Almost two years ago exactly I miscarried our baby, Quinn, at 11 weeks.

Quinn would have been the fifth in our family, so we had decided to call him/her Quinn regardless of the sex, which is nice because we after losing Quinn we still had a name, a name that was his/hers from the beginning.

The pregnancy was unplanned and unexpected, we were truthfully terrified at the logistics of bringing another little one into our home. We were excited too. We told our four kids who leaped and squealed for joy, we picked out a name, and I started working on how to turn a closet into a nursery. Then, in a blink, Quinn was gone.

Miscarriage is painful. It’s a gaping wound that isn’t seen, only felt in your soul, It’s a tremendous burden that feels unbearable in its' weight. Miscarriage is a misery often suffered alone. Because we feel silly mourning a loss that others don’t consider life. We compare our pain to the pain of a mother who loses her child to cancer or some other horrific circumstance, and we resolve to suck it up because others have it so much worse. Let me tell you something loves, the pain of another woman takes nothing away from your pain and your experiences. If you shove the aching down, pretending that it doesn’t exist, because it’s not as great as someone else’s, you will never find healing or peace.

The hole left by Quinn is still (and always will be) tangible in our family.

Less of a wound now, more like a scar that aches from time to time. We talk of Quinn often. The kids are always asking how old Quinn would be now, they compare all new babies we meet to what they think Quinn would be like now. We were able to birth Quinn at home and buried her in our yard; occasionally the older two kids go out to sit by the stone that marks her grave. I can see them talking, spilling all their precious secrets to the sibling they never met but love with all their hearts and it. is. holy.

Miscarriage is not meant to be secret, your grief hidden in shame. Miscarriage forever changes you, forever changes your family, and forever changes your faith. Let your family hold you and mourn with you. Find comfort in God and let His words wash over you in a way you never experienced before. Love on the women who share your same pain, so that they know they are not alone, in the same way you are not alone.


Amber Newberry is mama to four, founder of Beautiful & Beloved, and loves speaking truth to mamas through MOPS in Colorado.  You can connect with her on Instagram or twitter @ambervnewberry