Most days, I am ok. Most days, they are barely a thought on my mind. Most days, I can smile.

Most days.

But some days, it just hits me.

Right out of nowhere, it grabs me, and slams me down to the floor, knocking the wind out of me.

These days, I cannot believe that I have seen such loss, that I know such grief and sorrow. That my heart knows only ache when it comes to my dreams of becoming a mother. Some days, it hits me. I am 21, and so far, have been pregnant twice in my life.

I have miscarried. Twice.

I am a mother to two angel babies.

Am I still a mother?

My biggest fear in the entire world, is to not be able to bring life into it. I truly believe that my purpose on this earth was to have children, to raise them, to comfort them, to teach them to be good people, so that they can make a difference to this world.

 And so far, up until now, this dream has been nothing but shattered. Time and time again.

I am petrified of another pregnancy, but even more petrified of another miscarriage. I don’t even believe that I could cope with another one.

I think what makes it sneak up on me is the fact that I did not really have to opportunity to have cloure. I miscarried my baby. There was nothing else to see or do after the fact. I was expected to move on. Pretend it didn’t happen. The lack of closure can be hard some days.

Some days I just simply cannot comprehend that IT HAPPENED TO ME!

It happened to me…

I am a statistic, I am a mother. I am…on a journey. I feel that it will not end until I hold a baby, my baby, safe in my arms.

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