Loss & Resilience: Learning to Trust My Body Again

Category: 💔 Loss & Resilience 

✦“Loss speaks a language our bodies whisper and our pets understand.”✦

Loss has a way of making you question everything—your choices, your strength, even your own body.

Before miscarriage, I thought of motherhood as something that happened to me. A natural next step. A biological process. You get pregnant, you grow a baby, you become a mom.

But after loss, I realized motherhood is something your soul learns before your body does.

Because when you’ve lost a pregnancy, your body becomes a conflicted place.

A house that held love, and also where that love quietly disappeared.

I remember standing in front of the mirror weeks after, hand resting on a stomach that still felt bloated, still looked a little pregnant, but was not. I felt betrayed—by timing, by nature, by my own anatomy. I kept thinking, How could this happen inside of me, and I didn’t even know? How could my body keep going when my heart had stopped?

But here’s what I didn’t expect:

Even in loss, my body showed up for me.

It endured the pain. It let go when it had to. It began healing even when my heart wasn’t ready. And in some ways, that miscarriage was the moment I realized—I was already a mother.

Because motherhood isn’t defined by birth. It begins the moment you carry life—whether for weeks, months, or just long enough to feel love.

I wish I could say I immediately began to trust my body again. I didn’t.

For a long time, I whispered apologies to it.

For the anger. For the blame.

For forgetting that it, too, was grieving.

Grief had made me think my body failed me. But truthfully, it protected me. It held what it could—until it couldn’t anymore.

The day I stopped seeing my body as broken was the day I realized this:

My body didn’t fail. It felt. It carried. It tried.

And eventually, when I was ready, it tried again.

That’s when motherhood changed for me.

It stopped being about protection and started being about partnership.

A conversation between my heart and my body.

A quiet agreement: If you keep going, I will too.

And that’s when something extraordinary happened.