Motherhood Revealed Through Loss

8 Comments 26 April 2012

Before becoming pregnant, I wasn’t sure if having children was in my future.

It’s not that I didn’t like kids – I did. I just wasn’t sure about a life of domestication and monogamy. I was an artist. A musician. A free spirit. I’d travel. Singin’ in the streets. That sort of thing.

But when I met Eric, ideas about my future started to change.

Slightly at first, and then all at once, everything flipped upside down.

I got (unexpectedly) pregnant. It was Fall, 2007.

It was a shock to my system.

To my whole, (self-written, not inherent) constitution. I was a smoker and a full time coffee drinker. Like, 3 o’clock in the morning at the smokey cafe writing in my journal kind of coffee drinker.

And yet, I rejoiced. I was really excited! Not to mention, surprised that I was excited! Who knew? I didn’t.

Then, just four days or so after finding out, I started bleeding.

Light at first, then more heavily, accompanied by cramping. I had been somewhere between 4-6 weeks along.

The loss hit me hard. Which also surprised me.

I was taken aback for two reasons:

#1: How could I be so upset when just a week prior, having children was nowhere on my radar?

#2: How could I be so upset about this loss when I had only known for less than a week?

Everything had changed.

I began looking at the world in an entirely different way.

Later that week I remember sitting in my car at a traffic light as two teenage parents passed on the cross walk in front of me.

The dad was rollerblading and the mom was pushing the stroller. They looked poor and dirty, and…was I judging them? Hell yes I was.

I felt like the situation was so unfair.

A major injustice had occurred.

Why couldn’t I keep my baby while their’s flourished? I’m a good person. I have a nice car and a clean apartment, a good job, supportive family. Why was this allowed to happen?

I did a lot of writing during that time, trying to manage and cope with my feelings. I’d like to share one with you.

An Understanding: The Unreal Pain

For one brief moment,
I was an aged dandelion.
I was it’s see through white phase:

Wind blew stronger
one brief
 passing moment,
 all my seeds
helicoptered away.




Like a soundless picture
of an atom bomb,
it’s destruction all too apparent
even in silence.


Sudden death.


A breeze softly sweeping
like feathers across newborn cheeks.
Like the last exhale that does not return;
stays gone.


And there is nothing I can do.


My heart goes out to all of you who have lost a baby, no matter how far along you were.

In retrospect I can see how valuable an experience my miscarriage was.

I learned a lot from it. I learned how much I wanted to become a mother.

In the Spring of 2008, I rejoiced the coming of a second pregnancy.

I was fearful though that it wouldn’t last, so we told very few people until I was a full three months along.

Today that baby is my beautiful Ella Rose, 3 years old and fit as a fiddle. Her brother is nearly 10 months.

And now, I couldn’t be happier.

When did you realize that you wanted to be a mother? Share your story below!

Your Comments

8 Comments so far

  1. Lindsay Fields says:

    This story really hits home for me. I lost my angel at 2 weeks and though few know it really has changed my view of parenthood and mothering. Thank you for writing this :)

  2. maranda says:

    Thank you for writing this. I to just experienced this. made it to 13 Weeks and and the bleeding started for me. Had a natural miscarriage at home and got to see my baby from head down to wee little toes. God works in mysterious ways. We will try again after I finish recovering from surgery. I had 2 herniated disks. Makes me wonder how that would have worked if I was still pregnant. God bless.

  3. Sarah Davis says:

    Thank you for sharing… and for reminding me of a poem I’d forgotten I’d written…

  4. Steena says:

    Thank you for sharing this Kaitlin.

  5. Emily says:

    I knew I wanted to be a mother before I even finished high school, but I also knew I had to get out there in the world and LIVE for a few years before I would have anything to really offer a child.
    My husband and I lost our first daughter at 30 weeks gestation. Her heart stopped, and no one knows why. After a painful induction, she was born silent December 2008.
    I know exactly what you mean about inadvertently judging other parents. “WHY in heaven’s name did these people get to keep their baby and we couldn’t?!”
    Happily, our marriage survived the worst of the grieving, and we continued on our path. We are happy parents of a 4 year old daughter, and her younger sister will be arriving sometime at the end of July. At 27 weeks, I find myself worrying more and more, but the kicks and punches from within are very reassuring. My midwife is extremely supportive, and has talked me through some panic attacks already. The fear never really leaves you, and you will always remember your babies, no matter when the loss occurred. My love and support goes out to each of you. Thank you so much for sharing your story.

  6. Andrea says:

    It’s so important that we talk about this and normalize miscarriage. Thanks for sharing, Kaitlin.

    I had always known I wanted to be a mother yet found myself in my mid-thirties before I found the right partner. It was always something for a couple years down the track, then in July 08 I had a really intense feeling that I was pregnant. I waited a few days and did a test and it was negative, then got my period. I was extremely sad and felt very lost because I realized in that moment that the time for having a baby was right then. No more waiting! It’s possible that I had a very early miscarriage that month, after having had one since it was all very similar. I got pregnant with Sacha the next month and was quite surprised it happened that fast. He is healthy and perfect.

    Miscarriage is a pretty amazing teacher. Having had two (one at 11 weeks, one at 4 weeks), I can say that these experiences have not only deepened my emotional range, they also pushed me to make some profound changes in how I *think* about pretty much everything. I can honestly say I’m truly thankful for these experiences. And I always remember the little ones that paused so briefly in this life before moving on.

  7. bringbirthhome says:

    Thank you, so much, for commenting. Hugs.

  8. Every time I forget what I am doing and why…I come across your profile and remember.

    You are special and precious, Kaitlin.

    Thank you for this. (((bear hug)))

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