Twice Shattered: A Journey Through Miscarriage, Betrayal, and Unimaginable Pain

Losing one child is an agony I wouldn’t wish on anyone. Losing two is a wound so deep that it feels like there’s no end to the bleeding—both in my body and in my soul. My story is not just one of loss, but of betrayal, abandonment, and the kind of pain that shatters you in every possible way.

My first miscarriage was in November 2023, a day that is seared into my memory. My body went into shock after the security guard at our complex ran to tell me my husband had fallen and hit his head on the concrete while helping our son ride his bike. Panic consumed me as I rushed to his side, standing for eight long hours in the hospital, trying to be strong while doctors assessed the damage to his head. The stress, the fear, the helplessness—it was all too much. That same night, as I stood there looking at him in the hospital bed, sharp, unbearable pains tore through my stomach and back. Right there, I lost our baby.

I didn’t even get a moment to grieve properly. The trauma of that day, compounded by my husband’s indifference, made healing impossible. He never asked how I was holding up, never held me as I cried. The loss was mine alone to bear, even though the child was ours.

And then it happened again.

This second miscarriage on January 12, 2025 was even worse—brutal, relentless, and marked by conditions that felt like living in hell. By the time I lost my second baby, my husband’s actions had created an environment of continuous pain, harm, and chaos. There was no love, no empathy, no understanding. Instead of supporting me, he exposed me to chronic stress with his infidelities, his lies, and his deception. He betrayed me in the deepest ways possible, leaving me to navigate this unbearable grief alone.

This time, the pain was indescribable. My body was tearing itself apart to expel the baby I would never get to hold. I crawled on the ground in agony, trying to reach the bathroom to puke or the kitchen for water. Night after night, I woke up screaming from sharp, searing pains that sent my body into violent shivers. And yet, my husband—who caused so much of this—offered no comfort.

Not once did he offer me a foot rub, slice a piece of fruit, or even think to buy prenatal vitamins. Absolutely no concern for my emotional or physical wellbeing. The support was nonexistent, but the horrors of this pain were deafening. The only hands of help in my darkest moments belonged to my 6-year-old son, whose love and care will always be remembered. My son, in his innocence and tenderness, became my lifeline. He brought me tissues, held my hand, and whispered words of comfort far beyond his years.

Meanwhile, my husband stood by, cold and detached, as though my suffering was invisible. His wickedness, selfishness, and betrayal cost me not one, but two babies. It is a cruelty I will never forget—a legacy of pain that reaches far beyond me. It is etched into my soul and into the heart of my son, who had to step into a role no child should ever bear.

To those who have extended love, empathy, and support, thank you. Your kindness has been a balm in a sea of torment. You reminded me that humanity still exists when I was surrounded by its absence.

But for my husband, let this be known: You broke my body, and our family. Your lies, deception, and lack of care cost me two children—two lives I will never get to nurture, hold, or watch grow. Your indifference in my suffering is a testament to your wickedness. You turned our home into a battlefield and left me to pick up the shattered pieces alone. PS: Rest assured, in no way do I feel less than. His response is a direct depiction of where he is in his own life and how he feels about himself and life in general. After all his indifference isn’t limited to me but sadly extends to our son. 

To those reading this, understand: miscarriage is not just a medical event—it is a soul-crushing loss. It’s not just “bleeding” but the tearing apart of hope, dreams, and motherhood itself. It’s waking up in agony, dragging yourself through unbearable pain, and grieving for a life you’ll never hold.

I will carry this pain with me forever, but I’ll also carry the love of my son and the memory of my babies. Through the unimaginable, I’ve found strength I never knew I had, and one day, I’ll rise from this. This is my story, raw and real. And it’s far from over. The transition has already been initiated. 

XOXO