"I choose to cherish my baby’s memory"
"I grew up at church and I don’t know much about life outside of the church. In 2009, at the age of 25 I met my first boyfriend, almost a year later I found out I was pregnant. Three months into the pregnancy I lost the baby.
"My family were greatly disappointed when they first found out. I was afraid that my career was over and my dream of having children in marriage was dead. I felt like I had let my family, community, church and ultimately God down.
"After losing the baby, I had a yearning to talk about my baby but my family told me, 'we don’t talk about that', referring to my dead baby. During family gatherings it was extremely hard to be happy as we marvelled at my unwedded older brother’s and sister’s children and no-one mentioned my baby.
"My church friends also felt uncomfortable to talk about my baby even though they had their own children. They had also fallen pregnant out of wedlock.
"In the beginning it felt lonely and I was extremely angry, but not anymore. I’ve made peace that to them it was just a miscarriage, but to me it was a baby. His name is Luvuyo. Every year on August 7 I remember that I became a mother even if there’s no seven year-old child running around.
"My body has marks of Luvuyo having existed and lived in my womb for a brief three months. At church I don’t know whether I should stand or sit when they ask mothers to stand up, so I opt to sit down.
"Just because Luvuyo is not here doesn’t mean he didn’t exist. Today I choose to keep the memory of Luvuyo close to my heart. Maybe God had a better plan, I don’t know that yet."
Have you also experienced this isolation Liziwe felt? Were people uncomfortable discussing your miscarriage or admitting that it ever happened? Send your stories to email@example.com for possible publication. If you'd like to remain anonymous, please tell us and we'll withhold your name.