Loving someone who has lost is never easy.
But it’s always worth it.
Cross-posted on Substack.
We’re going to be talking about miscarriage again today, so consider this your content warning. I know it seems like I’ve been talking about this a lot, and you’re right. But it is a prominent part of Not a Strong Enough Word, and it is part of the reason why this book is so close to my heart.
If you cannot read about miscarriage today, please stop here. Take care of yourself, always.
I don’t have much to say here aside from that I’ve been drinking coffee. Not a lot, but enough. I’m also sure there are plenty of causes that need our attention right now, but between school, dance recital season, and a book release, I’m out of spoons! So if you’ve got something, let me know in the comments or by responding to this email, and I’ll make sure it gets in the next newsletter.
For those of you who are new around these parts, I had a second trimester miscarriage in the fall of 2018. I was 17 weeks pregnant, but our daughter had stopped growing at around 13. It was what we call a “missed miscarriage.” My body didn’t recognize she was gone. It resulted in a procedure, days in the hospital, and a very lengthy physical recovery—which is to say nothing of the mental load. Thank god for my therapist. When I say she saved my life, I mean it. I don’t think I would have died, literally, but I wasn’t living until I worked through a lot of this, either.
Early on, my therapist wanted me to write about my miscarriage. “You’re a writer,” she said. “Writing it out will be therapeutic.” She wanted me to write about each excruciating detail, including my feelings about it all.
Reader, I did not do this. I resisted the hell out of it, and recognizing how stubborn I was, my therapist backed off of the suggestion pretty quickly. As far as I was concerned, I was living each of those details every day. Sometimes, I’d even flash back to that time. I still do, though it’s much less frequent now. I didn’t need to write it down so I could happen upon it later in my life and relive it all over again.
And then came my rainbow baby. Then COVID shutdowns. My miscarriage was always there, in the back of my mind, but other things overtook it. I thought I had moved on.
In many ways, I had. But she showed up a lot over the years. Theme songs of television shows my living daughter watched while I recovered started reappearing as my son reached the same age she was at the time. Hospital smells. Talking about trauma in trauma-informed educator trainings.
Shortly after I published The Write Place, one of my friends mentioned how poignant it was that Mac lost a sister. “Your daughter lost a sister, too,” she mentioned. “How powerful that you were able to use that grief to drive your story.” It hadn’t occurred to me that this is what I had done, but I felt victorious. Look at me, I thought. Well-adjusted enough that I’m writing about grief and sharing it with the world. My therapist would be proud.
But saying Mac’s grief was like my own always felt disingenuous. Yes, all grief is similar in a lot of ways, but there is a very specific difference when it comes to losing someone you’ve never met. It’s the kind of grief people want you to move on from because it’s not tangible. How do you miss someone you never got a chance to hold? How do you mark time that has passed in what-ifs and theoreticals? Sure, maybe my daughter would have been going to kindergarten this year. Maybe she would have worn pigtails and dressed up like princesses. Maybe her and my living daughter would have been best friends. Maybe not. It feels impossible to grieve something that was never meant to be. And yet…we do. Because grief is love with nowhere to go. And, while I have a lot of people and things to love, there’s still one I don’t.
This school year has been one of the hardest I’ve ever had. And with that difficulty comes mental strain. And with mental strain always, always comes thoughts of her. Am I doing what I’m supposed to be doing? We want to attach meaning to these types of events (even though, sometimes, bad shit just happens). “Everything happens for a reason,” we are told. And we want that to be true. Did I lose her so I could be reminded that life is fragile? That my children are important? That my relationship with my husband is equally important? That no one loves me like he does, and no one would have been as steadfast as he was during that time…so that I, in turn, can write these stories about steadfast love and women who deserve to be loved not only in spite of, but because of their trauma?
Grief has been a part of almost every book I’ve written, but when I started writing Not a Strong Enough Word, I knew it had to be embedded into every page. This was a second chance romance. She left him without warning. She was gone for five years. He grieved her loss. She grieved a loss, too, though she never told anyone but her therapist.
And then it occurred to me that the daughter we lost has also been gone for about five years. That the way Ryan takes care of Scarlett is the way my husband took care of me—the way I wish people accepted me after the fact. That the way Scarlett says people felt like her being blacklisted in publishing was contagious and avoided her was similar to the way I felt some people treated me. That, in keeping Ryan in the dark, he craved answers the way I did. That his tattoo was cathartic in the way mine was.
That the way Scarlett hid away is the way I’ve been hiding from this—thinking I’m fine when I’m not. I might never fully be. And when those emotions hit the surface—like they do for her—they’re harder to tamp down.
That five years is so long, and yet no time at all. That the five-year mark felt significant. Like it was time to break out and start a new chapter.
When it came time to write about Scarlett’s loss, I spent a couple of days avoiding it. Writing about hers should be easier than writing about my own, right? (Haha, no.) And then I did what I usually do when it comes to doing things I would rather avoid. I… just did it. I didn’t overthink it. I said, “Now’s the time,” and sat down to write before I could talk myself out of it.
Scarlett’s story deserves to be told. So does Ryan’s. So does mine.
This is a post about miscarriage. Not a Strong Enough Word is a book about miscarriage. But it’s also not in the way that everything post-loss is about my loss and not about my loss. Allie Samberts doesn’t exist without Olivia. Scarlett and Ryan don’t either. But we are all so much more than our losses. And those losses have led us to the great loves of our lives. For me, writing books. For Scarlett, the same. For Ryan, molding her words into something for the world to see. But for all of us, it’s also the people we’ve met along the way who fold us into their lives. Who accept that loving someone who has lost is never easy, but always worth it. Who let us cry and be messy. Who know we are strong enough not only despite our loss, but because of it.
When I say I wrote this book for me, I meant it. When I finished it, I felt lighter. Characters say that in books all the time, but its a real thing. Not just in the way an author always feels when they finish the book. It was more like I crafted these characters who held so much of my own experience, and they were so loved. I wanted to cry and laugh and run ten miles and go on a date with my husband and squeeze my kids.
I guess my therapist was right. I don’t see her anymore, but I should probably send her a copy and let her know.
It is both the scariest and easiest thing in the world to share this book with you. I never expected to write it, or to write about this topic, but somehow it was torn out of me anyway—straight from my heart and onto the page.
Now, I hope it finds your heart, too.
If you preordered paperbacks from my website, they should be in the mail next week!! I have plenty more if you still want to order one in time for release!
Prefer to support me AND an indie bookstore? You can preorder from Heartbound Book Shop through May 5!
Want to try to win a signed copy of Not a Strong Enough Word? Enter the Goodreads giveaway! It is open to US only, and closes May 10.
I will also be removing ebook preorders from my website on May 8 to prepare to get it into Kindle Unlimited on release day, May 14. Don’t worry if you ordered one—it’ll get emailed to you from BookFunnel on release day! But I know having access to books as part of a subscription is financially important right now, so I want to make sure everyone can get it if they want. To that end, if you preorder from me by May 8, you can use code EBOOK to get a special discount.
Looking for something to read while you wait for Not a Strong Enough Word? Hannah Bird just released a beautiful, beachy new book that you are going to need to get your hands on!
A two week beach vacation with a near-perfect stranger.
Tess Monroe has done a lot of crazy things, but this just might top the list.
After years spent trying everything to keep the sadness from her parents’ deaths at bay, Tess has hit a wall. It’s time for a change, and part of that means stopping her annual stays at the resort she’s been visiting since childhood. Hell-bent on making the most of her last trip, she’s thrown for a loop when a man she shared a chance encounter with almost a year ago shows up, crashing her summer vacation.
Kit Llewellyn has a good thing going. He’s a Sheriff’s deputy in a small town with a bachelor reputation that precedes him. But one fateful weekend with Tess left him acutely aware of everything he lacks in life. Namely, her. Try as he might, he can’t get her out of his head. Which is how he finds himself checking into the Carmen, with no better plan than to make himself as unforgettable for Tess as she has been for him.
Two weeks at a resort can’t possibly heal what took a lifetime to break. But when Tess and Kit, who’ve spent years running from their respective problems, finally run into each other, those raw edges stop feeling quite so jagged. It’s got them both wondering what happens next; a question that would take more PTO than either of them has to finally answer.
Fate may have brought them together, but it’s up to Kit and Tess to decide if their stay is worth extending, or if they should check out before any more hearts get broken.
And coming May 7 from Ashtyn Kiana…
He wasn’t what I was looking for,
but we could be exactly what the other needs.
Adrian Jones
Moving to Amada Beach was meant to be temporary. I’d finish my D.V.M. at one of the best programs in the country, then decide where I wanted to start my career.
What I never saw coming–at the grocery store no less–was the pretty girl with the lightning gray eyes who didn’t even give me a second glance. But when a month passes and there’s no sign of her, my new job at the vet clinic is the last place I expected to see her again.
The more she allows me to see, the more I’m charmed by Blake, and this little town she loves.
Blake Miller
There’s this feeling of being stuck that’s plagued me most of my life, whether it’s due to bullies in school or being unsure of my plans for the future. It’s always been there.
When the best of intentions leads to some questionable choices, the vision for my future slowly starts to come into focus. Maybe there is a career for me at the vet clinic that doesn’t involve medicine after all.
And it’s no coincidence that these changes are happening after meeting Adrian, the carefree, sunshine-personified man who was hired by my father as the new vet assistant.
Thanks for being here. Truly. Your messages and comments about this book and how dear it is to me have been a balm for my weary soul. And if you haven’t ordered it or gotten an ARC, I hope you check it out on May 14.
Happy reading!
Allie