I love my daughter fiercely.
You may find that strange, you may find that impossible.
But I do.

I never met Effy-Mae, in as such as she never took a breath, she never laid eyes on me.
She barely made it halfway through pregnancy.
So how can I love her when I barely even knew her?
To any mother with a living child: did you not love your child before they were even born? Failing that, did you not love them the moment you first held them?
I knew her just as well as you knew your children in those moments.
I love her because she was and will forever be a part of me.
The love of a mother for a child is strong, it’s unbreakable and it’s irrational.

My love for her is fierce because I feel the need to explain it.
People don’t understand.
She was so small, so unprepared for the outside world.
Had she been born alive at her gestation they wouldn’t have even tried to save her.
Does that make her any less worthy of my love?
Of course it doesn’t.
But people don’t see that.
You say the word miscarriage and people instantly feel less sadness.
So I fight to show my love for her.
I fight to make people understand.
She was (is) my daughter, however small.
And I love her with all my heart.