Recurrent miscarriage, no living children.

I’ve recently come across the term ‘recurrent miscarriage, no living children’  in the communities and support groups for women who go through the trauma of recurrent pregnancy loss and it resonated with me profoundly. Unfortunately, I am one of those people who is classified within this category. So I wanted to write this post today to explain why differentiating between those who have gone through miscarriage with living children and those who have come out the other side with no baby in their arms is extremely important.

There was a quote which I came across recently from a woman on an online miscarriage support forum who spoke so beautifully about the unique grief felt by mothers with no living children. She wrote “I live my life as a mother of 2 angel babies and no living children”. In attempting to explain what it feels like to have multiple miscarriages resulting in no live births, I found myself floating within her words. Since I’ve shared my story I’ve had countless women reach out to me and share their own experiences of pregnancy loss. I have valued and appreciated these women so much for sharing their trauma with me. In saying this however, I’ve not come across anyone around me who has shared that they have lost multiple babies and are still on that path of trying to conceive with no living children. 

This sensation is not uncommon with those of us who have joined support groups but have no rainbow baby to report back on. I myself struggle within these groups when other women speak about their living children or share that they are pregnant again after recurrent loss. It’s not that I feel any malice or ill will towards these women, I just can’t relate and it’s triggering for me to engage in any type of conversation because there is a sense of invisibility and isolation involved. According to the statistics, I am not a mother, I have no child by my side; but I still feel like one even though they are not with me. 

For those of us who are in the midst of infertility, of pregnancy loss, there is no guarantee on the other side that we will end up as parents. I have no experience of pregnancy or parenthood except for loss. I have no evidence that I can hold onto which indicates that I will ever experience what it’s like to be someone’s mother. And whilst I take heart in women’s stories when they share their success after miscarriage, I simply can’t relate because that is not my story right now. I don’t get to look into the eyes of another child and find solace there. Instead I am staring down a future with the potential of no child in sight. This grief, this loss is unique, it’s painful, it’s rare and oftentimes it’s invisible.

For me, the trauma involved with everything that has happened this year has presented an element of needing to let go of the things I can’t control. It’s made me understand that nothing in life is permanent or a given; and the things we have can be taken from us at any moment. After every traumatic event that has occurred this year I’ve been taught a lesson of always needing to practise gratitude and a sense of perspective. I’ve been forced to move forward in spite of the things that have happened to me. A part of moving on for me has been accepting that there is a possibility that I will always be a ‘mother with no living children’. The truth is there is no guarantee of a rainbow baby. Not every woman who loses her child through miscarriage will go on to have another child. I have learnt to accept this because I value who I am in spite of my losses. 

My body is more than a vessel. My destiny is my own in spite of whether or not I am graced by a living child. My identity is more than a potential parent, I take pride in being a wife, a daughter, a friend, a colleague, a humanitarian, a writer and everything else that I am. My heart is broken from those that I have lost and I will carry them with me forever. But I suppose a part of life is learning to live with the pain. I accept whatever is destined for me and I approach what is ahead of me with gratitude and vigour. I am more than my trauma and I promise to live a full, impactful life no matter the circumstances that await me.