Failure

The very definition of miscarry is to fail to attain an intended goal. Some days it is hard not to feel like I failed. I failed to provide a brother, son, grandson and nephew. I was the only protector and could not protect.   I failed at the one job I was supposed to do when pregnant, making sure the baby arrives safely.


For many reasons, some days are more difficult to see pregnant woman then other days.  I was at Target this morning and the women in front of me at the check out line looked to be about where I should have been, around 30 weeks. At that moment, it wasn't that I missed Oliver or my pregnancy (of course I do), it was that I felt like I lost the race and will never make it to the finish line.  I failed half way through and didn't want to quit, but was forced to. I envied her in that she could create and sustain life and do what her body was supposed to do.

I'm thankful that my body did exactly what it is was supposed to do once. It brought life into this world and fed my baby girl. But why couldn't it do it again?


I really don't blame myself and I know there was nothing I could have done differently, but I keep coming back to this feeling of failure. I think every woman who has gone through a loss can relate. It is just not the natural progression of things.

I have to believe that I can bring another baby into the world and when that happens I'll know that my body can provide life and sustenance. I'll feel a little less broken and know that I succeeded at my one goal, a healthy, living baby.