I wrote this in March of this past year and thought October, National Pregnancy and Infant Loss month was the right time to share.  


I stopped living life because the life inside me stopped living. 

If you see me soon, don’t judge me when my hair isn’t washed, my kids have fast food meals and are enjoying ungodly amount of screen time.

Briefly I have stopped.  I’ve laid motionless with my thoughts for days.  Everything has been closed off, including the curtains, I could’t tell you what the weather has been. The only reason I know day and night because the people around me still rise and sleep. 

I was pregnant.  Now  I am not. 

This isn’t the first time, this is the fifth.  I want to trust my body with pregnancy, but instead when I am met with a new life, I am settled with mistrust and angst.  It isn’t until I can feel my baby move that my heart breaks open and love spills out. Until then, I am guarded. In that, not only am I overwhelmed with with loss and grief when my body can’t hold on anymore, I am also settled with guilt because I set up a wall and didn’t let myself love all the way. 

Miscarriage is labor.  

The ebb and flow of contractions come, though not as intense as a full term pregnancy. I immerse myself in water the shower becomes my sanctuary, no line between the tears and the water raining down on me 

Miscarriage is birth.  

You have to surrender yourself an let go.  As much as I wanted this to be over quickly, this was an entire day and night.  

The difference between miscarriage and birth, is not having a baby to show the world.  The most powerful thing ever said to me after a miscarriage, “It doesn’t matter that you don’t have a baby to hold in my arms, you will forever be a mother.”  

I want every woman who has ever lost a baby to know this.  You are a mother that cared deeply and loved your baby, no matter how small.  

Miscarriage is devastating,  It is excruciating.  It is profound. 

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