November of 2014 was my third miscarriage. It was no less devastating than the first. I knew that I would have trouble with fertility, I had already been diagnosed with PCOS, but knowledge didn’t help the devastation. My fiancé at the time was my rock, despite this being his first loss. He had steadied me when I couldn’t summon the strength to draw my next breath. Then February 2015 I found out I was pregnant again. No pregnancy had lasted more than 12 weeks, and this time I didn’t get my hopes up. I hit 13 weeks. I started to think “just maybe” but still I couldn’t summon the excitement. Then at 16 weeks I still hadn’t hit a snag. I let myself get hopeful. I told my family only that I was pregnant, not how far along I was. I didn’t want to jinx it, and honestly it still felt so surreal. My fiancé, now my ex-husband, and I decided to start picking out names at 18 weeks. At 20 we found out that it was a precious little girl. Raelynn. For the first time I was able to shake the fear and the doubt and genuinely be happy. “A few more weeks” we said “A few more and we’ll tell everyone when she is due” 

Then, at 23 weeks, it happened. I woke up in pain. At first I wanted to deny it, but it didn’t go away. I woke my husband up and we rushed to the hospital. I can’t tell you how long we sat in the waiting room, I can only say how empty I felt. I knew, no matter how soon they saw me, no matter what they tried, that my baby was gone. I laid back on the ultrasound table as they slid that stupid thing across my stomach. I couldn’t bring myself to look, so instead I stared at my ex-husband. I knew, before the tech quietly turned off the machine. I saw in his face the devastation I couldn’t feel. I felt numb, hollow. 

Back in the room, the doctor came in. He was sympathetic, quiet, and told me what steps where next. I couldn’t bring myself to care. Afterwards my marriage started to fall apart, he wanted to try again. “It will happen, we can’t give up”. I just couldn’t open myself to that pain again. When I did, and we lost another two, the marriage was over. Neither of us could handle the strain that much loss put on us. We were young and honestly too selfish to put in the effort to make it work. 

It still hurts. Rae’s loss hurts the most, I know I should mourn all my children the same, but with her it was real. I felt the flutters and the kicks, I knew her gender, saw her face, I gave her a name. 

I know everyone’s opinion on this differs. But I AM a mother despite having no corporeal children. I am a mother to six angels.