Epigraph

This book was deeply personal for me to write. It was born out of a need to tell a story I wished I had seen. After the Bridgerton debacle—no shade toward the show or its direction—I realized how much an infertility storyline could mean to so many people, myself included. For me, this isn’t just a storyline; it’s a reflection of a journey I’ve lived, a piece of my heart I’ve scraped off and put on the page.

I wrote this story for anyone who needs to know they aren’t alone.

When I was 26, I experienced three miscarriages between my oldest and second daughters. They all happened between six and seven weeks, and they were soul-crushing. I cried, I questioned, and I grew bitter. I couldn’t even look at another pregnant woman without wondering, Why couldn’t I keep my baby? What’s wrong with me? I also knew how lucky I was that I could conceive, and I didn’t take that for granted. Still, those losses stayed with me, silent and unresolved, until now.

God keeps His promises. He took three away, but He gave me three more—healthy, thriving, no complications. All girls, by the way. I have 4 girls. I don’t know why miscarriages happen, and I wouldn’t wish them on anyone. But through those trials, and the grace I’ve received since, I realized I never truly mourned those losses. Until this book.

I’m not the type to cry while I write, but there were moments in this story when the dialogue hit so close to home that I broke down. I finally mourned what I lost.

To anyone who has been through this pain, I see you. I’m so sorry. No one will ever say the right thing—unless they’ve been through it too. And once you’ve gone through it, there’s no going back.

If you need a sign to keep trying, this is it. I’m proof that you can have healthy pregnancies after multiple losses.

If you need a sign to take a break, this is it, too. Mourn. Sit with stillness. Pray. Feel everything. And even though it feels like it, know you aren’t alone.

This story is for you. It’s for me. It’s for the 26-year-old version of myself who didn’t understand what she was going through, and for the 35-year-old version who still doesn’t.

We all have scars, most of them hidden inside us. But you aren’t alone.

With love and hope,

Heather