When they happened, I thought time would move on and I would forget. There would be other pregnancies, other babies.

But 8 and 6 years later, I still think of them often, my ghost babies.

I sometimes look at my 3 kids, all healthy and happy and so full of life, and I think of the two that aren’t here.

I look back in the minivan at 3 kids buckled into their seats and I envision two more seats taken up by ghosts.

My first pregnancy, I remember being in shock and disbelief when I saw those two blue lines and then a different kind of shock and disbelief when I saw the blood.

This isn’t supposed to happen, I thought. People just decide to have a baby and then have a baby, this isn’t part of the plan!

The second time it happened, I had a toddler and I was eager to make him a big brother.

They need to invent a new word.

One that can accurately describe what a miscarriage feels like, because there just is no word for that gets to the heart of it. It’s a mixture of grief, disappointment and feeling like your body failed.

You mourn something that the world never really knew existed. In a way, they didn’t exist on paper. They had no name, no birth certificate, no life of their own, but he or she did exist, inside of you.

I wonder about them, my ghost babies. What was their gender? Why did they die? Did they have some deformity incompatible with life? How old would they be now? What kind of personality would they have?

My ghost babies will always be a mystery.

My head can read about how it’s natural for women to have miscarriages and sometimes she may have one and not even know about it.

But my heart can only whisper, I knew about them. My heart can only picture tiny toes and fingers that were never meant to be.

January 2008

October 2010

Dates that have no tangible meaning in my life, yet I can’t forget them, my would-be due dates.

I can’t forget that I although I have 3 children, I’ve been pregnant 5 times.

I just can’t forget.

To the ones I miscarried,

I love you.

I’m sorry I was foolish enough to ever think I could forget you.

I’m sorry I didn’t carry you for 9 months, but know that I will forever carry you in my heart.

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About the Author

Erin Britt