What Makes My Kids Cry Today

In my 40s, within just six months, I went through two miscarriages.

The first was a chemical pregnancy — the egg never attached to my uterus. Doctors spoke in medical terms, but to me, it was the beginning of motherhood all over again. I had already loved that baby, even if I only carried the hope of them for a few short days.

The second loss came differently. My baby stopped growing at 6 weeks, but I didn’t know until my 8-week ultrasound. The screen was silent. No heartbeat. My body carried that baby until 11 weeks. We later did genetic testing, which showed signs of trisomy, likely tied to my age. That gave me an answer, but not comfort. Because to me, this wasn’t just science. This was my baby.

Even as a mom to five healthy boys, these losses broke me. People often told me, “But you already have children.” And yes, I am endlessly grateful for them. But that doesn’t erase grief. Gratitude and grief can live side by side. I didn’t want a “different pregnancy.” I wanted these babies.

What made the hardest difference was words. The well-meaning but painful phrases: “At least it was early,” “You can try again,” “It wasn’t meant to be.” Those didn’t help. What did help was when someone simply said: “I’m so sorry. I’m here. Your baby mattered.”

Healing for me hasn’t meant moving on. It’s meant carrying them differently. Sometimes through journaling, sometimes prayer, sometimes letting myself cry when the grief rises out of nowhere.

I never got to hold them in my arms, but I hold them in my heart forever.

To anyone reading this who has walked through pregnancy loss: you are not alone. Your grief is real. Your love is real. And your baby mattered.

💌 If you’d like to listen to my full story, you can hear this episode on my podcast here: 🎧 The Babies I Never Got to Hold

And if you’d like to share your story with me, I’d be honored to hear it. You can reach me at whatmakesmykidcrytoday@gmail.com.

With love,

Lizzie 💜