To the mama who has experienced an early miscarriage—
You may feel a little bit lost, stuck in this space between shock and hurt and grief. You may even feel like you aren’t allowed to grieve this baby, because you never even got to see them. But, I want you to know, that you are so allowed to feel it, and feel it as deeply as you need to.
That was your baby, that your body made and started to grow, and as one who has been there, I know that deep connection. As soon as you saw those two pink lines, that baby was yours. You started to dream of who this little person would be, what you might name them. You imagined their sweet little face and how their body would feel snuggled into yours. And while you never got to feel or hold your baby, I know you felt that connection and that connection was as real as any feeling will ever be.
This may have been your first pregnancy, and you may have gone into mama research mode, looking at the baby section in every store, googling until the wee hours of the morning, talking with your partner about the change that is about to happen. Or maybe you are already a mother, and you know that deep and intimate love that is possible, and you started to feel that down in your gut once more.
And in an instant, before you ever got to see that flicker, hear that beautiful whoosh whoosh of a baby heartbeat, or see your body change and grow, it is no more. All that you had started to picture and dream of is taken away. I know you feel like your body has failed you, and that you are broken in some kind of way. Your body is nothing short of amazing. I know you aren’t sure if you’re allowed to talk about it. Because you didn’t loose someone you had gotten to see or meet, you didn’t get or have to deliver this baby. And maybe you heard things like
“Everything happens for a reason” or “at least you weren’t very far along” or “a miscarriage means something wasn’t right, so it’s probably for the better” or maybe something even crazier and more hurtful than those things. So you try and convince yourself it isn’t that big of a deal. That it’s just a part of the process, and you happen to be one of the unlucky ones.
I’m here to tell you this, your hurt is valid. Whatever grieving looks like for you, let it happen. I want you to cry, and scream, and ask why me. Talk about your baby, because after all, it was yours. Choose something to remember your baby. and let it bring you some peace. And whether or not you get the opportunity to hold another baby in your arms, you are still, and will always be, a Mother. And while you had that baby in your care, all they knew was you and oh did they know you loved them.
It may seem like no one understands, how your hurt can be so real and so raw. Oh mama, I wish I could tell you that time heals this wound, but I can’t I can’t tell you that the pain will ever go away or become less, but you will learn how to ride the waves. And if and when those waves are just too much, know that you are not alone. There are others of us, here, waiting to embrace you and wrap you in love. We know there will always be a little space in your heart, reserved for this little one, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have enough space for future babes to fill up or that you aren’t allowed the joy of motherhood, because you have this sore spot. Both of those things can exist together.
So mama, while I hate to have you join this club, I’m glad you’ve found me. We don’t have to get through this alone.
Your sister in motherhood.