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It's okay to cry for you. Always.


Beautiful, heart breaking post. I am now crying for you too.


Chantal is so right. Cry until you don't have to.


When you run out of tears, let me know, and I'll cry for you until you make more tears.

Melissa - The Sisterhood of the Shrinking Jeans

Crying is part of healing. Beautiful post.


Thinking of you. And I don't mean this as man-bashing, but I don't think men can really understand, some women, either.


I'm crying too. I'm SO very sorry for your loss; the loss of the new life you had inside you, if only for a short time, and the loss of all the other children that you will never have. (((hugs)))

I don't care how many children you have. Loss is loss is loss. And yes, even loss of possibility.

My condolences to your friend as well.

Headless Mom

I'm crying too.

Love you, friend.


I'm so sorry for your loss....cry as much as you want- sometimes that's the only thing that makes sense. (((hugs)))


I am so very sorry for your loss. Erase all that stuff from your mind about having 6 or 9 or being 40 & let your heart & mind have time to grieve this very real loss. xxxoooo


So beautifully written.

Your story echoed mine almost perfectly. I was a bit younger but still....

It's been nearly five years since my second miscarriage and nearly 10 since my first. I still tear up from time to time about it. Both came after we considered our family 'complete' and I was surprised how quickly I grew attached to a new life.

Feel free to grieve. It's so important.

Monica Bertone

I'm so sorry to hear that. I had one shortly after my first child, and I was devastated. You need to cry and let it all out. Nothing to hide, or be ashamed of... Grieve and let it all out.

The Only Girl

Hugs. And understanding. I too "lost" a baby and often wonder about what would have been. I try not to dwell on it, because I have 2 wonderful, healthy children, but you can't help but wonder.

Beautifully written.


I'm so sorry. It's perfectly reasonable to be sad about your baby and miscarriage. No matter what the other "good reasons" are for appreciating what you have and where you are...it doesn't take long to wrap your head around the idea and start having hopes and dreams as much as you think about the things you'll have to work around. I'm so sorry for your friend too - such a nightmare to carry your baby to term and leave the hospital without her.


Oh my dear. You may never totally sort out that tangle of feelings...but you know what? you don't have to.

The number of living children in a family has no bearing on grief. There's no time limit on working through that grief, either.

Contemplating the end of fertility is a loss and a grief (and a relief and a joy, sometimes) all of its own. That's a lot to deal with, emotionally. Just feel your way through it day by day. Thank you for writing about it, and sharing it.


One doesn’t replace another, they are all special to you and they are all your children. Don’t let other people get in the way of how or when you grieve. Im sorry for your loss, and the loss of your friend as well.


Your soul needs to heal - and it's normal to cry until it does.
I'm so sorry for your pain.
God Bless.

She Likes Purple

Six kids, 16 kids, one kid, no kid, doesn't matter, I think all women can relate to this a little bit. I'm thinking of you. And your friend.


It's not a numbers game; you're allowed to grieve for things and people lost, no matter how many others are in your life. People who try to brush it away with platitudes like "you already have six' (or 2. or 10. It does not matter) don't get the bigger picture. I have three siblings but that doesn't mean I wouldn't grieve hard if something happened to one of them; it doesn't matter that I have 2 more. The hole created is the same; it's the lost opportunities, the chances never to be, the wonders of what-if.

And truly, there were times I didn't want those siblings, but damn...to lose one?

The analogy is stretched thin, but the point is the same... The grief is yours to feel, no matter what anyone else thinks. And to cry for yourself in the midst of crying for your friend is necessary and compassionate, and speaks to an inner kindness that a lot of people just don't have.


I don't think I could have understood before I became a mom. We only have two kids and don't plan on having more but I can relate to the mixed feelings of dread and excitement when your period doesn't come. And then the unexpected sadness when it finally does.

I am so sorry for the pain and sorrow you must be feeling, especially since others didn't know and maybe can't relate to your grief. It's easy to say "you already have six kids!" but that's totally irrelevant. Each of them is a part of you and so important.

Wendy E

I am crying for both you and the other mother right now.


It does not matter how many children you have when you lose something you cared for with all of your heart and soul. Unconditional love is something that so sacred, and we give it to our child inside our womb almost immediately. When something like this happens, it is hard to take back that love so easily especially when you didn't get a vote or a chance to fight for it's life, something you would do with all of your children now.
It was so hard, and even 18 years later I find myself grieving for something that I could not change, and I think that is what hurts the most... not being able to save my angel. {{hugs}} to you or posting this... there are so many untold stories out there, that need to be told.


I am so sorry. It's okay to cry. For you, for your friend, and for both of your babies.


I had a stillborn baby (our very unplanned 4th child) the same day my dear friend had her 4th - a boy after 3 girls. We were walking into the hospital for the "birth", after an ultrasound gave us the awful news earlier in the day, when we ran into my friends parents, who, understandably thought we were there to see the new arrival. Ackward doesn't even begin to describe it. Even 14 years and six kids later, I still cry on Jan. 3rd (I'm doing it now even!) and I have a wee bit of trouble even today of seeing her son as a teen, just knowing... My heart and tears go out to you and your friend.


I had my first miscarriage at nineteen. Even though I knew, really truly knew, that it was better that I wasn't having a baby as a teenager with a boy who wasn't ready either, even though I acted like it was no big deal, even though I moved on and went forward with my life and got married (and had more miscarriages) and adopted two amazing little girls...even though it was really better this way, I still cried when the church had a thing in the bulletin about buying holiday flowers in memory or in honor of someone. I still know exactly when I got pregnant, when I found out, when my due date was, and when I wasn't pregnant any more. I still know how old my baby would be and I still think "So we would have had a four year old, a three year old and a two year old right now..."

I'm so sorry for your lose Carmen. My heart is aching right along with you.

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  • Carmen Staicer is a whirlwind of energy and execution, who never sleeps and drinks way too much coffee. She works from home as Social Media Programs Manager for SheKnows, and is the mom to six kids, most of whom play instruments, sing or dance and all of whom are much smarter than she will ever be. In other words, her house is never ever quiet or still. A concentration of asthma, food allergies, spectrum disorders and learning disabilities means that she spends an awful lot of time second guessing herself and Dr. Googling, as well as learning to cook everything the family might like to eat. In her spare time, she enjoys reading, boxing (she has her Black Belt in Muay Thai), sleeping, exploring coffee shops, photography, ballet class and cooking. She excels in being a smart mouth and has her major in sarcasm, with a dual minor in BS studies and avoiding laundry.