Entry 001

On more than occasion since the loss of our first baby, I’ve been told that the “reason” for our miscarriages is so I can write. Because I’m a good writer. Because I have a way with words that make the reader really feel something. Because me writing about the devastation, the guilt, and the yearning I’ve experienced after the loss of four—let me say that again—FOUR babies makes others know they’re not alone. 

That is not the reason my husband and I have four children we will never meet on this earth. Whose skin we will never touch. Whose eyes we will never know the color of. Whose voices we will never hear.

Don’t get me wrong, the fact that I may be comforting a woman when she feels like a failure, or a father who doesn’t know what the mother of his child is experiencing because she can’t express it, or a family member who wants to understand what their daughter, sister, niece, or cousin is going through but has been blessed to not have gone through it themself, is incredible. It’s something I wish I didn’t have the ability to do. But I know it’s a side effect of my experiences.

The decision to create this site and begin sharing what I’ve been writing for months was not an easy one. I fear people thinking I’m taking advantage of my children dying. I fear people thinking I’m doing something to cause my pregnancies to end so that I can get their sympathy. But as we’re taught in middle school, you can’t worry about what other people think. So here I am. Sharing my words of loss to honor our sweet angels. And if that helps you know you’re not alone in the pure darkness of losing your child, or gives you a better understanding of what miscarriage is really like, then that’s a bonus. But not the reason.

Emily Lindquist