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October is Miscarriage, Infant Loss, and Still Birth Awareness month. A lot of mothers on social media have been sharing their stories when it comes to experiencing these. Sometimes it is simply sharing a viral Facebook post, or changing your profile picture, but sometimes it’s more. This morning I saw a devastatingly tragic photo of a mother holding her just born, still born baby. You could see so many emotions that words can’t describe written all over her face. My heart is so broken for any momma who has dealt with that pain I can’t even begin to imagine.

I have been incredibly fortunate to experience two healthy pregnancies and babies, but had a brief scare when I was pregnant with Waylon. I woke up bleeding at 27 weeks and thought the worst was happening. I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach with fear. My mind was instantly flooded with thoughts of delivering a still born, or spending weeks/months in the NICU. We made a rush trip to labor and delivery only to be reassured we were both fine and everything would be ok. I can’t even begin to fathom the level of heartbreak and pain that a mom in the opposite situation would feel.

At first, when I saw that photo of the mother with her baby I got angry. I thought, “I didn’t want to see this! Who would want to see such a devastating image?!” I wasn’t alone either. Many women commented angrily requesting a cover photo or a trigger warning. But as I read the comments and the more I thought about it, I realized I may not want to see it, but I need to see it. I need to empathize with the Mommas in deep sorrow. They deserve to be seen. To be heard. They deserve to be noticed and their birth stories deserves to be told. They deserve to share their pain and grief and I admire that anyone with the courage to do so.

This space of motherhood is a space for all mothers in all circumstances. There’s not only room for happiness and celebration. There is room for grief, anger, and deep pain too.

I have no first hand experience with loss like a miscarriage or the death of a baby, before or after birth, but some of the mothers before me in my life have. I can’t help but think of them, grieve for them, and continue to honor the lives of those babies because they existed and were important, regardless for how long.

I think of my mother-in-law, Lorna. She became a mom at age 17 to a beautiful baby boy, Jonathan Wade. One morning she went to wake him from his crib, only to find him cold. Before I was a mother myself this was always a tragic and upsetting story, but after I had a baby of my own Jonathan’s story meant something deeper and it hit me on a different level. After I had Holden, I’d try to imagine that experience and think about what Lorna went through. It made me terrified of SIDS, and worried that there was a higher chance of it happening to Holden. Lorna went on to have three more sons, one of which is my husband. He tells me stories Lorna had shared with him about Jonathan. How they had a special day the day before he died where she dressed him in different outfits and just enjoyed being with him. I have mother’s day cards that the boys made for Lorna, decorated with a variety of painted hands and elementary handwriting and glued on glitter. They wrote Jonathan’s name on the card and I can’t imagine as a mother what that must feel like. To watch your other babies grow up and see a huge void where another life should be.

I think of Lorna’s mother before her, Linda, who gave birth to her first daughter who at Just 6 months gestation, was born asleep. She was only 16 years old and went to the hospital pregnant with her first baby and came home empty handed. I try to understand what happened and I ask her questions to understand the circumstances. The problem is she doesn’t seem to understand it herself. She tells me the doctors took the baby away without even letting her see her. She was young and uneducated about pregnancy and birth, and didn’t have someone to tell her that it wasn’t right. Nobody in her corner to ask her how she would want to handle a situation like that. They just told her that her daughter was “deformed,” and that is all she knows. She can’t explain what happened to her baby girl and didn’t even name her.

Linda was delivering babies pre-internet and information overload. She didn’t get to see stories of other women dealing with loss, she didn’t know that how her doctors treated her birth was a violation. It was a disgrace to the life of the baby girl she loved. I have a hard time imagining that same circumstance playing out the same way today. I assume it was just the culture of that day in age. You were encouraged to move on and leave that heartache behind. It may be uncomfortable for the some of us to deal with, but when we share our grief in public spaces it allows for healing and gives permission for others to process things that we otherwise wouldn’t know about. I think that is a much healthier way of coping wether we are the one who choses to share or not. The sharing of grief on any level helps someone else out there fell not alone.

Today the pain may be just the same, but our society has created a space for moms in grief. October is dedicated to bringing awareness to these issues. Babies gone too soon are still named, talked about, celebrated and loved. Not pushed into a memory in the back of the mind to be forgotten about.

The entire premise of my blog was built around empowering women in the realm of pregnancy, birth, and postpartum. How could I do that while expecting to not be exposed to the sadness too? How could I hope to one day work with birthing and postpartum mothers without being able to look at that kind of heartache in the face?

It may be a hard pill for the rest of us to swallow when we see the devastation on a new mom’s face as she cradles the baby she carried for months and delivered, only to go home with an empty womb, empty arms and a broken heart. But imagine how she must feel living it? Imagine how often she must see images of healthy babies, happy mothers, and births with happy endings? Imagine how she must feel carrying such deep grief, but and feeling like she is not allowed to share that story? As someone who has never experienced a loss of that magnitude I can say I will welcome the possible uncomfortable minutes of seeing a birth story with an unhappy ending because it is a disservice to mothers everywhere if we expect the mothers who don’t have a happy story to share to remain silent.

My mother-in-law passed away from breast cancer at age 38. She had an unwavering faith in God and I know when she passed she must have been looking forward to seeing that Jonathan again. I admire the strength of women who endure such a tragedy and even keep breathing because I don’t think I could recover. To the Momma dealing with that pain, I am so sorry for your loss and your hurt. I know words don’t mean much, but I will look at your pictures and read your stories, hear your words and see your tears with honor that you had the strength to share it because I know it cannot be easy. Remember that happy birth stories are not the only ones worthy of being told. Any and all emotions are valid, and worthy.

Jonathan and Linda’s baby girl may not have had a long life, but they are not forgotten by me. The impact of their lives are far reaching, as I know Jonathan’s death had to have a huge effect on Lorna’s mothering, just as Linda’s daughter’s death had on her as well.

One in four pregnancies end in a loss. Chances are you know a woman who has experienced that loss, or you have yourself. One of the best things we can do for each other is support each other and listen to the struggles no matter how big or how small. There may be many downsides to the internet, but there are some benefits to this online village. Helping another woman feel seen and hear can be so helpful while healing. Let’s remember that this October and any month of the year that we see a fellow Momma hurting.