Jamilah’s Loss Story

Do you know how common it is to have a miscarriage or stillbirth? It’s something most people don’t really think about until it happens to them. Strangely, despite its frequency, no one talks about it. It’s not a conversation that comes up around the dinner table, during gatherings, or in everyday conversations.

It’s almost as if this subject is labeled taboo. No one wants to share what actually happens during a miscarriage. This “dirty, little topic” is swept under the rug, leaving women clueless about what happens after their doctors tell them, “Your baby no longer has a heartbeat.”

Because no one talks about it, a woman leaves the hospital feeling alone. She knows no one else who has been through this type of loss. She feels like this is a unique situation only to her and that something is wrong with her. She may even feel guilty and blame herself. Thoughts like, “What did I do wrong?” and “If only I had done [insert whatever she thinks could have been different], my baby would still be with me” frequently run through a grieving mother’s mind, leading to isolation and depression.

Then, just as a woman or her partner finds the courage to tell others what they’ve experienced, they discover they are not alone in this type of loss. Suddenly, they are introduced to a secret society of women who respond with, “I’ve had one too.”

Where were these people before? They could have saved others from feeling guilty and broken. Why do they now, all of a sudden, have the courage to admit and share their experience? There’s a lingering stigma associated with open dialogue about baby loss. We openly grieve children, teenagers, and adults who pass away; why can’t the same be done for preterm babies who don’t make it and stillborns?

Women like me, Jamilah Robinson, have made it their mission to bring awareness to pregnancy and baby loss. After two miscarriages in 2018, I felt alone and suffered silently, not knowing that many other mothers had gone through what happened to me.

Unaware of a community of women who could help, I followed my calling to create something specifically for this type of loss. Before Missing Pieces Support Group Texas was born, I wanted to understand how current grief support groups operated. So, I participated in a local group in town, telling myself it was for testing and research. Seven weeks later, I found myself bonded with several other amazing women who had been where I was: hopeless, sad, and miserable, but who had found coping mechanisms and hope through time spent together talking about their grief.

Participating in the support group was instrumental in my healing process. It gave me the courage and desire to heal the wounds that were holding me back and helped me realize that the only way I could really help myself was by helping others.

In August 2021, I invited four friends to join me in officially forming a nonprofit organization to help people currently battling what we had endured and to guide them to the other side of surviving their grief.

I realized that when I opened my mouth to talk about pregnancy loss and the newly formed nonprofit, the words flowed fluidly, in a meaningful way that made an impact. It’s not about me anymore. It’s about helping as many women and families feel like they are not alone in their journey of life after loss.

In 2020, my husband and I delivered our rainbow baby, Lacy Olivia Robinson. Lacy serves as our family’s official promise that God is always with us. Lacy’s brother, Cameron, enjoys his new role as Resident Big Brother, carefully watching over Lacy and showing her new things!

I am most passionate about expressing my faith and helping others. Whether it’s assisting business clients with their online presence, supporting ministries at my church, making others feel better about themselves, or adding value to their lives while sharing God’s message is what gets me out of bed every morning.

For more information about Missing Pieces Support Group and our work, visit missingpiecessupportgroup.org