Miscarried and broken.

I feel broken.

Completely and totally broken.

This is the 4th miscarriage I am having to live through. The 4th baby I will never hold in my arms. The 4th baby whose voice I will never hear. The 4th baby whose feet I will never kiss, whose smile I will never see, whom I will never hear call me mom. The 4th time my heart is so completely broken, that I feel like I will very physically break in half. My chest physically hurts from the pain of this beautiful baby lost.

Even though my baby was not big enough for me to feel her kicks, I could feel she was there. I didn't even know yet, if my baby was a boy or a girl, but I feel in my gut that I had a baby girl.

The bond between mother and child starts at conception for me. Even before I knew she was there, she knew me. She was a part of me. She was dependent on me. She needed me. From the moment I knew she was there, I loved her, I wanted her and she was mine.

It has been over a year of trying to conceive this child and finally, finally, we had our prayers answered, just for it to be taken away, just like that. *finger snap

It is hard. Really, really hard to accept. It feels like I failed.

  • Did I not love her enough?
  • Did I do something/eat something that caused this?
  • Did I not want her enough?
  • Did I want her too much?
  • Is my body defective?
  • I already have 3 kids, was I being selfish wanting her so much?

So many questions. So much guilt. It’s just so much.

I have been through this 3 times before, so I know in time I will find a way to accept it. I will find a way to move on. Which is partly why I am writing this blog post. Writing helps me process. Writing helps me think. Writing helps me connect with others to offer support and be supported. In my pain, and through my tears I wrote A Broken Mama’s Guide to Miscarriage eBook and I hope that you find some measure of strength, healing and hope.

For now, I am just going to let myself break. For now I have no answers to my questions. For now I am shattered and broken. So I write to try to make sense of the senseless. I write to ease some of the pain. I write because my child is lost and there is nothing I can do to get her back. So I take it one day at a time and let myself feel my pain.

I am going to give myself time. I am going to let myself break and when I can break no more, I will start the business of picking myself back up.