Hard to know where to start. I'm not even sure I should write this article. In any case perhaps not now, being so emotional. I do not usually talk about such personal matters. Here or even with my friends. But today I feel the vital need to write. The need to share my grief with the whole world.

My husband and I have been trying for almost ten months to have a child. Every month the disappointment became more and more difficult to manage. Why does it not work ? Is there a problem ?
But few weeks ago, everything changed. After four days being late while my period and cycles are usually very regular, I finally decided to do a pregnancy test. The result was pale but positive. Two days later, another positive test confirmed us the beautiful news. We are going to have a baby. We were euphoric. In 9 months, at the end of May, we will meet you.

We went to the doctor, we contacted our midwife. We had so many questions and new obsessions! I had to pay attention about everything I was eating and touching because I am not immune to toxoplasmosis.
But we didn’t care, we were too happy, living our dream. We couldn’t wait three months to announce the big news to our families. Why wait ? Everyone cried of joy.

We talked to you, baby, every day. You were already part of our life, our family. I ordered a book to help us choose your name even if we already have some ideas. We laughed so hard yesterday when we saw the name "Napoléon" in the book. We already imagined ourselves calling you "Napo chan" in Japanese style.
But last night we didn’t laugh at all. Around 4:30 in the morning I woke up. Since I'm pregnant I have been insomniac. I had a little pain in the lower belly. I went to the bathroom and there, my biggest fear became reality. I saw some blood. I was losing blood! And the cramps became more intense. I screamed to wake up my husband. "I think I'm losing the baby." I said those terrifying words. I was crying. Liters and liters of tears. We went to the emergency to consult a doctor. He also thought it was a miscarriage but advises us to call our midwife to do an ultrasound and confirm it. Our midwife was adorable. She understood our distress. She confirmed that it looked like a miscarriage but we needed to wait to be sure. I had to rest. To see how things were changing. I had an appointment the next day for an ultrasound. But several hours later, the pain was more intense than ever and I was still losing so much blood. The last little drop of hope just evaporated.
My baby, we will never meet you.

Yes you only had 7 weeks but for us you were already more real than anyone else in our life. We have to recover now. To mourn. To mourn you, your future, our future together. My heart is broken into a thousand pieces. I do not want to do anything except being in my husband's arms and cry. We cry a lot together. This event, we know, is now part of our story. We love each other more than ever.

In a few weeks or months, we will try again to do this baby we want so much. But nothing will ever be the same again. The carelessness, the little cloud on which we were perched, have disappeared. Next time there will be fear. The fear of losing again our baby. So maybe we'll do things differently, we'll wait to announce it. Or maybe not. Because after all, relatives are also there to share less happy moments, right?

If I talk about all of this today it's because firstly it makes me feel better, and then because I do not want to make this miscarriage a taboo. Too often early miscarriage is ignored whereas it concerns 10% of pregnancies. My friends, my colleagues, were not even aware that we were excepting a baby so how to tell them the pain after losing it?
Physically, nothing is visible. Physically, I seem to be fine, except for drawn features, red eyes, nothing is visible. Yet I lost the flesh of my flesh. I’m empty of you. I‘m mad at my body, at my work that was too tiring and at the whole world. I am depressed but life goes on. I have to go back to work, I have to handle everyday chores, though my husband has been so thoughtful and helpful despite his own sadness. I have to walk down the streets and meet all those families, these pregnant women, these adorable babies. I open Instagram and I only see these smiling babies, these people I love to follow and who are experiencing pregnancy and motherhood but who are desperately sending me back to my grief, my loss. Oh my baby, I would do anything to meet you, to carry you these 9 months in my belly and finally get to know you. But life has decided otherwise. I can only promise you that we will never forget you.

I wrote this article yesterday, the day of my miscarriage.