A Letter to a Pregnant Friend – Donate a Post by Lauren


April 25, 2013 by Katia

Sometimes when you blog, it feels like you’re writing into a void. I am so happy to say that the voices of the women who gather here to talk about their personal stories of miscarriage and infertility are being heard. Last week I’ve been approached by two websites, expressing an interest in this initiative. Donate a post is also being tweeted and retweeted. Those of us who’ve experienced miscarriage and struggled with fertility know how isolated we’ve felt at times. Thank you so much for sharing this content on your social media networks to help spread the word, so that others struggling with the same know they are not alone.

Today I am grateful to have Lauren from On Fecund Thought posting here about her own experience with miscarriage. Her website provides the reader with a raw and fascinating insight into the mind and heart of a woman who miscarried. It is also a great resource for other women who are going through the same.


Dear S.,

You are due exactly 2 months to the day before I was supposed to be and it makes me want to scream.  Again.

If I had the courage, this is what I would tell you to your face.

My pregnancy was longed-for and long awaited.  When I found out I was pregnant, I was ecstatic.  The month I carried the growing life inside me was one of the most contented of my life, and certainly the one that carried the most meaning.  After a tough few years, our tiny baby was the promise that everything would be alright, even if nothing was perfect.  He was our beacon and for a month his light shone bright.  And then it went out.

I bandy about phrases like “this is the biggest disappointment of my life” and “I am heartbroken,” but neither begins to describe the earth-shattering anguish I live every day.  I try not to count how many weeks I would have been (um,14 and 2 days today…) but I will always know how old my child would have been because all I have to do is subtract two months from the age of your child.

As I write this, it is the day before my 35th birthday – the cusp of that medical tipping point between being considered young and fertile and of advanced maternal age – and I am terrified.

Terrified of the thought of never being able to conceive again.  What if that pregnancy was my one chance?

Terrified that I will miscarry again.  How can I take comfort in statistics when my first pregnancy already falls into a small percentage?

Terrified I will never carry a healthy baby to term.  How would I cope?

And I fear being judged by you and other friends and family members who might not understand these powerful feelings.  How can I begin to explain them?

They are so powerful that I have to take a deep breath and turn away  when I see a pregnant stranger, and remind myself I don’t know her fertility journey.  So strong are they that I have to hide my pregnant friends’ Facebook status updates.  So very real are they that I have run from the ob/gyn waiting room and waited outside, sobbing, for anyone passing by to see.  The humiliation of bawling in public is easier to bear than emotionally torturing myself.

But your beautiful growing belly, your sweet unborn baby, and your young family are the most painful reminders of everything I have just lost.  Just thinking about them plunges me into a state of dark grief and that is why I can’t see you right now.

I can’t even promise that I will be able to visit you in hospital, knowing I would have been 32 weeks’ pregnant.  I can’t promise that I will want to hold your newborn.  I wish that I could promise you these things, to know that by the time your baby arrives I will be so past my grief that I can focus on the joy of the occasion.  I long to feel normal again, but I don’t expect to before your baby is here.

I desperately want to want to see you.  I want to be one of the first few who get to meet and hold your little one.  I want to be pregnant by August for so many reasons, one of which is to be able to fully celebrate the birth of your second child.

But there’s no guarantee that I will be pregnant by then.  I don’t want to make you feel bad in any way, so I am avoiding you.  I don’t want to interfere with your happiness or rain on your parade, so I am limiting your exposure to the envy I am so ashamed of.

Just writing these words is a powerful reminder of just how much grief I feel.  I need love, time, and space.

Forgive me.

Lauren xo


Lauren’s first pregnancy ended silently in a missed miscarriage at the end of February 2013.  She started her blog, On Fecund Thought, a few days later to chronicle the physical and emotional aspects of miscarriage as they happen.  Lauren is drawn to Buddhist wisdom and practices mindfulness to help her cope with the rollercoaster of grief she currently finds herself on.  Through her writing, she has connected with women all over the world who have come forward to say, Me too. She feels strongly that our voices be heard and that we give each other our support.  You can connect with Lauren via her blog or on Twitter @OnFecundThought.

If you would like to contribute to the series, please email me at iamthemilkblog (at) gmail (dot) com.

19 thoughts on “A Letter to a Pregnant Friend – Donate a Post by Lauren

  1. This was absolutely beautiful and could very much relate. I had a chemical pregnancy right before getting pregnant with my first and remember all too well all the feelings that went along with it. I am so sorry for your loss Lauren and know that you aren’t alone. Others like myself have been there and gone through this, too. I wish I could say or do something to make it all better, but I know better, but I will say you are truly an incredible and brave women for sharing this here and on your blog, too!!

    • Katia says:

      Again, don’t mean to steal the spotlight from Lauren, but I have to agree with the sentiments expressed here, Janine. It’s very brave of her to share and I am grateful to her for doing so.

    • Thanks for reading, Janine. It’s heartening to know that there are women out there who, like you, know the loss of miscarriage and the joy of carrying to term!

  2. Lauren says:

    Katia, thank you for the kind introduction and the opportunity to connect with your readers. I think it’s so important that the members of this sad little club stick together!

  3. […] today, I am a guest blogger over at I Am the Milk. Check it […]

  4. Celeste says:

    Lauren, this is so heartbreaking. Much love.

  5. Dana says:

    I am so sorry for your loss, Lauren, and for the grief you are experiencing. Thank you for sharing your story.

  6. Stephanie Sprenger says:

    I loved this. So beautiful, raw, and honest. Having had three losses myself, and each time teaching mommy and me music classes to rooms filled with round, glowing pregnant women, I get it. One of the worst experiences for me was going to the OB and having to sit in the same room with the pregnant women. I felt like there should have been a special room for “us”, those of us who were NOT there because we were pregnant, and NOT happy about that fact. I love this post, and will promptly follow your blog now. You are a great writer.

    • Oh, Stephanie, what a wonderful compliment coming from you! Thank you so much! Funny, I was just discussing a second room in the comments section on a recent post, One Step Back. It’s an awfully low experience, and I feel less crazy knowing that you and others have had the same flood of emotions. I can’t believe you have found the strength to teach Mommy & Me classes, I am so impressed by your resilience… Thank you for your lovely comment. x

  7. I wish every pregnant woman would be aware of what her friends might be going through . . .

  8. Yvonne says:

    Lauren, it’s okay to feel the way you do and I am sure your feelings are normal for your situation. My first pregnancy ended in miscarriage and it was very hard for me to hear about my cousin who had accidentally become pregnant just before I had. I remember when her baby was born buying a present for her and feeling like crying. It is a very hard time, so go easy on yourself. I’m so glad to see that you have Buddhist mindfulness to get you through; it is a definitely a time of grief. Yet, one of the things that helped me most was holding a friend’s baby, so emotions are all over the place.

    There’s also a good chance your friend will understand more than you’d expect and she may well feel as confused and scared as you do. At the time of my miscarriage, a friend who was pregnant confessed that she couldn’t bear to come to see me because she felt so superstitious and scared. She’d had a ectopic pregnancy years before and was by this time 41. I understood, even though I did feel a little hurt, but I understood even more when I became pregnant again and felt terrified of losing this baby.

    Try not too worry too much about your age – I can’t promise that you will be as fortunate as I was but was 38 when I miscarried, yet I have 2 wonderful daughters. (I found out I was pregnant for the second time the same day the first baby would have been due.)

    • Katia says:

      Sorry to butt in, once again, but this is such a wonderful and helpful comment. I wish someone had told me this after I miscarried. Try holding a baby. Go easy on yourself. I really find this information very useful. Thank you so much, Yvonne, for stopping by and commenting.

    • Yvonne, your kind words have brought me so much comfort. Thank you so much for validating my feelings.

      I also hadn’t considered that a pregnant woman might be terrified to see me too! Thanks for that perspective–it’s opened my eyes.

      Much love and gratitude to you.

      Lauren x

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