With my first pregnancy, I remember seeing the online forums for “miscarriage & loss” in passing as I looked for pregnancy support groups. I would wince a little inside and try to put mental blinders on to avoid glimpsing that dark side of pregnancy. I didn’t really want to know.

I had friends and relatives who had gone through miscarriages, and I knew enough to say, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” But I really had no idea what they were going through. My first pregnancy went beautifully with no complications.

Four years later, I was nine weeks into my second pregnancy, and the bleeding started. I knew what was happening. The depths of despair I felt that night were something I never could have imagined.

I had so much longing riding on that pregnancy. The desire to give my daughter a sibling. The race against time to beat the odds at age 45. Saying good bye to this dream–this promise of a life that had been growing inside me. And then on top of it, there were all the gnarly TMI parts that no one ever talks about.

Amidst the agony, I oddly felt a sense of gratitude that “now I knew.” Now I knew, and the next time I said, “I’m so sorry for your loss” I would have some idea what I was actually sorry for. There’s no way I could have had any clue without having gone through this myself. Now I knew.

You’d think that going through it once might sort of prepare you for the next time, but no, not really. The next time was agonizing in slightly different ways. I learned that the miscarriage experience can vary A LOT from one pregnancy to the next.

I was blessed to go on to have a successful pregnancy a few months later, and I would say my heart is mostly healed. It’s been five years now and it all seems like a distant memory.

But if you ask me to dig deep and go back to those painful moments I can still find a tear rising up. A tear for the delicate butterfly of a life that never got to fully manifest. A tear for this mother who had so much hope and longing in her heart.

I will never know the pain of a second or third trimester loss, and certainly not that of an infant loss. But my heart goes out to all mothers and fathers who have lost a little one at any stage.

Today is designated as Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day.

If you’ve experienced a loss yourself, first of all, I’m so sorry for your loss. Second, I’d like to give you permission to allow any day to be a remembrance day.

Grief doesn’t have a calendar. Healing doesn’t have an expiration date. Don’t let anyone else tell you how you should feel or how long the healing process should take.

Hold your grief like it’s a delicate butterfly. Have compassion for yourself. Your process need not be tidy or pretty…just let it unfold in its own way. Maybe you’ll light a candle, say a prayer, write a letter, sit in meditation or none of the above. Let yourself find your own way.

If you are open to pleasant guided imagery, I’ve created a special guided meditation designed for healing any kind of suffering you may have endured. If you think you might enjoy a soothing journey to a healing sanctuary, I hope you’ll have a listen and please consider sharing this with others who might benefit.

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