14 April 2016

Wounds of My Womb, Part 1: Conscious Pregnancy, Divine Love and Broken Hearts

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This is Part 1 of a 5-Part Blog Series

As I sit here, perched on my stool at our big wooden table on our deck, there is reverence in the air. The sun’s hitting the abundant greenery that envelops our treehouse, there's the slightest breeze moving through me, and the sweet sounds of my friend Tahlee’s Surrender Spotify playlist are softly playing.

For the last 5 minutes, I’ve been smudging sage in this space, guiding the sacred smoke into my computer with the help of a beautiful feather – a gesture that almost feels a little desperate. Please, computer, write all this for me today incase I just can’t. I have sodalite stones scattered around me, for a little throat-chakra support, and my beautiful deck of Rumi Oracle cards, gifted to me recently from women I love, sit to my right.

I guess I’m going to all this trouble to create such ritual because I sense that what’s about to tumble out may not be easy for me to remember, write about and publish. Maybe taking this pause, and burning this sage will help me to fully acknowledge that I’m about to humbly offer up these stories from a place of absolute and unconditional love to myself, to you, to all women yearning to mother in some way (in case the title of this blog series didn’t give the topic of conversation away already).

As often happens when I shuffle this deck of cards, one decided to jump on out and land in front of me, and as always happens when when one jumps out and lands in front of me, the counsel I just received from it is beyond poignant.

This card in particular is called: From Nothing To Everything, and here is a short excerpt.

O my friend,
if you are longing to be written on,
become a blank page!

— Rumi.

Have you been shedding your skins, your layers, your certainties? Gone are fixed identified and definite options! Keep casting those aside and, even if you fear you are releasing too much and then, perhaps, you shall cease to exist! You shall only cease to exist as you have known yourself to be thus far. Another emanation of you awaits, blazing angel! Something more beautiful and true.

And with that, I think I should just bloody get on with it.

I am so sorry if what you read here upsets you. I’m sorry if it brings up painful memories for you that you’d rather not look at. And I am so, so sorry if anything I write goes against your core values and beliefs (particularly if they are religious). When we start having conversations about conception, pregnancy, loss and birth, the tone can quickly become political or over-peppered with opinions, and sincerely, that is not the space I’m holding here.

In sharing what’s to come – although it may seem like a completely selfish and awkward purge of emotion and pain – I actually sit at my laptop this morning with a goal of nothing but union. I know now more than ever that as women, we can stand gracefully united in this space, witnessing one another’s pain and reflecting one another’s light. This kind of deep and searing feminine suffering is so rarely written about at length, and my concern is that many of you may feel alienated by the (beautiful) stories of other’s positive (pregnancy, birth, etc) experiences. Of course, we need those stories, so if you’ve had one, please keep sharing it, because we need that grace and joy and gratitude to shuffle itself around the collective consciousness, but to those of you who have not been so destined as yet, one thing is for sure, you certainly need to be seen, heard, and held in some way.

Allow my story to hold you in whichever way you need, if only to let you know that you are not alone. (You are so not alone)


I have always wanted to be a mother. Actually, ‘wanted’ isn’t the write word, more like, yearned.

Although in total honesty, years ago when my priority was in getting right royally shit-faced as often as I could, I think I did a pretty good job at distracting myself from that yearning, and rather, convincing myself that ‘meh, kids, shmids.’ I mean, when everyone around you is ripping up the dance floor, it’s rather uncool to start breeding, right?

wounds of womb

Nonetheless, I have always adored children. The oldest of my siblings and cousins, I revelled in holding babies in my arms from the moment I was able to. When both my brothers were born - one when I was 2 1/2, the other when I was 13 - I pretended they were mine. 'I’ll change his nappy!' was a favourite and enthusiastic mantra, and I sincerely loved doing just that. Every Christmas, when our rather huge extended family communed and I would once again be in the company of my precious little cousins, after seeing that they’d grown exponentially in the last year, often I would sneak away and cry little tears because I wanted them to be small again. I knew that the older they’d become, the less they would want to sit on my lap and laugh as I pulled funny faces at them.

The mother is in me. I have always felt her.

When I started doing deep soul work with Belinda Davidson in 2013, the first of my twelve Soul Essences revealed herself as the reverent Holy Mother, and when I saw her, or more accurately, felt her, I felt swallowed whole by Love itself. It was such a familiar and all encompassing love to me, and I felt very much at home wrapped up in it, despite having a challenging relationship with my own mama for much of my early life. Mama and I are close now; we continue to heal our mother-daughter wounds which were undoubtedly inherited from the women that came before us, and I truly believe that much of this healing we’ve experienced has been intensified by my own journey of attempting to create a grandmother out of her – an identity I know she aches for, though she would never say so out loud.

But just to rewind briefly, to my early twenties.

I meet the man of my dreams in 2009, we start traveling the world and not 18 months later, marry on top of a mountain in 2011. We don’t talk much about starting a family because we’re too busy snowboarding and drinking gin with mandarins and squeezing the goodness out of every damn moment, as people who are stupidly in love with no where in particular they need to be tend to do.

Early in our relationship, it becomes apparent that things ‘down there’ aren’t... functioning optimally. As so many women experience, I get some not so pleasant pap smear results, words like ‘pre-cancerous cells’ and ‘endometriosis’ start being thrown around and the whole thing is just far too uncomfortable to fully acknowledge, so I continue to travel, and snowboard, and party, sometimes bleeding for 2, 3, 6 weeks at a time, all the while, turning a blind eye.

But – long story short – as I continue to deepen my meditative and yoga practices, and especially once G and I settle a little here on the Gold Coast, slowly but surely my attention starts drawing inward; away from the world out there, and towards what I'm feeling and experiencing within, in my pelvis, in my womb.

My work with Belinda highlighted an absolute need to do some deep sacral chakra work in healing my reproductive organs, and so for the next two years, I meditated, I practiced mindfulness, I practiced feeling into my womb, I worked closely with the best damn naturopath ever and ate and drank and popped whatever herb she suggested. Becoming pregnant wasn’t an option for us during this time; the growth hormones from pregnancy could accelerate the pre-cancerous cells (which still offered us a little time), and potentially rapidly promote them to cancerous ones. The ‘c’ word is a very scary word.

Many pap results came back with the same disheartening news and each time my GP (I was constantly changing them up in an attempt to find someone I felt a connection with) would say - ‘let’s cut / laser / remove what’s in there.’ My gut said no, and so that’s what I said - ’no. not yet.’ Once, after I explained to a receptionist on the phone that I’d like a little more time before going under the knife, she flat out said: ‘What on earth are you thinking!? What if you get cancer?!’ which I thought was highly insensitive and inappropriate and so responded with ‘Fuck you!’ and hung up, before my whole body burned red with anger.

Finally, we end up in the office of a very sweet gynaecologist - around February 2015 - and we go through the process again, only to be called back a fortnight to hear the news my pap results were totally normal. Egg count might be down for my age, he said, but my cervix? Ready. 'Try for six months. If you don’t have any luck, we’ll look at surgery.'

I choked up and tears sprung into my eyes and my voice. All that work I did with my mentors; the meditations, the herbs, the energetics… it worked. That inner voice guiding me… it was right. And now it was safe to try for children. And not only was my cervix ready, but I was ready. I was yearning again.

The very first time I ovulated after that meeting with the gynaecologist, we conceived.

I walked out of the bathroom like a deer caught in headlights, and impatiently waited for that second little blue line to reveal itself (it took far longer than the advertised three minutes), and when it did, I quite literally dropped to my knees and bawled my eyes out, with the loving arms of man wrapped around me.


What unfolded from there were some of the holiest memories I have. I could almost feel little bubbles of love popping inside me constantly, with the knowingness that our miracle was in my belly, growing, making a mama out of me, making everything in my life more vibrant and bright and vivid. You often here expectant mamas speak of these precious first few weeks as though they’re the keeper of the world’s biggest and most beautiful secret. I felt that. Everything was staggeringly stunning to me, everything, made more meaningful by this rite of passage of growing a human within.

A delightful highlight of this time was how held I felt by the teachings of Kundalini Yoga. This yoga absolutely reveres the mother, and even has conscious pregnancy courses that support women with the wisdom to parent mindfully; women who desire to bring a sacred energy into the experience of mothering, but have forgotten, probably due to a society that over-emphases the importance of buying the best pram or having the most trendily decorated nursery. (Nothing wrong with those things, of course) I resonated deeply with the teachings and my spiritual practice was renewed with the following:

+ I would sit at the beach in the morning (the ocean always reminds me of the great mother), and holding a cupped hand to my ear, so as to hear ocean sounds, similarly to when you hold a large conch shell to your ear, I would chant the sweet sounds of Maaaaaaaaaa.

+ I would write letters to my baby. I would journal to my baby. I would turn to my baby for guidance.

+ I made playlists for my baby. For the pregnancy. For the birth. For her first 40 days earth side. I always sensed she was a girl.

+ In the evenings, I chanted a sacred shabd to attract the soul of a saint into my body. It sounds pretty fancy, but really, it just felt lovely to do it –all those wonderful Gurmukhi sounds rolling off my tongue and into the soul of my beloved little one.

+ I fed my body nutritious food and ate mindfully, I reached out to an old friend of mine and asked her to be my doula, I ripped through birthing books and documentaries and podcasts and landed very, very peacefully at the realisation that I craved a home birth, with mantras playing, essential oils wafting through the air, the atmosphere gentle, quiet, loving.

I couldn’t wait to birth our little girl, but was revelling in every single precious glorious moment that came alive with the gift of being pregnant.


A miscarriage was the last thing I was expecting.

At nine weeks, as I lay there in the emergency department at 5am after waking up to too much blood to be comfortable with, I was THISCLOSE to saying to the doctors, 'Sorry for taking up your time. Now that I think about it, I’m probably totally fine and the bleeding’s most likely just from sex.'

My ex was optimistic too. ‘You’ll be okay, babe.'

I mean, it felt as those the seas and the skies fucking parted to make way for this pregnancy. The stars were aligned. The timing was right. You know how they say that you’re never really ready to start a family? Bullshit! I was ready.

But finally, in a very humiliating fashion, I'm escorted into the dark screening room via wheelchair. I hop on the bed, cold goop is squirted onto my belly, and the search begins.

Where are you, little one? Where is your heart beat?

I think back to a similar situation that was unfolding six years ago; too young, naive, drugged and in way too much denial to fully confront and accept my situation at the time - that I was pregnant to a man I had broken up with and in no position to become a parent - and the sonographer said, with a smile, ‘Would you like to see your baby?’ I turned my head away from the monitor and shook my head no. I terminated soon after.

But here I was, eyes darting around the screen. Where is your heart beat? Where is your heart beat?! I love you little one, I can see you there, where is your heart?!

The beautiful old German lady to my side, who like me, was searching hard with a furrow in her brow, eventually slowly put the equipment down. In a moment where most would uncomfortably say, ‘I’ll go and get a doctor and I’ll be right back,’ instead, she reached out to me with both hands to touch me and offer her love through her softened, sad eyes, and in that moment, beyond all the hope I was clutching onto, I knew. Little tears dropped their way down my cheeks at first, before I erupted into a panicked sob that made it difficult for me to breathe. 'I’m sorry sweetheart,' she kept saying.

Howling on the inside, grabbing at my belly, I am wheeled back to my husband. When he sees me, the colour drains from his face, he mouths ‘no’ in a hopeless way and collects me into his big strong arms in an attempt to steal away some of my pain.

The places the mind goes

One day there was life within me, and the next, I was watching it all empty out of me, into the toilet, to be flushed.

One day I was a mother, the next, not.

I watched my swelling breasts deflate with the evidence that my baby was gone.

My belly slowly became trim and toned rapidly and I hated that. I wanted to be round, and growing, and full.

Everywhere I looked was proof of how excited I was to become a mother - altars all over the house, supplements to support baby’s growth, journal entries, crystal grids…

I contemplated why some women are passed the baton into motherhood with such utter ease, and yet others struggle so fiercely. (Hint: don’t contemplate this too long. Do not ask why. You will never find the answer. Asking too much hurts too much)

I drowned in my own grief for a week, barely leaving bed, often crying into ex-husband's chest.

'As soon as you’re ready, we’ll try again,’ he said.

He was so wonderful.

Back in the light

When enough life returned to make me want to rise up live again, naturally, being me, I woke in the dark of the early morning, walked over to the beach, and waited.


What I saw that morning was the most incredible sunrise I have ever seen in my life. The entire sky was magenta and electric violet, made all the more dramatic by a thin layering of cloud. I looked out over the ocean and heard myself saying out loud as I gazed into the sun...

‘There’s my baby. There she is. Back in the light.’

And for the first time in a week, I cried happy tears, knowing that my baby was still inside me and would continue to warm me and guide me, just like the morning rays.

A mere few hours later, my phone beeped with a text from my beloved teacher, Adi Shakti. In it, she shared a dream she had in the wee hours of the very same morning. Her and I were sitting together, on a hill, watching the sunrise together. She told me that my baby was in the sun, and that she had a message for me. ‘Thank you for pouring so much love into me through the pregnancy. Your love has liberated me and returned me to the light.'

Fair to say I could speak or move for a while out of sheer holy reverence; out of the penny dropping; the realisation that there is more to mothering than giving birth. That there is more to loving a child than having one.

This experience gave me such a clearer understanding of the Soul (that’s a paradox, I know, the soul is beyond all understanding), of the cycles of life, of karma. To be told through the landscape of a sacred dream that my act of loving had cleared the karma of this being and freed them back into the brilliance of The White was, well, an honour, to say the very, very least.

I still cry tears today when I consider how privileged I am - despite the outcome - to have loved so deeply.

Everyone copes differently with grief

Some people shut down and struggle to fully feel.

Others seek out all the people they need and surround themselves in the support they need.

Some struggle to lift themselves up out of the underworld and continue to feel all the pain for a long, long time.

Some seek solace in escapism - the bottle, the television, through their work. I think that's what I did.

When I lost my baby in 2015, after the initial shock and pain subsided slightly, my way of coping was to ensure that I kept myself so fucking busy that I don’t know how I made it to the end of 2015 without having a breakdown. Then again, I very well may of had one. Perhaps I kept myself too busy to notice.

My collaborative business exploded (grateful), I travelled around Australia hosting writing workshops (grateful), we moved house (grateful), I continued blogging (grateful), I toured the country with the Utopia wellness event (grateful), we launched Let Us Feed You Organics (grateful), I completed my Kundalini Yoga Teacher training (grateful) and begun teaching it (grateful).

Gosh. I’m tired just typing that.

I just kept going.

I displaced the purpose I was looking forward to in becoming a mother and instead tried to pour meaning into my work, which isn’t all bad I suppose, as everything was a delight and a pleasure, but I was well aware that I was bypassing much of my healing process by cramming my existence with appointments and calls and goals and achievements.

When things got too frantic, a few things brought me back into my heart.

My darling. A few very beautiful friends. And, since October, Layla.

In the next post, Part II of this series, I’m actually going to write about Layla in more detail.

Yes. Layla. Our rescue pup.

She has a starring role in this story and our gorgeous Ridgeback Staffy hybrid needs a post completely devoted to her and the healing she has brought into our lives. You’ll need your kleenex, I predict.

Friends, I would love to tell you that the heartache ends here, and that the rest of this 5-part series is devoted to love beams and fairy dust, but alas, it’s not. We’ve barely scratched the surface of these womb wounds yet. That’s kinda why I need five posts… we need a little wriggle room to unravel all this. I hope you’ll be patient with me.

Now, do I invite you to write in the comments? Do I ask you to share this post with your friends? I think I must.

In the spirit of keeping the intention of this series alive — to unite all women and to give those that have struggled to find their voice through their pain a warm and tender embrace, yes, please do. Share it, send it to a friend you know needs it, and if you need your own story heard, there is space for you down below.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. For offering me this space.

And finally, if you need to hear this today, here it is:

You do not need a baby in your arms to know you are a mother at your essence. I honour the mother in you. The beautiful, great, divine, all-loving mother that you are. You are not broken. I love you.

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    • 14 April 2016

      Tears... So many tears.. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing this babe. I don't even know what to say. But this part -

      "I still cry tears today when I consider how privileged I am – despite the outcome – to have loved so deeply."

      .. THIS is what you have instilled in me and so many other woman you have touched. This reverence, this gratitude and honour for LOVE in all its forms. Thank you for being a beautiful light in my life xxx

    • 14 April 2016

      Oh babe. I've needed the Kleenex already (no surprises there). I'm so grateful that you are sharing this, and I love that beautiful intention you have brought to it. This whole topic makes me uncomfortable in ways I'm so not ready to share but I definitely feel that the 'other side' of the story is so necessary. Big love. Always.

    • 14 April 2016

      Love you. xxx

    • 14 April 2016

      So much love to you Tara. So much.

      I can't wait to hear more about your sweet Layla.

    • Zoran
      14 April 2016

      I love you Tara. This will make you an even stronger mother when the right time comes... I have close friends who had exactly the same thing happen to them... Now they have 3 kids :-) And, in the meantime... The mother archetype is always there to emulate and manifest, kids or no kids... You are already a mother, healing your children, us, the readers through your blog. We are here with you, sharing the same space. Thank you for letting us in. Mother

    • 14 April 2016

      My heart aches for you dear Tara. You are so brave to share this with us. We love you ♡♡♡

    • 14 April 2016

      Your writings are a gift beautiful woman. I've missed them. And your intention for this series will definitely be fulfilled - women need these kind of stories. Deep healing will happen.

      Sending you {and every other woman who is moved deeply by this series} big love XO

    • Serena
      14 April 2016

      Tara, this is a beautiful post, had me in tears. I lost my first pregnancy back in 2009 right before Christmas and that was the hardest most gut renching time/feeling I have ever been through mainly because I didn't just miscarriage one baby but two. I'm so grateful that those two precious souls came into my life, and that even though one passed away before the other that the second one choose to go with its sibling.

      I now have 3 special little people in my life who bring me such joy and love. And one of which is a rainbow child.

      Thank you for sharing your story it's a beautiful one.

    • Loren
      14 April 2016

      Oh wow Tara, you wrote this beautifully! Thank you for being real and vulnerable in sharing your story. I KNOW this will help so many women heal their wombs, myself included. Thank you, from the bottom of my heart. Im sending you lots of love and light xxx

    • 14 April 2016

      Sending love to you, Tara. I had a miscarriage, too, and I can totally empathize with how you're feeling. Kisses and warm wishes.

    • 14 April 2016

      Thank you for sharing this Tara. So much heart and so much love and truth. Sharing this with every woman I know! Grateful for your truths ???

    • 14 April 2016

      Actually cried so much reading through this, sending big love and light ✨ ✨ xx

    • Alli
      14 April 2016

      Thank you Tara for sharing your story, I can feel the pain and heartache you've experienced.
      I've had my fair share too, I'm one of those who is still on the rocky road to fertility and motherhood.

      To cut a long story short, just to share a little with you, my partner and I had been trying to conceive for quite a few years (I was dx with endometriosis when I was 24) and decided to go down the ivf pathway, a true emotional roller coaster ride that was, anyhow we were unsuccessful after 2 attempts. I was completely shattered and heartbroken and grief stricken, and out of money to do any more rounds...I was brought to my knees.
      I completely gave up, let go and decided that I couldn't take anymore and to just get the hell on with life, a baby wasn't going to complete my life, I was complete already......and as everyone says, once you stop thinking about getting pregnant, it will probably happen..so in Nov 2014 my period was 2 weeks late, I kept thinking it must be my hormones out of wack. ..but I finally found the courage to take a test thinking it would be negative after so many negative tests..so I did the test with no hope or expectation, and it was positive! My response was 'maybe the test is faulty or not right', I couldn't believe it. I could feel that same sense of love but also with an underlying cautiousness as I didn't want to get my hopes up, I didn't want to allow myself to be happy yet, I almost expected disaster and heartache.
      And as you can guess I was right, 2 days after Christmas I woke with excruciating pain on my left side, and my partner was optimistic but I knew deep down it wasn't right. We went to the emergency room and was told it could be an ectopic pregnancy, I was about 8 weeks. So I spent 4 days in hospital, spending new years in hospital while miscarrying is not the nicest way to bring in the New Year. So fast forward to now, I'm in a great place, focusing on my health and fertility, trying to really heal my endometriosis with natural methods and not focusing on babies, feeling a sense of acceptance that I might not have my own children and been ok with it, i have 2 nieces and nephews that I love dearly. I'm trying to live each day with an open heart.
      sorry my story was meant to be short!
      Thank you again for sharing and giving us the opportunity to share our stories.
      Much love

    • Ofa
      14 April 2016

      Lots of tears reading this. So raw and beautifully written. This touched me deeply as this was very similar to my experience last year. We continue to be mothers to our beautiful angel babies.

      Thank you for putting into words all of the emotions that go with an experience like this. Thank you, Tara, for being so real.

      So much love and light to you xx

    • Clare
      14 April 2016

      Beautiful Tara- thank you, thank you, thank you. I am so sorry for your loss. My husband and I lost two babies in 2015- one in January, and one in June. We have had trouble conceiving again, and are now going down the path of testing. I feel as though I need to read this as much as you need to write it. The grief, and this journey has been so much bigger and more challenging than I ever could have imagined. If one of your aims was to help women feel held and less alone, you are succeeding. Thank you so much x

    • 14 April 2016

      Thank you for sharing so openly and vulnerably. There were parts where it took me back to my journey of infertility and I definitely struggled fiercely in those 3 years before I made peace with it. Beaming you love and light right now.

    • 14 April 2016

      "You do not need a baby in your arms to know you are a mother at your essence. I honour the mother in you. The beautiful, great, divine, all-loving mother that you are. You are not broken. I love you."

      Lucky I was reading this at work or I would have cried like a baby. I have spent two years and counting with Endometriosis two ovarian cysts removed in two separate surgeries and now I feel the all too common pain coming back into my ovaries once again.

      The emotional pull at the first two surgeries where Iw as with someone who did not support my dreasm of becoming a mum. Now I am with the man of my dreams and he isn't quite ready. I am so desperate to start trying just in case it is a struggle. I don't yet know if it will take me years or whether I will be pleasantly surprised. I don't want to wait any longer.

      My biggest fear in life is never getting to be a mum.

      It scares me each time I write that. It breaks my heart to think Endo might cause things to be more difficult. Thank you to be so brave as to start sharing this story so openly for those of us who so desperately need to here it.

      "You do not need a baby in your arms to know you are a mother at your essence. I honour the mother in you. The beautiful, great, divine, all-loving mother that you are. You are not broken. I love you."

      These words will hold me. I am a mother at my essence. I can't wait to honour that. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for sharing and I can't wait to read and learn and connect more with your story xox

      • 14 April 2016

        Thank you for sharing this! This had me as emotional as Tara's story. Sending so much love you way!

    • LB
      14 April 2016

      I understand, so very much, I too always wanted a baby, I started with a miscarriage and an ectopic pregnancy - where they terminated it for me, it was that or bleed to death internally. Nothing sticks to your memory than the moments of those around you. When I was lying prepped for my ectopic pregnancy to be removed, the anaesthetist before he put me under said to me 'Why are you crying, are you in pain?' I said 'It's the loss', the doctors assistant then glided into the room, beautiful Swedish angel, no words or questions, she just held and rubbed my hand as I went under, she understood, that is one of the most powerful memories I hold. I now have the joy of having a beautiful son after many fertility treatments. I have a strong feeling that these experiences have made me a more conscious loving mother, daily I am thankful for the joy that has been brought into the world by my son, I am soft with him, caring, soul tied to this boy and so completely present with him as much as I can be. I don't know if would have had this way if it hadn't been for the struggle. Thinking of you xo

    • 14 April 2016

      Thank you Tara. Such an important story to share, so much deep healing for all of us who have been there or are going through this right now. I'm grateful to have been able to carry so many beautiful souls in my womb, if only for a short time and I'm honoured that just one chose to come into my life and stay. She's my light and my life. My miracle. I wish the same for you lovely lady and so so much more xx

    • Mandie
      14 April 2016

      You write from your heart, from your soul...such a beautiful gift to treasure. We do all have stories, and yours stirs inside of me and will carry me through a journey today. Thankyou gorgeous, beautiful being for sharing and for sending your love out into this world. Love and light xxx

    • Tracey
      14 April 2016

      Oh Tara, as tears stream down my face.....you have always written so beautifully and this is no exception.....I feel you and although I have never met you, I love you.....thank you so much for sharing.....sending you so much love......I honour the beautiful mother in you....xx Tracey

    • Sara
      14 April 2016

      Hi Tara,

      I never comment on blog posts but felt I needed to let you know how moved I was by this. Hearing all your feelings made me sob....my story is a bit different however.

      I am currently 30 weeks pregnant with my first, very wanted bub, and fortunate enough that it is so far complication free. Like you, we fell pregnant first time we tried and I was shocked but ecstatic.

      Unlike you though, I haven't exactly embraced pregnancy with grace and love...for me it has felt like an uncomfortable, anxiety provoking experience, something to be endured that will hopefully lead to a wonderful outcome...the negative feelings escalated over the last few months until I found myself sobbing in my car on the way to work, turning off and taking a different route that led to a GP (not even my GP, just the nearest one I could find), and begging the receptionist to slot me in for an appointment. Seeing how distressed I was, she did so right away and and a kind, old male doctor escorted me into his office. It all came out....the fear, the sadness, the complete sense of disconnectedness, the hopelessness, the guilt.....and he pretty swiftly diagnosed me with antenatal depression (which I didn't even know was a thing).

      I started an antidepressant and am about to start seeing a perinatal psychologist and for the first time in months and months I feel a glimmer of hope and sometimes even joy. There are still dark days, but they are spread out amongst good days where I can function and smile and laugh. As someone who is all about a healthy holistic lifestyle, and a natural approach to pregnancy and birthing, I never in a million years thought I would take a prescribed medication during pregnancy. And yet here I am feeling so grateful that such help was available during what felt like a desperate time, and I have actually found it really humbling.

      I still have the overwhelming fear that I may sink back into a hole once my baby is born, but I have an unbelievable support network and the doctor is confident that as the medication builds up in my system I will feel more and more balanced. It finally feels like things might actually be ok, maybe even wonderful.

      I'm not sure why I felt compelled to share this, but I think I just wanted to let you how inspired and awed I am by the beautiful connection you fostered with your little one. You are right, you are truly blessed to have felt that, and she was truly blessed to have you as her loving mama.

      Thank you for reminding me of what a blessing this experience truly is, even when it doesn't feel like it. And to focus on what's important, not all the superficial crap. I really look forward to following your journey and wish with all my heart for a beautiful ending for. Thank you so much for being brave enough to share.

      Sara xx

      • 14 April 2016

        Hi Sara, I'm really glad you shared your own experience. Look - you were brave enough also. What a post hey? X

      • angela
        15 April 2016

        Oh sara i feel you on this topic. I completely felt the same & everyone said you will love it once its in ur arms.
        Truth is, i still didnt get that full love moment. I searched and searched but i was exhausted. I was overwhelmed with this tiny little girl and my partner did all her first baths, nappies cuddles while i tried to breastfeed and get a hold of that. When lily was around 5mths old i looked at her and just cried. It hit me. I absolutely love this little human and i felt everything that everyone said i would... just a little later.

        Please try to release your anxiety and stress. If doesnt come straight away.. thats okay too. Your are not alone.

        Best wishes for birthing your precious baby

      • Liz
        16 April 2016

        Thanks for sharing your stories Tara and everyone. A huge thank you to Sara - your story made me brave enough to share mine.
        Unlike many women, I have never wanted to have babies (I think I was 3 when I first told my mum that). I like kids, I enjoy their company and view on life, but not enough to have one myself. I know I'd be a good mum (and many like to tell me that to help cure me of my no-child status) but it's just not something I want. However, it didn't make it an easy decision. And on some level I thought I would get over it. When I turned 30 I waited for the hormones to kick in like I was told them would, they didn't. When I was 35 I was reminded often that 'the clock was ticking', I didn't hear it. But on some level, I believed that if it did happen it would be okay. I have a wonderful partner who would make a great dad and we would make it work.

        Last September after a day of chronic pain that felt like my entire pelvic floor was in spasm, I did a pregnancy test on a friends advice. The two lines were terrifying. As I showed my partner, I apologised because it wasn't something we had planned. I figured we would be okay, but for two days we talked round and round in circles, until I woke up that morning shaking and sobbing and chanting 'I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this.' That afternoon, after a very hard counselling session I talked to my baby and asked it to move on and find parents who would love it and want it. That afternoon the pain built up to a crescendo and I started to bleed. The relief was overwhelming.
        I went to the doctor the next day and was confirmed as having a miscarriage.
        For 12 days I bled on and off, pain came and went. I had two doctors appointments and further blood tests, which showed abnormalities. I was sent for a scan, but my doctor was still telling me that I may just have 'some retained product' so I wasn't worried about anything else. At my scan things started to unravel. I was rushed immediately to hospital with my kidneys packed in blood and an ectopic pregnancy that 'wasn't resolving itself' and was very close to rupture. I didn't even know what an ectopic pregnancy was, let alone what the symptoms were (turns out I had 4 of the 6 for nearly 2 weeks!).
        The following day I had surgery to remove my right fallopian tube and the pregnancy. I have never felt so broken and so wrong in all my life. Here I was, pregnant with a baby I didn't want and now I was being punished.
        Here I had to confront my fear of needles, of hospitals, of surgery and of pregnancy. I got through my surgery and was sent home the next day.
        What I didn't expect was the trauma and hardship of it all afterwards. For days I cried as I mourned for me, for a baby who wasn't wanted, and for all those women who had lost babies either via miscarriage, ectopic, stillbirth or cot death. It was like I fell into a stream of universal mother grief and wallowed there for quite some time.
        My surgery was followed by post op infections, severe anaemia, hormonal imbalance, and (not suprisingly) adrenal fatigue. It's been nearly 7 months and the hardest time of my life. What this baby has allowed is for me to delve deep into the beliefs and reasons for my decision around children and start to really understand what has driven them and to make peace with them. It's a journey and some days are easier than others, but I"m getting there.

        Prior to this experience I didn't know that nearly 30% of all pregnancies end in miscarriage or an ectopic. This is huge We don't talk about it enough. And because we don't talk about it, we can't support each other through the journey. It's hard. It's the loss of a promise of what could have been. And crazy hormones are hell. I believe we need to talk about these experiences more openly and honestly because we are not alone in it and it shouldn't feel like we are.

        It's been an incredibly lonely journey for me. It turns out I know quite a few people who have suffered with an ectopic pregnancy. They have gone on to have healthy babies after the event. While I am incredibly glad for them, it hasn't made my journey any easier. No where out there could I find anyone who had gone through something similar who hadn't wanted to be pregnant, who doesn't want children. While my friends, family and partner have been incredible support, for a long time it reinforced how different I feel. I have two of my closest friends having babies in the next week. They are 3 weeks ahead of where I would have been and it's been a total head fuck to watch them progress in their pregnancies - it's been like an alternative reality play out of 'this is the life you could have had'. I am happy for them and never expected these emotions or how hard it is to listen to the conversations and changes they are going through that I don't have children, I will never have.

        This pregnancy of mine, this baby, has been a blessing in that it has allowed me to process so much grief and guilt and fear and mourn a path I am choosing not to take. Because it's not an easy decision to fly in the face of biology, of society, and to be different (by choice, not circumstance).

    • Sandra
      14 April 2016

      God bless you for sharing this.

    • 14 April 2016

      Thank you for speaking your story, dear heart. I am so grateful for you and your strength being seen like this.

    • Jill Underwood
      14 April 2016

      I am writing to you from Akron, OH in the United States.
      I'm 39 and undergoing fertility treatments with no luck so far. I've had the pre cancerous cells and endometriosis like you. Thank you for your story. I long to be a mother but must admit I'm losing faith and hope. Be well, be blessed Tara! Live and light from afar......Jill

    • Lucinda
      14 April 2016

      So beautifully written Tara and made me cry. Lots of love and light to you always. You are just beautiful and such an inspiration to me always. Lucinda xxx

    • Lauren
      14 April 2016

      Tara this has stirred such deep emotions. The longing for a child is all encompassing. I heard your story, my own, my friends and so many other sisters unknown in body but deeply in spirit.
      "You will never carry a child" they said. I was sixteen, still a babe myself. Yet the deeper knowing was that one day I would experience the goddess journey of The Mother. I too met my soul mate, threw caution to the wind and chemically altered my state - such fun, wasn't it? Or so I was fooling myself to numb such deep pain and longing.
      Through the years many little lives briefly began, then ended. I finally began to feel expressed as a mother when my four legged little lady came into our lives. She is still "our first". Such unconditional love. Such connection.
      At 33 I did become the mother of a human babe. Pregnancy was a delirious and magical experience I savoured. Trying to relish and remember every moment. I was where I was meant to be.
      During a long and arduous birth, my little one entered the world without a breath. At that moment I completely released all focus on the outcome and surrendered to the will of the universe. The hardest day here so far, without question. After a month of medical miracles, I took home a perfect little baby. He is nine months old. You are not alone. You are held so dearly in so many hearts. All my love and light to you beautiful, courageous and generous one. Thank you xxxxx

    • Buffy
      14 April 2016

      Tara, thank you. Thank you. Thank you. For everything. For sharing. For just being you. Sending you and Glen so much love. xxx

    • 14 April 2016

      This is beautiful Tara. I can relate to much of this. Our pooch, Poncho, was absolutely instrumental in my healing process. I look forward to reading more. Thank you for sharing this series so eloquently. Much love to you. Rachel xx

    • 14 April 2016

      Lump in my throat honouring you, and the hearts you'll touch, as you put words to all you've experienced.

      Love you, blazing angel .. as Rumi so beautifully said. xo

    • Elly
      14 April 2016

      You are amazing....!!!! ? Your strength is so admirable.... XO
      Lots of tears... I experienced similar experiences (bleeds) when I was 20 weeks and then 30 weeks with my daughter..... The birth, although I listened to my body & a first time mother, the doctors didn't pay me attention and didn't believe I was in labour.... My little girl arrived safe and was born completely healthy.... But the aftermath of being sent home with a heomitomia where my episiotomy was & also retained placenta, had me back in hospital for surgery 24 hrs after being sent home..... (We lived on a farm an hour and a half from hospital) I couldn't cope when coming home after having further complications within surgery & my bits being butchered---- I become & felt disconnected from my husband and everyone on the road to recovery.... Being on Endone whilst breastfeeding a newborn & losing 3 weeks of the beginning of her little life---- I was hurt, confused & so upset to why the system failed and the pain I continuously (still) have....
      A year later, when my daughter had her first birthday, my husband had and affair.... A few weeks later, after a solid 10 year relationship & 3 year marriage, I was a single mother, moving towns to be living back with my parents, an ex-husband, and the beginnings of a bitter divorce and the woman that my ex husband had an affair with is now my child's step mother......
      All in all.... We cannot punish ourselves for the things that happen in our lives.... One day at a time.... There may not be answers, but there is a bigger picture.... You will find that light, you are the light XO

    • Freya
      14 April 2016

      Tara, you are lovely, loving, and ever-loved. Thank you. Xx.

    • Megan
      14 April 2016

      Thank you Tara. Your words here today have humbled me. I too like many of our sisters here have had a miscarriage. I now have two daughters whom you have actually met through Let us feed you deliveries, and I've been brought to my knees and bed ridden for the last month due to multiple health issues brought on by mothering these two unique souls... you see they are complex and not like what we are told is a 'normal' child (I'm now on a journey to discover what their unique needs are based on their seemingly inability to fit into a what a 'normal' child looks and behaves like) this isn't to strip them of their uniqueness, but to help me rise and get the support I need to mother them in the way they need to be mothered (it is now apparent to me i have not been doing such a great job on my own as I now endure panic attacks and visits to emergency at 1am and acute anxiety). For today, I just wanted you to know that in the midst of my pain and challenges (although it is very different to yours right now and others who've posted, and I respect that) your words have started to help heal me and help me feel stronger and for that I am very GRATEFUL. Your writing here today will touch many women at all stages of mothering, and that is HUGE. For now, hold your loved ones (and especially Layla!) tight and most of all be compassionate with your beautiful self. Megan xxxxxxx

    • Karen Riley
      14 April 2016

      Wow it's amazing how when you are able to speak even the deepest darkest emotions you find the light again. Thank you for sharing it touched my many wounds of 6 lost souls that travel with me in my heart. From my heart to yours- big love! Also can't wait for part 2- i know I've received so much healing from my two pooches over the years ❤️

    • Shalee
      14 April 2016

      Thank-you so much for writing this Tara. You are so brave Xxx

    • Monica
      14 April 2016

      Dear Tara. What courage it must have taken to let this experience flow into your beautiful words. You've touched my heart very deeply by sharing this and I thank you. Sending you so much love right now.

    • 14 April 2016

      ‘Thank you for pouring so much love into me through the pregnancy. Your love has liberated me and returned me to the light.’

      Fair to say I could speak or move for a while out of sheer holy reverence; out of the penny dropping; the realisation that there is more to mothering than giving birth. That there is more to loving a child than having one.


      You beautiful soul. As a mother of two babes, I too yearned to be a mum since i was little. It was my soul calling. But it took me a while to conceive. And what i know more than ever is that the energy of of mother was always in me, and its that energy that draws beautiful souls into my life. Its that energy that helps me heal others. Its that energy that advocates for change fiercely where i feel its needed. Its that energy that stirs my soul and directs me to do my own inner work.

      As someone on your team, you are most definitely a mother - loving fiercely, guiding lovingly, helping, sharing, and nourishing with your words.

      Bless you sweet girl x

    • Jessica Shaw
      14 April 2016

      So beautiful Tara.

      Sending so many loving vibes your way! X

    • 14 April 2016

      Tara, thank you for sharing your heart and heartbreak with all of us. This post brought lots of tears as I've gone through the same thing this year. Bad paps, a miscarriage, waking up to bleed out the child I had prayed for. 2015 is like a nightmare that flashes before my eyes and I want to wipe it away, but I know I grew in that space...as dark and devastating as it was. My story doesn't get happy yet. I'm still struggling to conceive again. I still cry over negative pregnancy tests...like this morning again. But it makes me feel not so alone to hear you share your heart. I daydream of being a mother and want it more than anything. The empty room upstairs reminds me of my inability to do something I should be able to do as a woman. And it seems everyone is pregnant now...and I struggle with being around pregnant women...I smile for them and come home and cry in fetal position while my husband tries to tell me it will be okay. I grieve the life that was lost and I pray for the life that will come. I'm sending lots of love to you and as always, grateful to have you in my life.

    • 14 April 2016

      Light the world up lady. One real message at a time. Sending you all the love. X

    • 14 April 2016

      Teary-eyed and in awe of your courage to share such a raw, heartbreaking and deeply personal story. It took my husband and I a tough five years to conceive our baby boy (now 4 months old) and while I wake up every day full to the brim with love and gratitude for our little man, I've been hugging him even closer after reading this. Sending you and your fam bucketloads of love, Emma xoxo

    • 14 April 2016

      I became a mother last year. My husband's cousin lost two and spent years doing work to finally be pregnant now. A friend lost hers recently and another is due with her second. The cycle continues as we all seek spaces to mother well in the absence of babies, presence of babies, a friend who lost one then nearly lost her life having this current baby...I have had to process grief over a mother daughter relationship that has never been nor will ever be anything. It hit me hard after my son was born and I could barely get out of bed. I've had to learn to mother without a mother. Or father. We are all in this together. I'm so sorry this has happened but thank you for sharing the journey. I lived in the Gold Coast for a year going to school. I miss it daily!

    • 14 April 2016

      Oh dear Tara, I'm so sorry for your loss. I'm absolutely heartbroken for you. Thank-you for sharing your story with us, the world needs this... Us women struggling to become mama's need this... We need a voice, we need to share our stories and we crave connection and understanding... so thank-you for starting this conversation.

      Whilst I've never personally suffered a miscarriage, I have been through 5 years of fertility challenges and understand the suffering, heartbreak and pain of yearning to be a mama. We've tried absolutely everything to grow our family (and I mean everything from working with amazing natural and reproductive doctors to past life regressions, hypnotherapy, kinesiology, travelling to the states for the most advanced natural fertility treatments etc - you name it, we've tried it).

      I've got a low egg count, so IVFs not the best for us... We've done about 10 cycles against my greater beliefs (I'm a natural kind of girl, so I did a lot of work around being ok with IVF before embarking on it) and still not 1 pregnancy... Just last month we decided that we needed a new tactic, we've been patient, but 5 years of yearning for our babies is enough... So we jumped in and took my beautiful sister (she has birthed 4 children, one who was a stillborn Angel) up on her gift to donate her eggs to us. I was certain this was it for us. We transferred 2 perfect embryos this month, but unfortunately it was not too be... Our babies were just to precious for this lifetime. We will try again with my sisters eggs next month and I am hopeful and positive that this will be our time.

      Sending you so much love and healing light. Here's a letter I wrote that I'd like to share with you for all the women out there yearning to be a mama... Thank-you for opening this space up for a very important conversation. You are such a brave and special soul with a very important message to share... You are helping so many of us ladies by sharing your story ✨??


      Biggest love and hugs,
      Rach xox

    • Tara Louise
      14 April 2016

      You are very brave sharing your story. Its such an emotional roller coaster trying to conceive and I can't even imagine the pain of losing the little soul growing inside you. Can't wait to read the next 4 parts. So happy to see that Layla is helping you to heal. And while it's ridiculously hard sometimes, just remember that everything happens for a reason xx

    • 14 April 2016

      Thank you so much for sharing your story with the world Tara.

      I'll never forget my miscarriage, two years after beginning fertility treatments and all I could think was "I've just invested 2 years of my life, just to have this heartache inside me".

      I was shattered to the core - for someone who is such an open book, this event had me and I closed up like a clam.

      So much soul searching and self love took place after that, and I feel like a different person now.

      SO many women go through this heartache alone and it can be such an isolating and lonely place. Thank you for helping others with your story xx

    • Kate
      14 April 2016

      Tara i feel just the same as everyone here. You are incredibly brave and beautiful. I love your honesty and vulnerability, shining a light on the darkness. I too have a little baby in spirit,he spent 20 weeks in my body. The heartbreak was almost unbearable and it look me a long time to be able to open up about it. Please keep sharing with us, your writing is definitely a gift. Together we women are all united in our love, our pain, our strength,our truth.. Much love to you :)

    • Phoebe Hook
      14 April 2016

      "... there is more to mothering than giving birth. That there is more to loving a child than having one."

      You nailed it Tara. Big hugs to you honey. xxx

    • Maddie
      14 April 2016

      You are not broken. I love you. Thank you for your words and sharing your heartbreak. I yearn too and at times feel undeserving. Irresponsible and scared that my life is not perfect enough to bring a baby into it just because I want one. Or is that irresponsible to not bring a life if you can if you really are capable? I honour the mother in you and in me. Big love xx l

    • Cathy
      14 April 2016

      Thank you for being a brave woman and not only sharing your journey but trusting in the space beautiful women can create for your own healing. I myself have had a miscarriage and your words not only touched me but you have grace to such a difficult situation, you wrote it all so beautifully. Sending you and Glen much love and prayers for more magic to come your way soon xoxo

    • Vanessa
      14 April 2016

      Beautiful, beautiful post. Thank you for sharing. xx

    • Em
      14 April 2016

      Hi tara,
      So sorry to hear of your loss. Thankyou for sharing your story so far.
      I have two children but have had 7 pregnancies- including miscarriages, ectopic pregnancies in which I lost a tube and a medical termination at 14 weeks due to abnormalities in the baby.
      One of the hardest things is that people just don't like to talk about it and I think that it is very important to share and talk about that pain in order to heal.

      Sending love and light to you xx

    • Christine
      14 April 2016

      I'm crying so much for you right now. My heart breaks for you and your husband. But thank you for sharing, thank you for taking the time to write all this down and share it with us. I had 2 miscarriages in 2014 and it was so painful and I still don't think I'm fully healed, not sure if I ever will be. I did the same thing as you just keep going, only my close family knew about the loses, I'd turn up to work with no one knowing. It was so hard to continue on without support, without understanding. Even my close family either ignored it or due to not understanding said inappropriate things. I love that you had the message with the sunset and your friend did too. It was my 2nd miscarriage that I had a vision they were both with God and being protected and cared for. This isn't talked about enough, it's swept under the rug far too much, and you feel you need to hide your pain from the world. Thank you for showing me I'm not alone and I want you to know you're not alone either, even though I've never meet you, we are now unite.

    • 14 April 2016

      Such an incredible post that it going to help a lot of ladies.

      Sending you love. xx

    • 14 April 2016

      Tara, thank you for sharing your story - I have so much love for you. Your incredible bravery and honesty has blown me away.

      I feel as if your words are written for me, I haven't allowed myself to open up my own wounds and let them heal but this post has cracked me wide open. xxx

    • 14 April 2016

      Much love to you,Tara! Thank you so much for sharing, I have tears in my eyes...

    • Merran Brown
      14 April 2016

      Tara Love.
      Love - Love and more Love to you. Gorgeous stunning and beautiful woman! Multiple Blessings and many hugs to you and Glen. xxxxxxxx Merran

    • 14 April 2016

      Oh, gorgeous Tara. Thank you for your raw honesty and courage to share your story. I love that you have created a space for women to come together here. Miscarriage is often unspoken, we are told not to tell anyone our news until 12 weeks, so we are in the 'safe zone' - so when we miscarry we suffer in silence. This happened to me just before Emily.

      You always have a way with words to grab my soul right at its core, in this instance I am sorry for the circumstance and send so much love to you, Glen and Layla. I look forward to reading more about this divine creature I see (and swoon) in your pictures.

    • Aimee
      14 April 2016

      Hi Tara,
      This is such a beautiful and raw post. Thank you for sharing.
      I too have always yearned to be a mother. Since i was a young girl I have always loved babies and as a big sister myself i took on that role of sencond mum to my brothers and sisters and every young child in the neighbourhood. I always dreamt that i would have a tribe of children and actually at one point wanted 12! Haha i soon changed that to 6 after working in a daycare centre as a teenager!!
      I always assumed it would happen easily for me, come on i was born to be a mum!!
      Fast forward many years I married my love and i hoped to start a big family!! Anyway it turns out i too have a low egg count and IVF was really the best option for us in the end. It does rock you to your core when you cant naturally do the one thing you feel as a women you were born to do.
      My mothers heart has always been strong.
      I was however lucky and two years ago on our second attempt at IVF i fell pregnant with a beautiful sweet girl. At my 19week scan it was discovered that our sweet girl had many abnormalities but they couldnt give us an exact diagnosis. I decided to carry my beautiful baby as long as her heart beat here while praying for a chance to meet her. I knew my time on Earth with my daughter might be limited so i chose to make every moment count so i still brought her some specail things, i took photos of my growinn belly and i savoured every kick and movement inside my belly.
      I was so blessed and my Darling Ada was born Earthside at 38weeks. She was sent straight to Intensive care and she lived for a week. A whole week we got to touch her, hold her and cover her in kisses. We took hundreds of photos, read her books and squeezed a lifetime of memories into that week. I will always remember the smell of her newborn skin, the way her hair was so blonde and fuzzy and the way her eyes carried the universe.
      Our families also got to meet her. I feel grateful i got that chance to meet her and the hospital were amazing and when we couldnt be by her side the nurses were there loving her. My darling Ada only ever knew love during her short life!
      I miss her everyday but she is a huge part of my life and her name will always be spoken. We are united beyond this world.
      Grief changes over time bit it will always be there. Even though it may make me sad i love it when something triggers a memory of my sweet girl. Like a butterfly landing on my rainbow baby......
      Now i have a rainbow baby after another round of IVF. She is almost 8 months old and oh my she is gorgeous.
      I love both of my girls so much and i feel blessed to mother them.
      I think its wonderful that Women are sharing their journeys. you just never know who it may help. It is what has helped get me through, infertility, IVF and the death of my daughter.
      Another blessing on my journey with my sweet babe Ada was our fur baby, a Boxer pup named Hendrix. After learning at 19wks pregnant that our baby was very sick i said to my Hubby - can we get a puppy now. What a great decision that was. Having this adorable, needy puppy to hug and love during such a hard time was in the end the best therapy. He truely gave us light and laughter when we were travelling through darkness. Hendrix is our boy and i am so thankful he entered our lives when he did. He will always have a specail place in our family.
      Anyway again thank you for sharing your story and allowing me to share mine. Sending lots of love your way xoxo

    • 14 April 2016

      Such beautiful words you share,Tara. They touched deep into my soul.... All of these comments just show the amazing community we as women can form. I am a dog mom now, and it is without a doubt the most rewarding thing I have experienced in this lifetime yet.

      Someday I would like to have a baby, but right now is not the time. I know my baby will come when it is meant to, but in the meantime I will remember your words "You do not need a baby in your arms to know you are a mother at your essence". I needed that.

      Sending so much love!

    • Linda
      15 April 2016

      I hear your pain and sadness Tara. Sharing this publicly shows that you are a strong woman and have great courage. Bundles of love are winging their way to you. Take good care of yourself.

    • Dee
      15 April 2016

      You've got me Tara in a moment of my life when I'm working on easing off a bit and relaxing around the idea of motherhood; releasing the tension of the body, mind & soul that the very desire can bring... Two years after my first miscarriage and around the time when my second baby would be born... I lost them both around week 10 of my pregnancies, experiencing very same emotions as you did, pouring streams of love & rays of light onto them, enjoying every minute ~ especially in the second pregnancy, when I knew already how precious and how fragile this new life could be... This love, this bond, between us and our babies in our wombs, and beyond ~ in the sky, is truly divine!! Thank you for expressing, and sharing, in such a raw and true way your feelings after your miscarriage... this is how I too felt about my body back then, this is probably how many of us felt then... thank you for creating the space for connection... thank you for your last words and your acknowledgement of us all as mothers ~ tears were rolling down my cheeks while reading this short but oh so deep love note! I've so needed to hear that from the Universe, and you've been the channel, thank you from the bottom of my heart you beautiful, bountiful & blissful Mama! x

    • 15 April 2016

      Amazingly beautiful & honest sharing Tara. You have no idea how much beauty & grace you reflect back to everyone!!!

      I just starting following you on Snapchat and LURVE having you pop into my office every morning with your awesomeness. I'm claiming you as one of my 5 people I hang out most with now ;) hehe. You bring it right back to TRUTH.

      Sending you buckets of love & oneness & womb healing. #*x*#*x*#*x*#*x*#*x*

    • 15 April 2016

      Oh Tara!!!! What a beautiful, real, raw and honest post. A topic that needs to be spoken about more. I have a couple of friends that lost babies, and they felt alone because no one speaks about it. So thank you for sharing and opening up about something so deeply personal and emotional.

      I'm so blessed that I have a beautiful baby girl who is the light of my life. I know how lucky I am to be privledged to be a mummy. Being a mum isn't a right, it is a blessing and more women need to realise this.

      So much love to you hunnie!!!! You have been in my thoughts and prayers xoxo

    • 15 April 2016

      Lovely Tara,
      Thankyou for sharing this with us - and so beautifully written. I could not hold back my tears as I sit here at the hairdressers. My experience of miscarriage and infertility unfortunately involved some misguided competitive vibes with other women in my social circle at the time. I squashed down all my feelings very quickly because it felt like I was the only one who failed and my body had let me down. I was the loneliest I had ever felt. I was lucky to become pregnant six months later and have been given the gift of 2 beautiful boys. But my first child came back to me over the course of 3 years from 2013. A few readings I had done all confirmed she was a girl and that she lives in my heart chakra and is my Beacon of light. She also came to me In a painting I did at the beginning of 2015. So she has a face and a name and I feel her there. I believe she was there for many years before I even tried to get pregnant.

      What I have discovered over the years though is that we are not alone or the only one that this happens to. Thankyou for sharing and bringing more light.

    • Autumn
      15 April 2016

      Thank you for sharing so earnestly. Thank you. x

    • 15 April 2016

      Ah beauty, sending so so much love. And wow, I got shivers reading about the text from your teacher - how beautiful to know your baby knows how much you love her. How beautiful that you helped her find the light just through your love. Awe.

    • Sharin
      15 April 2016

      Oh wow thank you for sharing, YOU and all the other wonderful women who wrote and shared your stories....thank you xxx

    • 16 April 2016

      I don't have words yet except, Thankyou.

    • Katie
      17 April 2016

      Tara you express love in its purest form and your willingness to share it with all of us is just beautiful. Your story has touched us all, given us hope, and guidance. You truly are a teacher and a gift to this world. I can feel your mother energy pouring out of your soul halfway across the world. You are in my prayers.

    • 17 April 2016

      Bursting with love for you angel <3

    • Kate
      17 April 2016

      Sweet sweet Tara your story hits so very close to home. So many similarities it made me ache. I wept as I read your journey. I wept for you,but I also wept for me. Thank you so much for opening your soul and pouring it out for us to read, that takes real courage. The hardest thing is feeling like none else knows what your going through so simply sharing your story is bringing strength and comfort to others. So so much love and light to you ?

    • 17 April 2016

      A lump in my throat, tears in my eyes, I am so grateful for your openness and vulnerability - inspiring and supporting so many other women. I always adore devouring your heart felt and poetic words, Tara. Much love to you along this journey! xo

    • 19 April 2016

      So much love and hugs for you, honey. I'm so sad that this happened to you...feels not fare. But you are also the person who's going through this and bringing light, healing, sacredness, and grace to a terribly painful experience that so many women have gone through. You are always in my heart...xo

    • Georgia
      20 April 2016

      Beautiful Tara. Just beautiful.
      Sending you bucket loads of love.
      your words - “… there is more to mothering than giving birth. That there is more to loving a child than having one.” - nailed it and go straight to the heart.

    • 23 April 2016

      Thank you for such a beautiful and honest post, gorgeous Tara. I'm shedding lots of tears right now for you and Glen. I lost two sons at different times in my life and both very early in the piece so I relate to your wounded womb and the bleeding so much. The loss and grief is profound and never, ever goes away because as you say, even if your baby didn't make it to your arms, we are still mothers. Love you.

    • 26 April 2016

      Just love. Lots and lots of love to you!!!!!

    • kate
      28 April 2016

      Sending much love and light to you Tara. Thank you for sharing your wisdom and your story xo

    • Holly
      9 May 2016

      Thank you so very much Tara for this, it is so very refreshing to read something about infertility and loss etc

      I got sent the link to this from a special human in my life and how glad I am she did that

      My journey to become a mum is long but I wanted to share in short ttc with hubby for 10 years add to that 2 failed ivf treatments and diagnosis or lack of unexplained infertility. Since ivf and no money to keep funding treatment I had all but given up on the dream to be a mum although so wanted this more than life itself if that is possible.

      Then one morning in March this year I took a pregnancy test first thing in the morning as my period was late, not unusual for me my cycles are a bit messy but did the test and fell into hubbys two pink lines looked back at me I couldn't believe it how could this be possible!? We told our immediate family everyone knowing our journey were over the moon for us - your description of finding out you were pregnant and the emotions were spot on to what I felt in that moment and then for the next 2 weeks I was so happy and so pregnant, I truly was the happiest I could be and joined pregnancy apps and forums, went to look at baby shops, discussed the nursery and all. Two weeks exactly after we got the positive pregnancy test we went for a early scan as midwife wanted dating scan since my cycles were irregular. Hubby and I sat there excitedly waiting to hear a heartbeat the ultrasound man put it on my belly and said I'm a bit worried about this we should see a heartbeat did internal scan still no heartbeat I had officially had a missed miscarriage meaning my body thought it was still pregnant even though baby had stopped growing a week and a half before. I had to go into hospital and have my miscarriage induced and now my boobs are back to pre pgregnancy, my body no longer feels 'good' different and life is back to me not being a mum :( this is all too cruel why have us be pregnant for 2 weeks only to rip baby from us before they were in our arms, the pain is so intense, so raw and few truly understand and I am so sick of people saying it was natures way of saying there was something wrong or you will have a baby!!!

      So thank you for sharing and really making me feel that I'm not alone in this

    • 20 May 2016

      Thank you for writing this. The exact story I have told many times. And yet you have shown me new parts to it. Uncannily spookily parallel parts! I cannot believe all this time I was following you we we were going through the same thing. After my third loss last year my beautiful Mojo (English staffy!) came into my life. He has healed my heart in so many ways with his generous heart. I realised from your sharing that I have filled up my life so much (most of it good!) but left no too for me to just breathe out and move on. Maybe it's time..,,

    • 19 September 2016

      Tara my friend...i had to come write here...i am so grateful for these words you share. Saturday i experienced the most agonizing pain of my life as my body tried to naturally miscarry our baby... spiritually saying goodbye was devastating but this physical process was so hard...and in the early stages when the pain was bad enough to have me on my knees but bearable enough for me to be conscious- i sought these words! And i read them and wept and i felt encased in loved. Thankyou for being brave and sharing these words because it helped that loneliness i felt lift...i am blown away by the strength we have as woman. Lots of love xx

    • Alex
      7 April 2018

      Tara...just beautiful to read and resonated with me so deeply. Thank you for sharing. So much gratitude for you x

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