I don’t know where to start. I’m not good at writing, nor do I intend to move anyone emotionally. I just want to share my story with the hope that some woman reading this now, who feels she can’t take it anymore, might find courage.

I always wanted to be a mom. I didn’t have a plan for my life, I wasn’t chasing careers or big ambitions. I just wanted to hold a baby in my arms. To feel that ultimate love and understand what it’s like to love another human being more than yourself.

I got married at 30 and a few months later I was pregnant. My joy was immense. I felt that everything was going “as it should.” I had announced it to everyone, I had already started looking for baby clothes, bottles, a crib, a stroller.

Until the first miscarriage came… at 7 weeks. The doctors told me “it’s common, don’t let it get you down.” And indeed, I handled it relatively calmly. It was early, I hadn’t fully realized it. Even though I felt the disappointment of losing my dreams, I didn’t let myself grieve. A random event, I thought, nature knows best. All the things they tell women in such cases.

But when it happened a second time… and a third… and a fourth… that’s when I broke. It was no longer “random.” I had repeated cycles of the same terrible thing. And I was at the center of it.

I felt so sad and wondered why all this was happening to me. So many women get pregnant immediately, why did I have 4 miscarriages? Why couldn’t I finally hold a baby in my arms, when all around me my friends and acquaintances – one after another – were posting happy pictures on social media with their babies in their arms?

I did every test. Thrombophilia, immunological, hormonal, everything. Each time I hoped they would find something “wrong,” something that could be fixed. But nothing. Everything was “normal.” That word “normal” drove me crazy. If everything is fine, then why can’t I keep my baby? If no one can tell me what’s wrong, does that mean I’ll never make it?

My psychology was shattered. I envied pregnant women, I avoided any gathering with friends who had babies… I found excuses not to go out. I felt very alone, even with my husband. I felt he couldn’t understand what I was going through (even though he was supportive, poor guy).

And then… came the fifth pregnancy.

I didn’t celebrate of course, nor did I post a photo of the pregnancy test. I didn’t tell anyone. Again I was afraid to feel joy, afraid to jinx it. I did all the injections they prescribed, I went almost every week for an ultrasound. Every time I went to the bathroom, I checked to see if there was blood. I lived it all in fear, with zero hope. I just took each day as it came.

The weeks passed and I was simply waiting for the bad thing to happen. No panic anymore, but sunk into depression, even when my gynecologist reassured me that everything was fine.

The first trimester passed like that. Then I reached the second. And finally, in the 9th month I gave birth to my baby. A daughter. Incredible… A miracle in itself, but even greater for me, because she carried with her the souls of the siblings she never knew. They call them rainbow babies, and only at the moment when they laid her on my chest, wrinkled and scared of the new world around her, while I cried with sobs, did I understand why…

I think now of what we went through… it feels like a mountain, but thankfully it’s in the past.

That’s why I write. Not because everything went perfectly. But because even after 4 miscarriages, there can still be light at the end.

If you’re reading this and you’re in the dark… just hold on. I am the proof that it’s worth it.

See the pregnancy tests