When I first started this blog little over a year ago, I knew exactly what I wanted it to be. I wanted to inspire moms whose lives are just as busy as mine. I wanted to be able to influence and entertain and educate others and make them part of my life and writing. But before I even got started, God reminded me that this would also be my platform. I’m not one for dwelling in the past or picking at old sores but with that being said, I also believe that what I’m about to share might help someone else. October is pregnancy loss awareness month and when I found this out two years ago in October, I was terrified to tell my story. This year I’m still terrified but I’m not just considering my own fears. I’m also considering the fears of so many other women. They too are scared and unsure and sad. So, during this years’ Pregnancy loss awareness month I would like to make you aware that you are not alone. Even if you are terrified, you are not alone in your fear either.

 

I always knew that I wanted to be a mom and that I someday would be. Some people become moms when they have a baby and others are born just being a mom. I fit into the latter category, so when I realised that I was miscarrying our first child my heart broke into a million little pieces. I hadn’t even known that I was pregnant and the emotional pain I felt was far worse than the physical pain although the contractions were a physical reminder of what was happening inside my body. We never got a chance to be happy over our first baby or meet him. We didn’t get the opportunity to pick out a name or worry endlessly about his future. We only felt the heartache and pain that accompanies a great, great loss.

 

For months I stayed quite about it, not wanting to hear all the statistics of lost pregnancies and miscarriages. I also didn’t want a doctor to refer to our baby as a ‘foetus’ and I refused to see one. For months afterwards I had a compromised immune system because of the shock my body went through and with every sniffle or cold or infection, I was reminded of that which I had lost, as if my body was trying to remind me that it too had lost something. Every time someone else fell pregnant or a baby was dedicated in church, I would feel the same anguish that I felt on that terrible day.

One night, Jacques cried with me and laid his hands on my belly. Even though there was nothing there, he prayed for a healthy pregnancy and a strong baby. He asked God to look after the one we had lost until we finally get to meet him one day.

 

Time really does heal all wounds and when I think of my first baby, I feel more excited to see him rather than sad that I haven’t yet. People have often told me that once you give birth to a baby, you completely forget about the one you had lost. I never have. I don’t believe that life begins or ends at a certain point and I often pray for the soul that we will one day get to meet. I now have a beautiful baby boy, but he will forever and always be my second child.

 

To all the other moms out there: Rest assured, that is what you are. Whether your baby was five weeks, five months or five years old, you are still a mom. Mourn your child for as long as you need to. You are not just another statistic and you do not have to get over it any time soon. Talk to someone, pray, scream or cry but try and feel what is needed to heal your body, heart and soul.