Today is my birthday. My feelings and emotions swirl around me like the ocean during a storm. It has been a big year!

This time last year, I was engaged to the love of life. Today, I am married to him. So yes, there was a wedding, and all of the amazing parties surrounding it. There was also the honeymoon, which was perhaps the most spectacular month of our lives. And then, shortly after the honeymoon, there were those two beautiful pink lines on the stick that every longing mother dreams of.

We were pregnant!

I remember feeling like it had all come a little bit too easy; like it was all a little bit too good to be true. The man of my dreams, the fair-tale wedding, the honeymoon of a lifetime. And now this? Really?! I felt like the luckiest woman on earth!

In fact, I still do for so many reasons. But not this one.

Sadly, six weeks later, we lost our little bubba and it was the most devastating day I have ever experienced. I have lost many people in my life, but my heart has never hurt as much as it hurt on that day.

Just two months earlier, Scott stood beside me, his hand holding mine, and shared his personally crafted vows.

He promised that we would stand by each other through our joys and our sorrows; that we would share our dreams and our anxieties. He promised to love me unconditionally and that in his love, he would provide a safe and loving shelter, forever.

Who knew how quickly those vows would be tested? Who knew how deeply important those vows would become?

Scott delivered on everything he promised, plus more, and I have never felt so lucky or so loved.

Two months later on Christmas Eve, exactly one year after Scott proposed, we found ourselves in a position as equally exciting as the year prior.

We were pregnant again!

The crazy waves of emotion swirling around my stomach almost bought that turkey right back up! The happiness, the worry, the excitement, the anxiety. I went to bed that night hugging joy but being spooned by fear.

Sadly, at eight weeks after seeing a beautifully healthy heart beat, we lost our second baby. I have absolutely no words to describe what was felt that day.

However, it is my birthday, and this is not a story of loss. It is a story of love. It is a story of love for my husband who has been the most amazing gift to my life. It is a story of love to our babies, who I may not get to meet in this lifetime, but who I will forever hold in my heart. It is a story of love to the friends and family who replenished my world with light when it suddenly turned to darkness. It is a story of love for every other women who has, is, or will one day go through the loss of an unborn child. I cannot take away the pain, but I can share my love. And I do.

It is also a story of hope. It is a story of hope for the day when we get to carry home our beautifully healthy baby. It is a story of hope for a future where there is greater medical understanding and support . It is a story of hope for a society that does not silence the topic, but instead, offers their love.

Miscarriage is still a largely taboo topic, and many women grieve in silence. For some, that may be a choice, and I respect that entirely. But for some, it is not a choice. It is something driven by shame, and guilt, and fear. It is something driven by a distorted idea that we should not talk about it. This idea is not only wrong, but it is dangerous. It is dangerous because it leaves too many women, and men, isolated in their darkness. It leaves them alone with their often distorted thoughts and emotions. It leaves them empty.

We are told not to tell anyone we are pregnant until twelve weeks in case something goes wrong. But does that not also insinuate that if something goes wrong, we should not tell anyone? Why?

When, or when not to tell others about a pregnancy is entirely an individual choice. I 100% respect that. But I also believe we need to lift the taboo on something that one quarter of couples will go through; miscarriage.

When I left my first appointment when we saw the tiny beating heart, we left with photos, pamphlets, hope, joy, love and excitement.

When I left those appointments after discovering the heart had stopped, we left with nothing. No pamphlets, no leaflets, no joy, no excitement. Nothing.

I know I cannot change the world with this post, but for my birthday, I do ask for just one thing; Help lift the silence. That is my birthday wish.

If you know someone who has or is going through a miscarriage, be there for them. The grief is deep and it is real, and it is very like that they feel incredibly alone. The loss of an unborn child is just as painful as any other loss. Show your love. Show your support.

If you yourself have or are going through a miscarriage, don’t feel that you must suffer in silence. Please, seek support. When you stay silent, you send yourself messages of shame and of guilt. You did nothing wrong. Speak to your family and your close friends. If you feel that you can’t or don’t want, speak to me. Whether I know you or not, I would love to be a source of support for anyone who has or is going through this.

Please. Help lift the silence.

Thank you for my birthday gift,

Katie Xx