beloved exasperating children. These stories are so human and personal and bloody and fresh and true and heavy and enduring and real. And to read them is to reopen my own vulnerability in loving my children, in acknowledging the uncertainty of existence, and worshiping the truth of impermanence as the very reason every day must be lived as celebration and ceremony. A triumph of capturing the hardest moments of being human in the most tender and expansive way, I wish to honour these stories as I also try to honour those stories that are never given the space and voice they deserve.
July 3, 2019
What God Is Honored Here? is a moving and meaningful book about miscarriage and infant loss written by Native women and women of color.
Each "chapter" is written by a woman who has loved and lost. The book is hard to read, though not because of bad writing. The losses are hard to digest, poignant and painful.
But they are things that need to be said. About doctors who brush off the experiences of women of color or miscarriages that hurt even though friends and family may think it doesn't matter, that the baby wasn't far enough along to count or be wanted.
I don't really have a way to finish this review, so I'm just going to end on a quote.
"It's not easy being the mother of a dead child. In fact, it may be the hardest kind of mothering there is" - Rona Fernandez in What God Is Honored Here?
Each "chapter" is written by a woman who has loved and lost. The book is hard to read, though not because of bad writing. The losses are hard to digest, poignant and painful.
But they are things that need to be said. About doctors who brush off the experiences of women of color or miscarriages that hurt even though friends and family may think it doesn't matter, that the baby wasn't far enough along to count or be wanted.
I don't really have a way to finish this review, so I'm just going to end on a quote.
"It's not easy being the mother of a dead child. In fact, it may be the hardest kind of mothering there is" - Rona Fernandez in What God Is Honored Here?
May 3, 2025
Stories written by individuals who have experienced miscarriage, fetal, and infant loss. What this collection outlines exceptionally well are the struggles of navigating medical care and grief while experiencing such losses.
August 18, 2021
This was a really beautiful and moving collection, though also obviously emotionally difficult and sometimes intense. The diversity of experiences--not just racial, obviously, but also feelings about the miscarriage and infant loss--I think also contributed to the power of the collection. It's clearly not the same story over and over.
It's also obviously an insight into the gap between medical knowledge and information and the way that people process their miscarriages. I think it could be really instructive for medical providers to read this and see the way that their reactions are perceived by patients, and understand how that's taken (in addition to the way that racism clearly impacts how patients of color, especially women of color and Native women, are treated by medical providers.)
It's also obviously an insight into the gap between medical knowledge and information and the way that people process their miscarriages. I think it could be really instructive for medical providers to read this and see the way that their reactions are perceived by patients, and understand how that's taken (in addition to the way that racism clearly impacts how patients of color, especially women of color and Native women, are treated by medical providers.)
October 2, 2019
From the foreword to the last story I couldn’t stop telling myself how much this book was needed, and how helpful it is going to be to so many people. Apart from on the baby boards and on some blogs, we don’t really talk about miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss, even though statistics tell us that we should. And the blogs that do contain stories that we can easily find are usually written by middle class white women. (There is actually one story in the collection that discusses exactly this, and my head was nodding along in agreement as I was reading it). It’s so important that we let everyone tell their story, and that every woman’s story be available to all to read. This is why What God Is Honored Here? is such an important book: it is a collection of stories of infant loss and miscarriage by women of color and native women.
These stories are going to rip you apart. I was in tears through most of the book, and found the courage and strength of all of these women just incredible. Each and every story is beautifully written, heartbreaking, and provides us with an image of how grief and loss are handled in so many different ways. I also think that this collection provides those who are on the sidelines with ways to react and help when a loved one is going through the horrors of miscarriage and/or stillbirth. Sometimes we try too hard to find things to say that we think may comfort someone, when in the end an “I’m sorry” and a hug are better than words that hurt rather than comfort.
A huge thanks to the editors Shannon Gibney and Kao Kalia Yang for compiling these stories, and for all of the writers for making themselves vulnerable and telling their stories.
Thanks also to Netgalley and the publisher for sharing an advance copy of the beautiful book with me!
These stories are going to rip you apart. I was in tears through most of the book, and found the courage and strength of all of these women just incredible. Each and every story is beautifully written, heartbreaking, and provides us with an image of how grief and loss are handled in so many different ways. I also think that this collection provides those who are on the sidelines with ways to react and help when a loved one is going through the horrors of miscarriage and/or stillbirth. Sometimes we try too hard to find things to say that we think may comfort someone, when in the end an “I’m sorry” and a hug are better than words that hurt rather than comfort.
A huge thanks to the editors Shannon Gibney and Kao Kalia Yang for compiling these stories, and for all of the writers for making themselves vulnerable and telling their stories.
Thanks also to Netgalley and the publisher for sharing an advance copy of the beautiful book with me!
August 5, 2019
This is an important book about a silent epidemic that is especially hard for communities of color that start with a baseline of trauma because of racial inequity. As part of an infertile couple, I understand some of the pain these women have endured but there is more here than possibly be lived except by those that have experienced these losses first hand, raw and visceral.
February 1, 2023
honestly a must-read for any woman of color who encounter perinatal or infant loss, or if you care for someone who falls under that category. Should especially be required reading for every single medical professional who deals with pregnant people in any capacity.
Each story was powerful and unique in its own way, though many of the feelings and sentiments described in each are similar. The writing was really top-notch in so many of these. I’m really glad this book exists and I’m so sad that there aren’t more like it.
Each story was powerful and unique in its own way, though many of the feelings and sentiments described in each are similar. The writing was really top-notch in so many of these. I’m really glad this book exists and I’m so sad that there aren’t more like it.
October 15, 2019
I mean, I'm biased--but the other contributors' essays still knocked me flat. I wish I had had this a couple years ago--to feel a community of grief.
(Also, every medical practitioner should read this to make them more aware of their un/conscious biases towards women of color, particularly Black women, and the structural inequalities that make childbirth outcomes so different between Black women and white women.)
(Also, every medical practitioner should read this to make them more aware of their un/conscious biases towards women of color, particularly Black women, and the structural inequalities that make childbirth outcomes so different between Black women and white women.)
December 30, 2019
I am in awe of the power of this book. It honors the lived experience and pain of those in its pages and reaches out to connect to others' past and future experience. The world is better for the truths it contains, and for the erasures it restores.
June 6, 2020
Like any compilation, some stories are more engaging than others. But on the whole, heartbreaking, tender and honest.
January 14, 2024
5 stars - this book was a gut wrenching view of motherhood and miscarriage through the lens of women of color. i will never be the same after 🥲
July 3, 2019
Excellent book!!!!!
September 5, 2019
Disclaimer: I received this as an eARC via NetGalley in partnership with the publisher, for a fair and unbiased review.
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This book is not for the faint of heart or those with weak stomachs. It is graphic and it is telling. Telling of strength, resilience, fortitude, medical miracles, medical mishaps, and medical mistreatment. Depending on the mindset of the person, or how they grieve and handle difficult decisions, this could be an amazing source of healing. I can see it providing a source of comfort in not being alone with fertility and miscarriage experiences; the ability to consume the text on their own, at their own pace, alone, without *feeling* alone.
There are not cut cards in the beginning, as book of compilations starts with some of the most explicit, and eases into the lesser so. It is heart warming to know that woman of color who rarely/never share their pain, have found refuge in pen, paper, and reflection. What God is Honored here? is so solemn, but something about it also offers a strange peace. After reading, some mothers may find the strength it recounting their own stories.
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This book is not for the faint of heart or those with weak stomachs. It is graphic and it is telling. Telling of strength, resilience, fortitude, medical miracles, medical mishaps, and medical mistreatment. Depending on the mindset of the person, or how they grieve and handle difficult decisions, this could be an amazing source of healing. I can see it providing a source of comfort in not being alone with fertility and miscarriage experiences; the ability to consume the text on their own, at their own pace, alone, without *feeling* alone.
There are not cut cards in the beginning, as book of compilations starts with some of the most explicit, and eases into the lesser so. It is heart warming to know that woman of color who rarely/never share their pain, have found refuge in pen, paper, and reflection. What God is Honored here? is so solemn, but something about it also offers a strange peace. After reading, some mothers may find the strength it recounting their own stories.
October 24, 2019
4.5 stars
What God is Honored Here? is an anthology of 20+ essays and poems about miscarriage and infant loss, written by women of color and Native American women. Editors Shannon Gibney and Kao Kalia Yang aimed to collect and highlight the experiences of grieving indigenous mothers and mothers of color, whose stories have previously been misrepresented or missing entirely from societal narratives. I appreciated the wide variety of voices in this book, including women of many different ethnicities and religious backgrounds. Miscarriage and infant loss is an incredibly somber topic, and I could feel how hard it was for some of these women to talk about their experiences. Hearing so many similar stories back-to-back made this book more emotionally challenging, but it also highlighted each author’s unique perspectives, including differences in support systems, approaches towards grief and guilt, and methods of honoring their children. Some essays felt like they ended quite suddenly, mirroring the authors’ pregnancy stories. Other essays include future pregnancies and live births.
The infant and maternal mortality rates in America are extremely high, especially for women of color. One continuous theme throughout the book is the dismissive attitudes of healthcare providers, often causing these women to become more dangerously ill than they would have been if they had been appropriately treated at the time of their initial concerns.
There were many nuances within these narratives. In Binding Signs, Dania Rajendra talks about the confusion of being pro-choice while mourning a miscarriage and fallopian tube removal. I really loved her passage about the internal conflict of believing that embryos are not people, yet missing the people those embryos never became. Elsa Valmidiano talked about her experiences volunteering in the Philippines with an organization that medically assisted women who attempted self-induced abortions, and the different types of stigma and shame of abortion versus medically-induced miscarriage.
This book is a necessary step in narrowing the gap in the societal narrative around miscarriage and infant loss. What a gift to contribute during National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. The only downside of this book is that, as far as I can recall, this collection only included cis women in heterosexual relationships. I would have liked to see some representation from the LGBTQ+ community, as miscarriages and infant loss can happen to individuals in many different types of relationships using a variety of assisted reproductive technologies.
Thank you, University of Minnesota Press and NetGalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
What God is Honored Here? is an anthology of 20+ essays and poems about miscarriage and infant loss, written by women of color and Native American women. Editors Shannon Gibney and Kao Kalia Yang aimed to collect and highlight the experiences of grieving indigenous mothers and mothers of color, whose stories have previously been misrepresented or missing entirely from societal narratives. I appreciated the wide variety of voices in this book, including women of many different ethnicities and religious backgrounds. Miscarriage and infant loss is an incredibly somber topic, and I could feel how hard it was for some of these women to talk about their experiences. Hearing so many similar stories back-to-back made this book more emotionally challenging, but it also highlighted each author’s unique perspectives, including differences in support systems, approaches towards grief and guilt, and methods of honoring their children. Some essays felt like they ended quite suddenly, mirroring the authors’ pregnancy stories. Other essays include future pregnancies and live births.
The infant and maternal mortality rates in America are extremely high, especially for women of color. One continuous theme throughout the book is the dismissive attitudes of healthcare providers, often causing these women to become more dangerously ill than they would have been if they had been appropriately treated at the time of their initial concerns.
There were many nuances within these narratives. In Binding Signs, Dania Rajendra talks about the confusion of being pro-choice while mourning a miscarriage and fallopian tube removal. I really loved her passage about the internal conflict of believing that embryos are not people, yet missing the people those embryos never became. Elsa Valmidiano talked about her experiences volunteering in the Philippines with an organization that medically assisted women who attempted self-induced abortions, and the different types of stigma and shame of abortion versus medically-induced miscarriage.
This book is a necessary step in narrowing the gap in the societal narrative around miscarriage and infant loss. What a gift to contribute during National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. The only downside of this book is that, as far as I can recall, this collection only included cis women in heterosexual relationships. I would have liked to see some representation from the LGBTQ+ community, as miscarriages and infant loss can happen to individuals in many different types of relationships using a variety of assisted reproductive technologies.
Thank you, University of Minnesota Press and NetGalley for an ARC in exchange for an honest review.
November 15, 2021
Here is what I knew about my baby, before I miscarried this past September:
-> It was too small to see on ultrasound.
-> I had a feeling it was just a spirit, deciding -- even though reason, science and doctors were rightly concerned it was an ectopic pregnancy. (It wasn't, ultimately.)
-> I loved it.
Here is what I knew after the blood and the procedures:
-> I felt like I was floating in space, detached from the Earth, struggling for oxygen, ungrounded.
-> The physical pain was a real thing that was downplayed by medicine.
-> The essays in this book were the only things that felt real.
-> It did not help me to know this was a common experience. I don't want it to happen to anyone ever. Nonetheless, to talk about it:
"According to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), in the general population of the United States, 15 to 20 percent of pregnant women will experience a miscarriage in their lifetime, and stillbirths affect 1 percent of all pregnancies. This means that each year about 600,000 women in America experience losses, and about 24,00 babies are stillborn. In 2015, the overall infant mortality rate was 5.9 percent for every 1,000 births." p 3
Thinking about numbers for a second:
-> As of today, the New York Times reports that there have been 761,980 deaths from COVID-19 since January 2020 (in 22 months). Compare this to the 600K losses per year (likely a slightly dated number given the age of the book, and also likely underreported in the first place).
-> If we go with 600K, that's 1,644 losses a day.
-> It was too small to see on ultrasound.
-> I had a feeling it was just a spirit, deciding -- even though reason, science and doctors were rightly concerned it was an ectopic pregnancy. (It wasn't, ultimately.)
-> I loved it.
Here is what I knew after the blood and the procedures:
-> I felt like I was floating in space, detached from the Earth, struggling for oxygen, ungrounded.
-> The physical pain was a real thing that was downplayed by medicine.
-> The essays in this book were the only things that felt real.
-> It did not help me to know this was a common experience. I don't want it to happen to anyone ever. Nonetheless, to talk about it:
"According to the Centers for Disease Control (CDC), in the general population of the United States, 15 to 20 percent of pregnant women will experience a miscarriage in their lifetime, and stillbirths affect 1 percent of all pregnancies. This means that each year about 600,000 women in America experience losses, and about 24,00 babies are stillborn. In 2015, the overall infant mortality rate was 5.9 percent for every 1,000 births." p 3
Thinking about numbers for a second:
-> As of today, the New York Times reports that there have been 761,980 deaths from COVID-19 since January 2020 (in 22 months). Compare this to the 600K losses per year (likely a slightly dated number given the age of the book, and also likely underreported in the first place).
-> If we go with 600K, that's 1,644 losses a day.
October 21, 2019
4.5 stars. Wow. This collection of narrative essays written by native women and women of color about miscarriage and infant loss packs a powerful punch. These are highly readable. I thought I'd just dip in and out of this collection, and was mostly interested in reading Kao Kalia Yang's essay, since I know and love her writing, but I ended up going back to the beginning and reading this book cover to cover. An important work giving voice to women whose voices are not prominently heard in our society. Highly recommended for women, although a word of caution that this would be particularly difficult to read if you were currently trying to get pregnant, unless you want your experiences validated.
August 22, 2019
Thank you NetGalley and University of Minnesota Press for the opportunity to read and give an honest review of this book.
The birth and infant death experiences have been thoughtfully collected into one book by these authors. The thread of loss runs through the entire book. Women of color express their thoughts and feelings about not only the their experiences of miscarriage, stillbirth and SIDS but how they were treated or mistreated as patients.
This book would be useful to health care professionals and it should be required reading for anyone working OB-GYN and/ or Labor and Delivery.
The birth and infant death experiences have been thoughtfully collected into one book by these authors. The thread of loss runs through the entire book. Women of color express their thoughts and feelings about not only the their experiences of miscarriage, stillbirth and SIDS but how they were treated or mistreated as patients.
This book would be useful to health care professionals and it should be required reading for anyone working OB-GYN and/ or Labor and Delivery.
August 22, 2019
This is a book about which it is difficult to say, "I loved it," because the subject matter is so serious and heartbreaking. But, I did love the book, which is a compilation of writings about grief and loss. Who knew there were so many variations of grief possible for the death of a child? I lost my way every now and then in the poetry, but it may have been the Kindle formatting. Otherwise, I have nothing but praise to offer for the writing and the editing, which combined to make for a beautiful and unforgettable collection.
Read
March 1, 2024I felt myself totally sucked into this book, unable to put it down, but also having to take breaks to think and process it. This book has expanded my empathy and taught me things I didn’t know I didn’t know. Having a womb means being a keeper of life and death and hearing these women’s stories was emotionally and spiritually moving. I’m very grateful to have read it. I also appreciate the light it shines on the maltreatment of women of color in the medical establishment and the class issues surrounding maternity.
July 28, 2019
A book that gives voice to the unimaginable, validating the often dismissed feelings of women of color around devastating infant loss and miscarriage. Hurrah to the editors and brave women who shared their stories in this profoundly moving anthology.
December 2, 2021
Brave stories of loss
Brave, heart wrenching stories of loss that span the spectrum of types of loss and reactions. There is so much grief but also so much love and sisterhood and resilience and hope to be found in these pages.
Brave, heart wrenching stories of loss that span the spectrum of types of loss and reactions. There is so much grief but also so much love and sisterhood and resilience and hope to be found in these pages.
February 10, 2022
Meaningful and insightful
What a beautiful, heartbreaking and vulnerable work. This ought to be required reading! Thank you for sharing your stories, they will love on in me.
What a beautiful, heartbreaking and vulnerable work. This ought to be required reading! Thank you for sharing your stories, they will love on in me.
March 23, 2022
Heartbreaking, powerful, brave.
October 6, 2019
I received a copy of this ARC from Netgalley in exchange for my honest review. As a Perinatal Social Worker I was drawn to this book from the first time I saw it. Thank you to all of the brave mothers who made themselves vulnerable and shared their heartbreaking stories in honor of their babies. I truly believe this will change the way providers interact with their patients for any who read this. I have recommended this book to many colleagues including our Perinatal and Pediatric Bereavement Council. This book provided insight from the patient perspective and will stay with me throughout my practice. Thank you for the opportunity to read and review this impactful book!
July 17, 2020
These stories were written in a world that typically does not recognize miscarriages and infant loss, especially for women of color. The editors wanted the “women and families who experienced fetal and infant death to be able to represent themselves and their particular truths. We wanted the babies who have been lost to become embodied and to discard their ghostly presence in the larger societal narrative.”
And so, I could write a review of how incredibly impactful and moving these stories are, or, I could just let the writers’ words speak for themselves. Each story in this collection speaks its own truth. These were the four stories that spoke most strongly to me:
Then and Then by Sidney Clifton:
“No heart. Just data. No heart. Just data. The machine turns on, sounding like a coffee grinder or a blender, something sharp that destroys things. Doctor asks, ‘Ready?’ ‘Yep!’ I lie. Doctor inserts the instrument and now everything is sound (no heart) that gets louder (no heart) and louder like a garbage disposal grinding too many scraps (no heart) and (I’m sorry) after (no heart) ten minutes (no heart) finally finally finally (no heart) it’s all (no heart) over (nooooooooheeeeaaaarrttt) It was the right thing. It is the right thing. I get dressed. Stand up straight, despite wearing a super-duper absorbent maxi pad. It was the right thing.”
“Finally an answer. Trisomy 13. ‘Incompatible with life.’ But was it my son or daughter who was incompatible with life? Until I know, I will not know what this means. Daughter means ‘not another,’ ‘not this one,’ ‘you have already been blessed.’ Son means ‘no boys for him’ means ‘you have not earned him,’ means ‘you had your chance and blew it.’ My heart is a madwoman screaming. I don’t know what this means.”
Lessons from Dying by Sarah Agaton Howes:
“I didn’t know that you had to go through labor to deliver your dead child.”
“After that, every movement felt slow and labored. And then I realized that I had also died. I couldn’t breathe. Losing your child is losing yourself. She died, I died. I didn’t, I couldn’t protect her. My body, what became known as the Death Trap had killed her. Or maybe the air had. The water? God? Who, who had killed my daughter?”
“Grief and total despair joined me to so many women. My grandmothers are the survivors of boarding schools, rapes, abuse, child abduction, and so much sadness. They surround me with their stories, their hands, their laughter, their bitterness, and their sheer determination not to die. I came from this legacy of sadness. But I also came from their legacy of survival.”
Binding Signs by Dania Rajendra:
“The doctor made sure to explain to us that it wasn’t an abortion, because the pregnancy wasn’t viable. Viable is the same in English and Spanish. What he said was, ‘It’s not a sin.’ He said it over and over. Neither of us told him I was Jewish, feminist, not Catholic. Neither of us told him we’re for abortion on demand, without apology. Neither of us told him much of anything.”
“For me, infertility provoked another internal conflict: embryos are not people, and yet, I have missed the people those embryos never became every day since I lost them.”
Calendar of the Unexpected? by Catherine R. Squires:
“My friend D from graduate school called to catch up with me in the winter of 2001. For some reason, I decided to go ahead and tell her: ‘I had a miscarriage.’ ‘Oh—how far along were you?’ she asked. ‘Um, like eight or nine weeks,’ I stammered. Then there was a pause, a silence, a hesitation on her end of the line. ‘So it’s not really a miscarriage, right? I mean—it wasn’t really a baby yet, right?’ Though she was hundreds of miles away, I think she could sense my face reddening, or could hear my heart pounding and stomach twisting and gurgling in the effort to maintain a steady voice as I replied, ‘It was to me.’”
“I have three more appointments with this gynecologist. At each one, I bring up how I am still feeling tired, having strangely long periods, and cannot get pregnant despite trying after the prescribed waiting period. I’ve read these are symptoms of possible thyroid issues, I say. She shrugs it off and suggests I am more likely depressed, that I might try antidepressants, that I should keep trying to get pregnant despite how awful I feel, because I am getting closer to thirty, and it is harder after that decade begins.”
And so, I could write a review of how incredibly impactful and moving these stories are, or, I could just let the writers’ words speak for themselves. Each story in this collection speaks its own truth. These were the four stories that spoke most strongly to me:
Then and Then by Sidney Clifton:
“No heart. Just data. No heart. Just data. The machine turns on, sounding like a coffee grinder or a blender, something sharp that destroys things. Doctor asks, ‘Ready?’ ‘Yep!’ I lie. Doctor inserts the instrument and now everything is sound (no heart) that gets louder (no heart) and louder like a garbage disposal grinding too many scraps (no heart) and (I’m sorry) after (no heart) ten minutes (no heart) finally finally finally (no heart) it’s all (no heart) over (nooooooooheeeeaaaarrttt) It was the right thing. It is the right thing. I get dressed. Stand up straight, despite wearing a super-duper absorbent maxi pad. It was the right thing.”
“Finally an answer. Trisomy 13. ‘Incompatible with life.’ But was it my son or daughter who was incompatible with life? Until I know, I will not know what this means. Daughter means ‘not another,’ ‘not this one,’ ‘you have already been blessed.’ Son means ‘no boys for him’ means ‘you have not earned him,’ means ‘you had your chance and blew it.’ My heart is a madwoman screaming. I don’t know what this means.”
Lessons from Dying by Sarah Agaton Howes:
“I didn’t know that you had to go through labor to deliver your dead child.”
“After that, every movement felt slow and labored. And then I realized that I had also died. I couldn’t breathe. Losing your child is losing yourself. She died, I died. I didn’t, I couldn’t protect her. My body, what became known as the Death Trap had killed her. Or maybe the air had. The water? God? Who, who had killed my daughter?”
“Grief and total despair joined me to so many women. My grandmothers are the survivors of boarding schools, rapes, abuse, child abduction, and so much sadness. They surround me with their stories, their hands, their laughter, their bitterness, and their sheer determination not to die. I came from this legacy of sadness. But I also came from their legacy of survival.”
Binding Signs by Dania Rajendra:
“The doctor made sure to explain to us that it wasn’t an abortion, because the pregnancy wasn’t viable. Viable is the same in English and Spanish. What he said was, ‘It’s not a sin.’ He said it over and over. Neither of us told him I was Jewish, feminist, not Catholic. Neither of us told him we’re for abortion on demand, without apology. Neither of us told him much of anything.”
“For me, infertility provoked another internal conflict: embryos are not people, and yet, I have missed the people those embryos never became every day since I lost them.”
Calendar of the Unexpected? by Catherine R. Squires:
“My friend D from graduate school called to catch up with me in the winter of 2001. For some reason, I decided to go ahead and tell her: ‘I had a miscarriage.’ ‘Oh—how far along were you?’ she asked. ‘Um, like eight or nine weeks,’ I stammered. Then there was a pause, a silence, a hesitation on her end of the line. ‘So it’s not really a miscarriage, right? I mean—it wasn’t really a baby yet, right?’ Though she was hundreds of miles away, I think she could sense my face reddening, or could hear my heart pounding and stomach twisting and gurgling in the effort to maintain a steady voice as I replied, ‘It was to me.’”
“I have three more appointments with this gynecologist. At each one, I bring up how I am still feeling tired, having strangely long periods, and cannot get pregnant despite trying after the prescribed waiting period. I’ve read these are symptoms of possible thyroid issues, I say. She shrugs it off and suggests I am more likely depressed, that I might try antidepressants, that I should keep trying to get pregnant despite how awful I feel, because I am getting closer to thirty, and it is harder after that decade begins.”
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