Losing a baby or being unable to conceive one is traumatic for both mind and body. Most women blame their bodies in some way, because it feels like something that should be within our control. Carrying a baby is natural, right? I mean, it’s arguably what the female body is made for. So, why can many women’s bodies conceive and carry healthy babies to full term, but here on Still Mothers, our bodies have failed us?

On top of those feelings, losing a baby is hard on our bodies. Having a miscarriage or stillbirth is traumatic, as is having a “normal” birth and then losing your baby while you’re still recovering. No matter the situation, it hurts, and it changes your body.

I carried my Jonah to 30 weeks before his heart stopped beating. He was bigger, though, than a healthy 30-week baby, because of his hydrops. He was 3 lbs. 13 oz. when he was born.

I had stretch marks – lots of them. They were deep, and they were purple. 5 months postpartum, I still have them, but they’ve started to fade. I suffered a third degree tear during delivery, which was less than enjoyable to recover from, especially while grieving, and made me wonder why my body couldn’t even handle birthing a smaller baby. I’m also left with a nice, hanging, jiggly belly that makes me feel less than confident. So, in addition to being angry at my body for letting my lupus antibodies get to Jonah’s heart, I’m also ashamed of its new jiggle.

I tried some self-love in the form of posting my postpartum body on the internet. It was terrifying, but also felt…kind of good.

Dealing with my feelings about my body has been extremely difficult these past 5 months. Going back to my yoga, barre and Pilates classes has helped me start to feel strong again, but the jiggle isn’t at all easy to get rid of. In comparison to feeling like my body failed Jonah, thought, the jiggle is nothing.

Learning to make peace with our bodies post-loss is really, really difficult. It will take time and a lot of self-love to become more accepting of them. Knowing it wasn’t your fault and believing it wasn’t your fault are two separate things.

Amy Bloom, a writer and psychotherapist, says:

“You are imperfect, permanently and inevitably flawed. And you are beautiful.”

I’m going to try making that my mantra. Yes, I have lupus. Yes, it made my son’s heart fail. My disease did that, not me. I would have done anything…anything in the world…for my son to live. My body is beautiful, stretch marks, jiggle, lupus and all.

And so is yours, beautiful mama <3