We’ve all heard the statistic: 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage.
The ultrasound machine that once pulsed with the echoes of life is still. There’s no heartbeat. No baby. This good-bye was too soon and the empty womb is matched only by the hollowness you feel within. 1 in 4.
A few months after my first miscarriage, I entered into a new statistic: “1 in 50.” This is otherwise known as the approximate 2% of women who experience two miscarriages in a row.
1 in 4.
1 in 50.
It was only a few months later that I hit the “1 in 100” mark. I’d earned the title I’d never wanted to carry — three losses in a row, recurrent miscarriage.
1 in 4.
1 in 50.
1 in 100.
These statistics are heavy. Oh-so-heavy.
Because let me tell you, being that “1 in something” feels lonely.
Being “1 in something” feels as if you’re fighting alone.
But you’re not.
You are NOT alone.
Because what the statistics FAIL to show you, is that when you join this bleeding and broken set of women, you also join a community of fierce-hearted, warrior mothers.
Women who have walked through fire and emerged stronger still.
Women who are not ashamed of the scars they carry but wear them boldly with love.
Women who carry the names of babies tattooed on their arms and imprinted on their hearts.
Women who know what it feels like to fall on their knees, and to feel the arms of One who holds them close in their darkest moments.
Women whose dreams are big and bold and unwavering.
Women who have felt the weight of community and know the strength found in unity.
Women who aren’t afraid to keep loving, no matter the cost.
Women who cling to hope.
Women who have carried the weight of this love and loss, and can say with tears in their eyes and arms open wide, “You are not alone.”
1 in 4.
1 in 50.
1 in 100.
No matter your number, this pregnancy was more than just a statistic.
And you are never alone.
