When Motherhood Feels Like a Punishment: Surviving Miscarriage After Miscarriage

No one tells you how much loss a body can hold.

No one tells you how deeply you can grieve something that was never fully here. No one tells you that the moment you see those two pink lines, your heart will attach itself to a future that may never come.

And no one tells you how gut-wrenching it is to go through that again and again and again.

Miscarriage isn’t just loss—it’s a slow, cruel heartbreak that steals your dreams before they even have a chance to live. And for me, it feels even crueler. Because the only child I have—the only one my body has ever let me keep—was from a relationship that broke me. A relationship filled with pain, fear, and abuse.

So why? Why would God give me a child with a man who destroyed me, but not with the one who loves me? Why does it feel like I’m being punished for trying to be happy?

The Pain of Losing Something That Was Never Fully Mine

Every miscarriage is different, but the pain is always the same. The hope. The cautious excitement. The whispered prayers.

Then the cramps start. The blood. The emergency appointments. The look on the doctor’s face when they don’t have to say the words—you already know.

Each time, I let myself believe that maybe this one would be different. Maybe this time, my body wouldn’t fail me. Maybe this time, I’d get to keep the baby.

But every time, the outcome is the same. Another loss. Another piece of me broken.

And my husband—my wonderful, patient, loving husband—just wants a child of his own. He never makes me feel like I’m failing him, but I feel it anyway. Because how could I not? How could I not feel like I’m robbing him of something he deserves?

The PTSD from these losses isn’t just emotional—it’s physical. My body remembers every cramp, every ache, every sensation that meant I was losing yet another baby.

And then there’s the deeper trauma—the fact that the only child I have came from a man who hurt me. A man I never wanted to be tied to for life. A man who left behind scars I’m still trying to heal from.

I love my child more than anything. That’s never been the question. But why couldn’t I have this with my husband? Why couldn’t my body do this for him?

Is God punishing me for my past? Am I not worthy of happiness after everything I’ve been through?

Searching for Answers That Don’t Exist

People try to comfort me with words that only make it worse.

“Everything happens for a reason.”

“Maybe it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“At least you know you can get pregnant.”

None of it helps. None of it erases the deep, aching emptiness inside me. None of it stops the spiral of self-blame, the questioning, the bargaining with God.

I don’t know if I’ll ever get the answer I’m looking for. Maybe there isn’t one. Maybe this is just one of those cruel, unfair things in life that I’ll never understand.

But what I do know is this: I am tired. I am angry. I am heartbroken. And I am still trying to hold on to the hope that one day, one day, my body won’t betray me.

Until then, I grieve. I heal. I survive. Because that’s all I can do.