Dear Miscarriages,
It’s customary to begin a letter with warm sentiments, but as I sit down to write to you, I find it impossible to summon any kind words. Instead, the thoughts swirling in my mind are filled with anguish and betrayal, stemming from the heartache you have caused.
You have taken three precious children from me. Three. Each one was a life I cherished, a life I eagerly anticipated. I will never know their names, their faces, or the joy of holding them close. All that remains are sonogram images — these stark reminders of what could have been, sitting on my dresser, haunting me every day.
You have deprived my son of his siblings. He may not understand yet, but he has three brothers or sisters in heaven who will never get to share their lives with him. You robbed him of playmates, of the laughter and love that brothers and sisters bring.
You forced me to say goodbye to my child when all I wanted was to cling to the hope of holding on. As I watched the flicker of life on the sonogram screen slowly fade, I realized it was only fighting for me. Telling my baby it was okay to let go is a pain I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Do you even comprehend the depth of that sorrow?
Your actions have etched an indelible image in my mind — my still baby on the screen, a sight I wish to forget yet cannot escape. The innocence of joy tied to sonograms is forever tarnished for me. You have tainted the beauty of pregnancy, transforming it into a landscape of anxiety where I once found joy. The hope I used to feel is now overshadowed by the dread of loss.
The ache of loss never subsides. It lingers, a relentless emptiness in my heart where my children once resided. You have taken pieces of me, leaving me incomplete. This sadness has become an inseparable part of who I am, lurking beneath the surface and revealing itself in moments of solitude.
You have altered my marriage, too. The grief has created a barrier between my husband and me. I can see the longing in his eyes for the woman I used to be before you entered my life. I miss her as well, yet she feels lost to me, buried under layers of sorrow.
You have instilled a disdain for my body within me. Once a vessel of strength and health, it now feels like a failure, unable to sustain the lives I so desperately wanted. Why should I care for a body that has betrayed me?
You have led me to question my faith. I once believed wholeheartedly that everything happens for a reason, but now I grapple with doubt. Why does God bless me with life only to take it away? Doesn’t He understand the depth of my desire for these children?
Jealousy has become a constant companion, lurking in the shadows whenever I encounter others who are pregnant. It’s an emotion I cannot seem to shake, and it fills me with shame.
Certain dates are now etched in my memory: January 4, January 21, September 26. These were once days of hope, now marked with sadness. Each year, I am reminded of the lives that could have been, the milestones I will never celebrate.
Walking past the empty nursery in our home is a painful reminder of what you have taken. We envisioned filling that room with laughter, joy, and the love of a sibling for our son. Instead, it stands as a testament to our loss.
So, miscarriages, I find it impossible to extend kindness to you. You have stripped away my ability to conform to social niceties while leaving a trail of grief in your wake.
With deep sorrow,
A Heartbroken Mother
In summary, this letter encapsulates the profound pain and loss experienced by a mother who has endured multiple miscarriages. It reflects on the emotional toll these experiences take, not only on the individual but also on family dynamics, faith, and self-perception. The letter serves as a poignant reminder of the struggles many face in silence, navigating their grief while yearning for the children they will never hold.