“Never bigger than a soap bubble,” remembers Sasha her child. A tall woman with velvet kindness in her voice in her late thirties, with so many strange feelings, memories and emotions today. 

Every time she miscarried, always way too soon after having a BFP, she was assured she would get pregnant again and has heard many of those well-meant words about how it will be fine and work out next time. She became pregnant again, yes, but it was never fine. One of those summers, when she had an especially painful miscarriage, with complications and fever, she cried during a medical check. She did it just once. She said she felt sorry for losing the child. For her body not being able to protect and safeguard it. “Don’t call it a child,” she remembers the doctor saying. “You know it is just an embryo, not even a foetus… It is ok, it happens very often. Sometimes women don’t even know they were pregnant.” 

Right, just an embryo. Yeah, before eight weeks, it is not even a foetus, but how does a mother, sorry just a woman, who would trade the entire universe to give the little bubble a chance to become a child, not call it what she believes in. Just like those millions of other women who have children. She calls hers a bubble. “No more than a bubble she was, but we love her. She was our only child.”

Danielle saw her baby on the ultrasound. “There it is,” said the doctor. We thought we saw her growing. Those tiny, tiny little hands… but she was leaving. For a better world, I guess. 

Danielle is a strong woman. Strong enough to remember, to feel again all the sadness, despair, the disappointment, the fears, the doubts, strong enough to remember even the skies being pitch black. And the ray of light she felt just breathing. In and out. In the love of her husband.

“Still, I can’t believe the doctor said that,” says Sasha. “Like they are afraid of the feelings. Of pain. Of exactly those emotions and processes which heal the wound inside you. One should never say something like that. Not a doctor in the first place. I never had another child. And bubble, she’s with us all the time. Even though we do not see her, we still do somehow. We have these days when we see her going to school, her beautiful bright hair, just like mine when I was a little girl. I don’t harm anyone “having” this child. She’ll always be my child. Just like I will never be a mother.”

Yeah, it can be a tough day with all those baby photos around, pink bows and blue pacifiers and all those heartless mottos on how life only has meaning once you have children… It has not. Life is meaningful and precious as it is. We all travel different roads. And some of us remember with so much love and affection those little bubbles. It is a bubbles day too today.

Get as much light and love as you can so they shine bright in your mind. Hugging you all.