Home is where my heart is

Sarah experienced a miscarriage at 10 weeks, during the coronavirus pandemic. Here she reflects on her feelings about her pregnancy and loss.

You had safety, you were nurtured and you belonged.

My miscarriage has re-defined the meaning of ‘Home is where the heart is’. The definition expanded as my narrative changed and I searched for the connection, the home in which my body once grew a pregnancy.

Home is a place of safety, a space where you can belong. It is a place of nurture, where hope is found in the crevasses and corners. It cherishes growth, while celebrating change. Home is a belonging that has unwavering roots. They hold strong in the moments of elation, the moments of truth and in the moments of goodbye.

As I walked through the hospital corridors where only eyes above the masks could bring me comfort I could feel the torturous seconds, the minutes and the hours pass. I craved for time to be frozen in which it would be just you and I. A continuous moment in which our home, the one that I created for you would not be disrupted.

So when our goodbye came, even the force of gravity could not keep me steady. Our home, our goodbye was determined by the the sight of a stranger, the breath they took and the words they then spoke. It was invasive and loud with the knowledge that my body only carried one heartbeat when there should have been two.

So, home is not where the heart is, in pregnancy, in loss, in miscarriage, home is where MY heart is and for 10 joyful, precious weeks it was your home too.

You had safety, your were nurtured and you belonged. The goodbye will never erase this and it shall never be lost. Instead it cements a pause, so that time can be given for our roots, our home to welcome again.

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