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A Letter To My Friend On The Loss of Her Pregnancy.



To my darling friend,

For the past few weeks, a happy secret has propelled you. Since reading the positive result on your home pregnancy test, bleary-eyed and amazed, the world beyond your door suddenly filled with baby things.

Much to your delight, the drive from work to home was littered with strollers. The shelves of the grocery store stocked full formula and baby food packs. How had you never noticed before?

Many times you’ve placed a hand over your tummy and thought with wonder of the little light, little life, quietly buzzing inside you.

Can I feel it? you’ve asked yourself. Hello! Little light, I love you.

And then, as quickly as it came, its leaving. You’re miscarrying, and the fantasy is slipping away. While your body struggles with the change, your heart aches most. The little light extinguished, a dull, quiet ache painfully takes the place of your joy. The reminders of pregnancy are everywhere still, now unwanted, taunting.

The majority of people in your life don’t know you’ve lost anything. Coworkers, neighbours, the waitress at your favorite restaurant — you must pretend to be your normal self with these people, just distracted, unwell.

And maybe the few who are closest, who do know, are telling you “It’s ok. This happens. You’ll get pregnant again.”

No! The thought of another pregnancy repels you. I can’t do this again, you think. Your body has betrayed you. It’s too soon to imagine trusting it again.

So instead, my dear friend, what I want to tell you is that you haven’t lost anything at all.

Your baby is not gone, and your pregnancy is not in the past. Your baby is waiting for you still, inside. Your baby is in the future. Every egg you’ll ever cycle is in you, has been since before you were even born yourself. The seed of your future, valid pregnancy — and of your true baby’s life — is still in you right now.

Reach your hand down to your belly, you’ll feel it there under your palm and warm in your chest. Patience and time still separate you, but she’s in your future.

Forget this day, this week. You’re on the journey to meet your baby. It will be longer, now, with more patience required. But good things take time and are worth the wait. You can do it, I know you can. Rest now.

— Your friend.

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