Today’s author is displaying a kind of bravery that I don’t think I, or many people I know, could. The post you are about to read is full of a sweet and secret hope, of worry and wondering and joy.

Sadly, so sadly, the author miscarried a week or so after sending this to us. She’s asked that we still post it – even during this time of incredible hurt and devastation she wanted to be able to remember her hope.

You are the intake of breath as I talk about something else. You are the tailing off of every sentence. Staying as quiet as a mouse, holding so much back. We’ve chosen to only tell the closest people about you, worrying about raising too many hopes (our hopes, mainly).  Letting it out in the strangest of places: the hairdressers, a new acquaintance, a random waitress in a cafe. Seeing how news of you lights up these faces, faces that won’t even know you but are moved and delighted by the news. Oh how I can’t wait til you make the faces dearest to me light up like that. I carry you round with me everyday, precious cargo.
You were our greatest fear for so long when we were too young, too poor, our lives too transient. Then suddenly -was it overnight?- you became our greatest wish. Separately we arrived at the thought of you, together we agreed it was time.  We watched distant fireworks so far from home. Always the most magical night of the year, but unaware of the magic already happening inside. Oblivious but desiring. I feasted on everything I’m now denied. Deep down knowing there was a chance but doubting the likelihood after all these years.
I try to understand the science, the logic of it all. It fascinates me and I’m reading everything I can, learning so much. It is all to try and get a grip on you, to try and gauge you. But sometimes it is still too hopelessly abstract. I was told you were a strawberry last week but I look at a punnet and wonder- which one? Which size? The desire to know you is so strong.
If happiness could be a factor in your creation, know that it was a time of bliss. Of the hugest skies, the starriest nights, the warmest sun. I have since been growing you in the darkness, hidden and covered up. But I see the snowdrops pushing through and the budding blossom coming out and I am consumed by thoughts of the new emerging life inside. I’m impatient as you remain our quiet little secret. I can’t wait til you become the biggest news that we’ll shout loudly from the rooftops.
Categories: Becoming a Mother, Life Experience
15 interesting thoughts on this


  1. Fee
    Posted March 12, 2014 at 7:49 am | Permalink

    I’m so, so sorry for your loss. How horribly unfair. This is such a beautiful piece of writing, how loved your baby was. The legacy of hope that comes across so much in this post will stay with you I’m sure. I wish there was something I could say to comfort you but I know there is little that helps. Be kind to yourself at this time and let your loved ones take care of you. You will be ok – a bit bruised and battered, undoubtedly changed – but ok.

    Wishing you so much luck for the future – when you are ready, that magic will come back into your life and light it up again I’m sure. Sending lots of love xxx

    P.s. If you ever need someone to talk to, Aisling/Anna have my details. I know it doesn’t always help to talk to someone who has experienced something similar but please do get in touch if you think it might xxx

    • Anon.
      Posted March 12, 2014 at 11:38 am | Permalink

      Thank you so much Fee, I really appreciate your words and offer of help. I have this fundamental feeling of calm deep inside me that says ‘I will be ok’ -I felt it coming during the long night of the miscarriage- but currently there’s just a flurry of emotions hiding it all and the days feel very long. But it will get better x

  2. Posted March 12, 2014 at 7:58 am | Permalink

    Pure poetry.
    I am sorry for your loss. I hope this post can remind you of your strength. Xxx

  3. ChirstyMac
    Posted March 12, 2014 at 8:11 am | Permalink

    This is truly, beautifully, heart-wrenchingly poignant writing. I so admire the strength you must have to request this be put up on the blog in spite of everything. I hope that strength offers your solace in what I can only imagine must be the hardest of times. I do hope there is hope still there that you can hold on to. Much love. X

  4. Katielase
    Posted March 12, 2014 at 8:23 am | Permalink

    I’m not sure I have the words to comment on this as it deserves but it is a truly amazing piece of writing and I am so so very sorry for your loss. Look after yourself, you wonderful person, I hope that you get the joy so you deserve.

    KL x

  5. Posted March 12, 2014 at 8:49 am | Permalink

    I too am so very sorry for your loss, it was hard to read this beautiful piece of writing, knowing what Aisling told us in the intro. Like Fee I wish there was something I could say that would help even in the smallest of ways but I know that is unlikely. Look afer yourself, cry, scream, lean on each other and your friends and family. And don’t lose that hope. Sending love and hugs xxx

  6. Posted March 12, 2014 at 8:53 am | Permalink

    Such a beautiful evocation of your feelings of hope and excitement. I’m so sorry you’ve lost your baby. Thank you for sharing this.

  7. Anon
    Posted March 12, 2014 at 10:25 am | Permalink

    Oh, lady. I know this feeling so well, and the other feeling too, the sorrow and the loss. Give yourself room and time to grieve. Know that when your time comes around again – and I hope so hard that it will – that for the first while it won’t be quite as sweet, you won’t let your dreams fly quite so high, you’ll be terrified of every twinge. But then hope will start to blossom, even though you try to push it back into the dark earth, and one day you’ll suddenly come to believe that this time might just be different. Hold on to that hope, and it will hold you back.

    Sending so much love your way.

    • Anon.
      Posted March 12, 2014 at 11:35 am | Permalink

      Thank you so much. I’m very torn at the moment between the desire to try and get pregnant as soon as possible and the fear of things going wrong again. It is too early to even be thinking about it but my mind just races ahead. Your kindness and encouragement means a lot x

      • Anon
        Posted March 12, 2014 at 3:00 pm | Permalink

        It’s such a hard decision. In the end nature took it out of our hands, and it took us nearly a year to conceive again. It was a hard year, and then the first three months of pregnancy were terrifying, but believe me when I say that it was hope that got me through it.

        The other thing I meant to say is that it’s ok to want to punch pregnant women in the face for the next few weeks/months. I unfollowed several pregnant people and new mums on Twitter because I couldn’t bear their happiness when I was so sad. I felt guilty about it at the time, but I shouldn’t have. Your priority is to protect yourself and give yourself space and time to heal. Those fat heifers and their stupid babies* can take care of themselves for a while.

        *They weren’t really fat heifers or stupid babies, of course, but it made me feel better at the time to think of them like that. Meanwhile I ran around drinking wine, eating brie and lifting heavy boxes JUST BECAUSE I COULD.

        • Anon
          Posted March 12, 2014 at 3:01 pm | Permalink

          Also, I have no idea why I’m showing up as a bald albino wearing sunglasses, but I’m secretly quite liking it. I may just start using this Anon account all the time.

  8. Caroline
    Posted March 12, 2014 at 12:47 pm | Permalink

    Oh honey I’m so sorry that you’ve had to go through this.
    There is nothing I can say that will make you feel better.
    I have my fingers crossed that you will get your baby one day.
    Thinking of you and sending you love and strength xxx

  9. Posted March 12, 2014 at 4:48 pm | Permalink

    I am so sorry for your loss, echoing what the others have said, take care of yourself, take time to grieve, cry, and then… try to let go. The hope will come back, do not lose your ability to hope.

    (And yes, such beautiful writing).

  10. Anon.
    Posted March 12, 2014 at 5:00 pm | Permalink

    Thank you to everyone who has left such kind and supportive comments today. As hard as it is right now, this has really helped xx

  11. Lottie
    Posted March 13, 2014 at 12:05 am | Permalink

    Your love and hope means this baby will never be forgotten by you. Beautiful writing.

    Sending you best wishes and all the good fortune in the world when it comes to conceiving the next baby xxxx

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Hello! We're Clare, Aisling and Anna and welcome to a corner of the world where smart, flawed, real women talk about the bigger picture; about their experiences, stories and opinions on all aspects of being a woman today, from marriage to feminism to pretty, too.

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