I’d hoped…

I’d hoped today I would be sharing happy news that I am ten weeks pregnant. Instead I’m sharing the news that we’ve lost another one. Another baby gone too soon.

I don’t really know where to even start to write. Only that I know I need to.

I’ve had a few people message me and tell me that they have no words and that only expletives will do. That pretty much feels spot on at the minute.

I want to shout profanities to the sky, to the universe.  If only to get the anger and sadness out of my body and into the world. As if maybe that might help in some way.

It feels like an injustice. Like why me? Why another one? Haven’t we been through enough?

But how can it be an injustice, if so many women go through the same thing?

I know that many others have been through worse, months and years of this, and never to hold a child of their own in their arms.

I know if not me, then someone else, and I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.

I know all this in my head but my heart doesn’t understand any of that. 

My heart is a raging mother lion that aches for her baby.

My heart screams “Why me?! No! I can’t take anymore.”

My heart hurts so much it wants to start building big brick walls around itself, so that it can never be hurt again.

I have to admit … thoughts of ‘maybe we’re done then’ have passed through my head. Right now I can’t imagine having to endure three, but then nor could I imagine it again after last time, and here we are.

While my head rationalises, and my heart screams in pain, my spirit whispers.

“There is a reason why.

Don’t try to understand it- you can’t yet, maybe not ever.

Don’t lose hope.

You’re going to be ok. ”

It’s barely a whisper though, and mostly my head and my heart are too loud to hear it.

I know from last time there was one thing that helped. Your stories.  Those of you who reached out shared your stories helped me immensely. Even though they too are heartbreaking to hear, it somehow helps me to feel my own pain and makes me feel less alone.

As if somehow your words have the power to reach through these screens and give me a knowing hug. A simple reassuring “me to.”

So if I can, I’d like to ask this favour of you today. Share your story of loss and heartache with me?  Send me an email (bettina@bettinarae.com) or comment on Facebook. Your words mean the world to me.  Together we’ll heal.

Just a little FYI, I plan to release a book mid-2017 on healing from loss. If you’d like to be the first to know when this book is available or if you’d like to contribute your story, please add your details here.