miscarriage story

“If a tree falls in a forest, does it make a sound?”

If I was asked this last Mother’s Day, I would have said, “Of course, it does.” Though my answer would have had no actual basis or reasoning other than my logical thinking, and I would have likely preceded my response with a slight eye roll coupled with a “No, duh.”

A year later, I celebrate this fourth Mother’s Day with a concrete answer.

That fallen tree damn well would have made a sound.

To question the presence of a sound questions the tree’s presence at all. And while you and I may not have seen that tree fall, or hell, ever seen the tree before at all, it does not make it any less of a tree. And when trees fall, they make a sound (no, duh).

But that sound is not just an echoing boom that lives for a few seconds – it is also the echoes of its death, the domino effect of its absence. The living tree had a presence, an impact on its environment. It supported the earth it was rooted in. It offered a home to animals and shade to plants. It was part of an ecosystem. Its death would have also had a reverberating impact. The fallen body would house different animals. It would fertilize the earth and clear way to create new life. The ecosystem would evolve from its absence, being no better and no worse from it. It would just be.

This Mother’s Day, when looking to break my 5 month blog hiatus and share the reason for my absence, I could only think of this question.

Because the past year has had its own domino effect on me.

This Mother’s Day, I am no better and no worse than last year. I just am. I am beyond happy to be 5 months pregnant. My womb is graced by butterfly kicks and little squirms. And I am still absolutely enamored by my three year old, her antics, beauty and spirit.

But, I can’t help but to think of how this holiday would have been if I did not have trees fall in my forest.

In one scenario, I would have been a mother to a one month old baby, balancing a rambunctious toddler while practicing my fourth trimester.

In another scenario, I would have been 8 months pregnant glowing in anticipation of my upcoming birth.

This Mother’s Day, I know damn well that that fallen tree would have made a sound.  Because this Mother’s Day, I carry the vibrations of two miscarriages.

I bounce between joy, grief, anxiety, and hope because those little babies left their marks. Those experiences birthed a new me – a new woman, friend, wife and mother from the pain, loss, and grief. To question the absence of those trees questions the absence of life and I know that while a life may have silently left us as it silently arrived, it does not make it any less material and it does not leave any less of an echo.


Inspiration: I had two miscarriages in 2016, and since, I have been trying to figure out how to share my story. And even before that, I have been trying to figure out why I should share it at all. I created this blog because I feel my experiences are not meant to be lived in a vacuum. While miscarriages aren’t common conversation in our society, there is so much power that comes in sharing our stories.
I have come to realize our strength as women lies so much in our abilities to handle stress, loss, and the heaviness of life. This may not be something that we realize until we experience it ourselves or see someone else go through it. I feel it is especially important for those who have experienced miscarriages to share these stories with women who have not. Those gaps in experience divide us mentally and emotionally but stories bridge those gaps.
My heart breaks for the women who experience their miscarriages silently or do not receive the support they need during that time. It is so important for us to come together and the lack of understanding should not isolate anyone from the support they need.
While no miscarriage is the same (just as no birth or death is the same), I can now say that I did not support my loved ones in a way that they needed after learning of their miscarriages. I feel guilt for that quite often and while I cannot go back in time, I hope sharing my point of view will open the eyes of others who may have friends and family going through a loss. I look to continue sharing more about my miscarriages in the future.


I write everyday because it allows me to voice what is at the surface. Once that is out of my head, I can dig in another layer deeper. My daily writing practice has been my greatest exploration of self and humanity. Sign up here to receive these thought nuggets in your inbox on the daily.