A blue line– faint at first and then growing darker–told me I was going to have a baby. I felt full of joy and hope. New life was taking form inside of me.
I started thinking of names, of all the adventures to come. Then at 13 weeks something didn’t feel right. I felt sick, I had pain, but I tried to push it to the back of my mind. I tried to talk about it, to voice my concerns, but I was met with criticism. He told me if something went wrong it would be my fault for thinking negatively. 2.00AM it happened. Excruciating pain and blood, red as a rose in bloom, the thorn piercing my womb. A scream came from deep within me. It didn’t even sound like me. It was full of fear and of anguish. I was so afraid. At hospital, an operation. I woke up with nothing inside of me. A space where my unborn child should have been. I felt empty, alone, and so very sad. I went home. It wasn’t mentioned. It was as though it had never happened. I kept it all inside of me. I blamed myself. I hated my body for not keeping my baby safe. I slept and had dreams. I woke to a nightmare. I wished I hadn’t felt like I was burdened with an awful secret. I should not have been made to feel that way. Nature can be cruel, but people don’t have to be. It is not a failure. I will always be a mother to my lost child. I tell my story so that others can. Let’s talk. Let’s share. So that no one will feel as alone as I did.