Woman Shares Heartbreaking Miscarriage Story On Reddit, And Then All These Others Join In
Yesterday on Reddit, this incredibly moving post appeared on R/TwoXChromosomes. The post was written by a woman who was forced into prostitution and experienced incredibly cruelly. Her life and world was shaped by a pregnancy that (for awful reasons) she was unable to carry to term. Read it all for yourself:
{throw away account because of privacy, and English is not my first language, so excuse some mistakes}
I was expecting a baby once, and she would have saved me. She did not get the chance to do that, but I love her still, and think about her every day.
When I was 13 years old, some guy got his claws into me by making me believe he could help me climb out of the mess that was my childhood. He acted like some kind of social worker, but he ended up being a pimp; He got me hooked on drugs, broke me and forced me into prostitution, to work in a paedophile network. It was hell. Every time I missed a period or developed a baby-belly, they would beat me up and I would miscarriage, and after some time my body would reject every pregnancy on its own. I was too addicted anyway, my body beat up and underweight. But that one time, the baby stayed. I was 16 by then and I was so happy, I would fantasise about myself being big and pregnant and with her in my arms, onto a better future. People would save a pregnant girl out of prostitution right? This tiny baby was going to save me and I loved her so much already. I had a small baby bump, but I tried to hide it for them as best I could. I tried to eat more, tried to use as little drugs as my addicted body could get by on. I nicked stuff in stores to get ready to run away with her when the time came. I was brainwashed into thinking I could not get help from anyone, because they would hurt, or even kill, anyone I’d tell about the abuse; I thought I was alone. But this baby gave me hope and strength and I knew I could make it if I wanted to. I would become a mom, I already was her mother.
But one day my pimp dragged me to a back room, boiling with rage, shouting at me that I tried to deceive him, beating me and eventually pushing me down a flight of stairs and kicking my head, back and belly. He left me there at the bottom of those stairs and I prayed to every god I knew that everything would be ok. Besides being very sore, it seemed to be. But that night, I eventually did have a miscarriage. She was so tiny and still, small enough to lay on my hand. There she was, my little saviour, completely intact and perfect. Saviour because she did save me; she made me feel again after I had been numb for a long time. I told her her name, and that I loved her, that I would find a beautiful place for her and never forget her. I wrapped her in a blanket and buried her in the forest nearby. I was in a daze, barely knew what I was doing, but I guess my instincts kind of took over, did what I had to do. It was horrible to leave her there, so small amongst those big trees, but I went by every day for a long time, to see if she was ok.
About half a year after that my girlfriend dragged me out of that hell hole, helped me kick my addiction, and I would take her with me to visit my daughter a lot of times. They both saved my live and they are both not here any more. It seems true that all the good ones go first, I miss them so terribly…
Tomorrow I’ll be going again, with flowers and some birdseed, so she’ll have the birds to keep her company when I leave again. It has become tradition and I like to think she likes that as much as I do… Almost nobody knows about her, the place where she lies is unmarked, but I want people to know about her. She was so terribly precious. Her name is Reza.
And if that wasn’t enough, soon other Redditors began to join in with their moving stories of loss:
My daughter’s name was Merida. She was so beautiful and tiny. And when she was one month two days old, I woke up and found she’d passed. They did an autopsy and said it was SIDS. But it still haunts me everyday. Just wanted to let you know that you aren’t alone. And though your circumstances were different from mine, it might comfort you a bit to hear the words my family has to tell me constantly: it wasn’t your fault, there was nothing you could have done, and although she died she did not suffer.
The support and togetherness — even through pain — is really inspiring:
My son’s name was Anthony. He was stillborn 5 days before his projected birthday, which is also my birthday. I cannot imagine what you went through, but I do know what it is like to feel only pain and sadness. To feel empty of everything but pain. I hope you continue to find your way back to happiness.
Solidarity through struggle. This mother talks about how her baby was born stillborn:
My daughter’s 1st birthday would have been yesterday. 40 weeks to the day, we went to the hospital full of excitement, and she was stillborn that evening. Her name was Tess and she was beautiful. I miss her every day.
