Triggered, But Need Community

Experiencing a miscarriage can leave you feeling so alone. You can be surrounded by so much love and still feel physically alone. You feel empty. It doesn’t matter how early your baby/babies leave your body, you feel the difference when they’re gone. I felt like I was the only person who’d experienced that sort of loss and I yearned to connect with someone who knew what I was going through. My husband was the only one I could describe in detail what I was going through, but I still held back because I knew he was also grieving. 

I prayed and talked to God about the pain I was experiencing and my need to speak with someone or people who’d be vulnerable and transparent about their loss(es). Unfortunately, I had about three friends who’d experienced miscarriages before, but I didn’t want to trigger any emotions in them. They were either pregnant with their rainbow babies or trying to conceive so I kept my question to a minimum, “How did you get through the grief?”. But I craved more. I wanted to hear the details of another mother’s loss so that I could also openly share my experience with them. I needed to know I wasn’t crazy or being dramatic for responding the way I was to the death of my baby. Eventually, God would send someone my way. It was a woman I’d never met, and through an online conference. She made a comment, and I immediately put myself out there by reaching out to her. 

This was a risky conversation to have, and I talked about it with my therapist a lot. She was pregnant with her golden child (pot of gold after the rainbow), and I didn’t want to trigger her with my questions. On the other hand, I wasn’t entirely sure I was ready to hear about another woman’s traumatic loss without being triggered myself. But I needed the community. I needed the connection. My therapist coached me by saying, “You’ll never know what she’s willing to share if you don’t ask. She’ll let you know what she’s not comfortable talking about.” And wow… She was a blessing indeed. She welcomed me with open arms to a piece of motherhood that we both wish we hadn’t experienced.

Soon after speaking with her, I sought out Instagram pages and Facebook groups. I’d finally found my community, but was not prepared for how triggering it could be on certain days. I had to set boundaries and only visit those pages when I was mentally and emotionally capable of handling the experiences of the other women. There were so many willingly open to sharing their stories and I couldn’t believe it. I’m working on gathering the courage to connect with other women in person. 

If you have and/or are experiencing a loss of pregnancy no matter the way (ie. miscarriage, stillbirth, and more), if you’re trying to conceive, if you’re experiencing infertility and open to it, I encourage you to find community. While it may be triggering in many ways, you need it. You don’t wish the pain and grief on another woman, and you wish it wasn’t something you related to, but you’ll find yourself grateful you’re not alone.

Dear TJ, 

Losing you pushed me into my purpose. I wish I could’ve accomplished all these things with you here.

Love, Mommy…


Dear TJ…

Hi my baby!

Look at what you’ve inspired. The world will know your name. You are so magical even in spirit. I can’t believe I’m doing this, but you’ve changed me son. I truly wish I could be telling the world how beautiful your first steps were. I wish you were here to radiate your beautiful moonlight amongst us. I’ve learned and accepted (most days) that you were created for heaven and meant to change the world through your Mommy, Daddy, Niya, Jayla, and Tobias. Thank you for the time you tried to stay strong in me, and thank you for loving me from above. I love you so much. My heart still aches from your physical absence. My eyes still fill up with tears when I write to you.

You will never be forgotten my son. You’re forever in my heart and a part of our family.