Webster's Dictionary defines miscarriage as, "the spontaneous explosion of a human fetus before it is viable and especially between the 12th and 28th weeks of gestation."
Wikipedia states that a miscarriage is, "is an unscientific term for an abortion that is the natural end of a pregnancy at a stage where the embryo or fetusis incapable of surviving independently, generally defined in humans at prior to 20 weeks of gestation. Abortion is the most common complication of early pregnancy. Spontaneous abortion is a frequently used clarification to distinguish this natural process from an induced abortion."
My heart disagrees with both definitions. It doesn't care if I miscarried right at four weeks or at eleven weeks. It just knows pain. The severing pain of a dream dying. Of a family that would have been beneficially altered by an additional member.
My brain tries to convince my heart that we are better off without the baby. It would have been born before we were ready, too close in age to another sibling or that it would have been hard financially - not to mention logistically. However, my heart says nonsense. My heart knows that my brain would have figured out how to manage. Muscles can grow, strengthen and that is exactly what the heart is - one huge muscle capable of so much more than people usually give it credit for.