Your Miscarriage Wasn’t Your Fault


I was 14 weeks pregnant, lying on that cold, grey medical bed and it was like I had floated out my body, I could sense my husband next to me, but I was somewhere else, the room was a blur. The words still hung in the air: “There’s no heartbeat. I’m so sorry.”

I could feel Rory’s hand squeezing mine, I couldn’t mutter a single word. Rory kept asking over and over “what does that mean?”. I didn’t answer, but all I could do was stare at the blob on the ultrasound. I was sad – for us, sad for him, sad that we were no longer having another baby. Sad that we had already shared our news with parents and friends. Sad, that maybe I had done something wrong.

They didn’t give us much time to take it all in before telling us about how they were going to remove our baby from my womb,. I was booked in for the D&C in the hospital – having to wait 3 days with our motionless child still inside of me. I tried hard, so my dark thoughts didn’t take over — I wanted to blame something, someone and struggled with the term “it’s just one of those things…” I desperately wanted to know if I had done something.


 I’ve been open about my miscarriages, though this hasn’t stopped the grief from happening. I try to keep the positive thoughts going around in my head: it was not my fault, it was nothing I did.

But I’ve realised that by allowing only these positive messages in the months after my first loss, I was not letting myself acknowledge my dark thoughts. It’s OK to recognise negative thoughts. 

It’s best to confront them, challenge and get closure from them, I was able to process my thoughts and move on. 

Some well-meaning friends and family have told me it’s “a blessing” because the baby may have been poorly or that “it wasn’t meant to be.”. But what if the world weeded me out because I’m a bad mother? Or my body isn’t suited to carry any more children? What if mother nature had decided I wasn’t ever going to have another baby.


Was it that time I had a slightly too hot bath before I found out? Was that egg I ate underdone? Did that glass of wine I had 3 weeks ago do this?

Just some of my first thoughts when I finely came round to the news. Could I have done anything?

I know, realistically, that none of these things are the truth. But that doesn’t stop my guilt and my anxiety from creeping in from time to time. I’ve found it helpful saying these thoughts out loud to my husband, so I have a little backup from the wee voices in my own head. My husband is always quick to reassure me that, no, it was absolutely not because of those things or anything else I did.

Every doctor told us: “The good news is you have already got a child. So we know you can conceive. The statistics are the same for all pregnancies.” Miscarriages happen to one in four pregnancies… But with such a high number of miscarriages happening, why aren’t we talking about it more?

young children sleeping


I know that I am lucky: Rory and I were already had a beautiful daughter. I was able to fall pregnant quickly – I was told endlessly that I was I’m still young and healthy. It would happen if it was going to…

But my understanding of these things that I am grateful for stands side by side with my grief for the babies I lost on the way. 

We had 4 more miscarriages before we welcomed our rainbow baby, Cassius. He had been our “last go” before giving up and being happy as a family of 3. He was “meant” to be in our life – he is what we waited for. I’m totally biased, but he really is the coolest dude!


I send love and support to all the Mums and Dads of loss (and Grandparents and Aunts and Uncles and friends). I honestly can’t imagine the losses that other women and families have endured as from my experience everyone is different, some a little easier than others. 

Not everyone wants to tell their story. Still, I hope that by being a voice for the ones who stay silent, we can start offering more support to everyone suffering from miscarriages, no longer a taboo. 

You do not have to walk around in silence or shame. It’s natural to feel guilty, worried, ashamed, maybe even partly relieved on some days. 

You are not alone – I am one in four!


blue eyed boy