It was my Fault
“It Was My Fault”: Meeting Guilt After Baby Loss With Truth, Tenderness, and the Body
For every mother who has whispered, “Maybe this was my fault.” I’m holding your hand here.
If you’re here, you’re brave
When a baby dies—through miscarriage, stillbirth, TFMR, or shortly after birth—many women turn the sharpest blade inward. We replay every step: the extra walk, the coffee, the stress, the fast food, the thought we shouldn’t have thought. We ask: What if I had done something different? Would my baby still be here?
Stop right here.
No—it wasn’t your fault.
It was not the extra walk, the occasional fast food, or the worry. Nothing you did—or didn’t do—caused your baby’s early goodbye or would have changed an “unviable” diagnosis. You didn’t fail. Your body didn’t fail. Your doctors didn’t “miss the one magic thing.” You may allow yourself to trust again.
I know this not just as a teacher, but as a mother. After losing my daughter, Aïscha, I felt hollow—heart, body, womb. I needed someone to hold space for the truth and for my love. Yoga became that place—often still, often tearful—where I learned to breathe again and to carry my grief with reverence rather than blame.
This post is a soft place to land when guilt and shame feel loud. We won’t rush. We won’t fix. We will feel—gently, in the body—and we will tell the truth.
Why “fault” feels safer than grief (even when it hurts)
Blame can feel like control. If it was my fault, then the world is not random—there’s a rule I can follow next time. Guilt can also be love in disguise: If I hold the blame, I keep my baby close. And for TFMR mothers, shame is often layered—grief joined by the impossible weight of an excruciating decision.
But this is also true:
Grief is not a problem to solve; it’s love with nowhere to go.
Your body did not betray you; your body is carrying what is unbearable.
Blame doesn’t make you safer; it just makes you lonelier.
When we soften the grip of blame, we don’t abandon our baby—we make more space to remember them with tenderness, ritual, and community.
What your nervous system might be doing
You may notice:
Looping thoughts (“What if…?” “If only…”)
Tight chest, shallow breath, numbness, or buzzing energy
Difficulty sleeping, or sudden floods of guilt when you laugh or feel light for a moment
Nothing here is “wrong.” Your body is trying to protect you. Rather than fighting it, we can befriend it—one breath, one sensation at a time.
Gentle invitations (trauma-sensitive practices)
These are invitations, not instructions. You choose how, when, and whether to engage. Pause anytime.
1) The Three-Place Breath (3–5 minutes)
Place one hand on your heart, one on your lower belly, and, if it helps, lean your back against a wall.
Inhale slowly as if the breath could touch your heart, ribs, belly—three places, one wave.
Exhale with a sigh, letting your jaw soften.
Whisper (silently or aloud): “I didn’t cause this. I’m allowed to rest.”
2) Supported Stillness (as long as you like)
Cocoon yourself: blanket around your shoulders, a pillow under your knees, a cushion at your low back.
Let your body be heavy. No need to “do” yoga. Being is the practice.
If thoughts spiral, place a steady palm on your chest and repeat: “This is grief, not guilt. My love is welcome here.”
3) Hand-to-Heart Truth-Telling (2 minutes)
Press one palm to your heart, one to your womb.
Speak three truths:
“I wanted my baby.”
“I did the best I could with what I knew.”
“My love is still here.”
Try to tenderly reframe your common guilt loops from
“My body failed.” to My body survived the unbearable and is carrying my love and pain. I can learn to befriend it again.
“If only I’d rested more / eaten better / worried less.” to No everyday action causes or cures chromosomal differences, structural anomalies, or many pregnancy losses. I couldn’t have controlled this.
“I chose to end the pregnancy (TFMR). I don’t deserve healing.” to You made an impossible decision out of love in an impossible situation. Your grief is sacred. You deserve support, softness, and remembrance.
“If I feel joy, I’m betraying my baby.” to Joy does not replace love; it sits beside it. Joy can be a way your baby’s memory lives through you.
For partners and family reading this
Please don’t rush her pain or try to reason it away. Guilt doesn’t yield to logic; it softens in presence. Try:
“I believe you did nothing wrong.”
“I’m here for every feeling—no fixing.”
“May I say your baby’s name with you?”
Rituals that honour without blaming
Name and candle: Speak your baby’s name and light a candle at the same hour each week.
Love letter: Write a letter that begins, “If love could talk, it would tell me…” Place it somewhere sacred.
Grief walk: Choose a route where you can cry if needed. Each step: “I carry you.”
Tiny altar: A photo, a stone, a flower. Not a shrine to suffering, but a corner of love.
When to seek extra support
If guilt turns to relentless self-punishment, intrusive thoughts, or hopelessness, please reach out to a trauma-informed professional or a perinatal loss counsellor. Support is a kindness to you and a devotion to your baby’s memory.
You’re allowed to trust your body again
Trust won’t arrive all at once. It grows in small, repeatable moments: a breath that lands, a tear that’s welcomed, a night of sleep, a laugh you let stay. Each is a thread. Together, they weave belonging in your own skin.
Remember: You didn’t cause this. Your love is not on trial. Your grief is a sacred act of love—and you don’t have to carry it alone.
This is an invitation for me to you to be held in your grief
🌿 Self-Paced Grief Yoga Course (coming soon)
Move, breathe, and rest at your own rhythm — especially created for mothers navigating TFMR and baby loss. A gentle return to your body, one breath at a time.
💨 Empty Arms, Full Breath: Breathwork for Bereaved Mothers
Begin with guided breathwork session to calm your nervous system and reconnect with your body. A first, step toward feeling safe within yourself again.
🤍 Empty Arms, Full Heart Yoga Circle
A nurturing community with gentle yoga, remembrance rituals, and ongoing support — a space where your grief, your love, and your baby all belong.
🌺 Grief Yoga Retreat in Morocco
Immerse yourself in nature, nourishing food, cultural rhythm, and 1:1 care — a tender homecoming for your body and heart.
If you’re whispering, “I’m not ready,” that’s okay. You don’t have to be ready — just willing.
Your story belongs here.
Journal prompts to meet guilt with compassion
If guilt were trying to protect me, what would it be afraid of?
What do I know to be true about my love for my baby?
What would I say to a dear friend who believes it was her fault?
Where in my body do I feel blame today? What happens if I place a warm hand there and breathe?
What small ritual of remembrance do I want this week?
A closing blessing for you
May your heart be cradled in the truth: you did nothing wrong.
May your body feel safe enough to soften, even for one breath.
May your baby’s memory be met with love, not judgment.
And may you be held—in community, in ritual, in rest—as long as you need.
