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Emmet's Mum, Zoe and

Surviving Miscarriage


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I first met Zoe on Instagram through another friend.

I was drawn to her eloquent writing and her incredible, vulnerable sharing of her loss and grief

and her determination to bare all of this on behalf of all those who had lost a baby

but felt they could not lift the "veil of silence over the subject that so few people dare to break." 


I started preparing for Halloween early in 2016. I loved Halloween. 

Some point in October, before the 22nd I must have pinned this photo, I must have imagined Emmet's first Halloween. 

Looking through my Halloween board yesterday I came across it. It stopped me dead. I thought I had collected and poured over every last image and item I have left from the brief time we had together.

I thought our 1 family photo before I yet knew I was pregnant, one photo of me picking apples and his crocheted boots were the ONLY things we have of 'his' from when I was pregnant. Now I have this pin. Proof that he was there. Proof of my dreaming. It isn't my photo, it's just a random one from Pinterest but it is a little more than we had before.

It took me by surprise.


Halloween came just after we lost Emmet and it was our first Holiday without him. And now, as we approach what could and should have been his first Halloween, it is our second, and he is not on earth to dress up and photograph and love. 

I don't know how we got through that Halloween party, or how we managed to smile and play host. I don't know how I managed to even get up out of bed but I did. 

And at one point I pinned a pin to keep for this year, and I just found it. 









This is me.

Outside me. 



The next picture is also me, but entirely more genuine and far less flattering. 

Both these pictures are taken post loss but in the first one you can't tell. The only clue you might have is that the dress is green- Emmet's colour. But you'd have to know me reeealy well to know that was a factor in choosing that dress. Also the fact it was 7.50 in a charity shop, but I digress.

The second one was taken a moment ago. Here I have been crying. I have taken no care with my appearance. 

In both pictures I am grieving. In both outfits I cried for my son. Only in that green dress it was afterwards, when the formal was over and I was home I cried because I knew I wanted my son more than I ever wanted that dress. That evening. 

If I had had a newborn I would never have gone out that night. Never bought the dress. Never made the memories I made. 

I cry tonight because each night there is a new burden, another day passed that lacks a vital part of my soul, and tonight it keeps me awake with whirling thoughts of love and loss.




You can read Zoe's blog at Surviving Miscarriage Together, or visit her on Instagram



"Nobody has to go through this alone"


Thank you Zoe.  You touch hearts!



If you are reading this,  you can see and more importantly feel, the value of sharing a story.  It doesn't have to be perfectly worded or written.  You CAN show your vulnerability.  But best of all you touch other people and maybe give them hope, or something that they can use to take forward with them as they deal with their own lives, their own stories.  You CAN be vulnerable.

(And, as an aside, you just may gain insight and clarity through the writing and through the sharing)

Share YOUR story ... - this is your opportunity to leave your legacy, no matter how small you think it may be. 




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Are you ready to share your story?


We would love to read it.


Click here to send it to me ...

  If you aren't ready, perhaps I can help.

Click here and we can work out how to make that happen.

You DO have a story to tell.


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