Pregnancy
and infant loss. It’s not something I had ever talked about, let alone thought
about. Sure, in my worst moments I thought that I would never be a mother; I
still have those thoughts now but for entirely different reasons.
When I used
to think such thoughts, it was more a philosophical reasoning. Maybe I would
never find a man worthy of being a father. Maybe I would be off travelling the
world and find that the time had passed. I thought that miscarriage was something that
happened to ‘other people’ after all, I had only ever known one woman to have a
miscarriage and she had been told not to get pregnant due to medication she was
taking at the time.
Now I am
filled with fear about recurrent pregnancy loss and I feel like part of this
was my total ignorance of miscarriage statistics. If I had known how common it
was, and that no matter how painful, many early early miscarriages are due to
the body’s natural detection of genetic abnormalities, I might not have
struggled with guilt. The SANDS website (see link at the end of this post)
says:
Each year in
Australia, approximately 150,000 couples experience reproductive loss;
about 147,000
experience a miscarriage,
1,750 babies are
stillborn
and about 850 babies
die in the first 28 days after birth.
I can’t tell
you the number of times I cried to my husband, apologising for killing his
baby. I can’t tell you the number of times he held me and reassured me that
there was nothing we could have done. He believed it because that’s what the
doctor had told him. I found it hard to believe because if it was so common,
how come no one I knew had gone through this?
My life is
full of amazing women. Most of these have children. In fact, the only women I
know who don’t have children are those who have told me straight out that they
aren’t ready yet. My husband’s three siblings have welcomed 5 children in the
last 5 years with another on the way. It seems that even within our own family
we are the 1-in-4.
It hurts me
now to realise that surely there are women who I count among my friends who
have suffered through pregnancy loss alone. Why do we do this? Why do we allow
our friends, sisters, cousins to suffer alone?
In my case,
I know that one of the main reasons I didn’t want to tell people was because of
a sense of guilt. That I was somehow defective because I couldn’t manage to
keep my baby alive. I now know that that’s likely not the case. Another bigger
reason was that I didn’t want to hear the crappy platitudes they would be
likely to give.
“At least
you know you CAN get pregnant.”
“You’ll be
able to have fun trying again.”
“It must be
part of God’s plan.”
“There was
probably something wrong with the baby, so it’s better this way.”
And worse
than that, I didn’t want to hear anything that turned the blame to me.
“You know
older women have a higher chance of miscarriage, don’t you?”
“Do you
think it’s because you are overweight?”
“Are you too
stressed? You need to relax and focus on your baby.”
“Did you eat
something you shouldn’t have?”
“You did
give up alcohol, didn’t you?”
“Do you
still let your husband smoke?”
I just wish
that people would approach the loss of a child, no matter the time, like they
would the death of any other family member or friend. I read on a miscarriage forum
the other day that the only acceptable response when someone tells you they
have had a miscarriage is, “I’m so sorry for your loss.”
I found a
beautiful “Wish list” on the Bears of Hope website.
Wishes of An Angel's
Mum & Dad
- I
wish you would not be afraid to mention my baby. Just because you never
saw him doesn't mean he doesn't deserve your recognition.
- I
wish that if we did talk about my baby and I cried you didn't think it was
because you have hurt me by mentioning him. I need to cry and talk about my
baby with you, it helps me heal.
- I
wish you could tell me you are sorry my baby has died and that you are
thinking of me, it tells me you care.
- I
wish you wouldn't think what has happened is one big bad memory for me.
The memory of my baby, the love I feel for my baby and the dreams I had
for him are all loving memories. Yes there are bad memories too, but
please understand that it's not all like that.
- I
wish you wouldn't judge me because I’m not acting the way you think I
should be. Grief is a very personal thing and we’re all different people
who deal with things differently.
- I
wish you wouldn't think if I have a good day I'm ok or if I have a bad day
I’m being unreasonable. There is no "normal" way for me to act.
- I
wish you wouldn't expect me to “feel better” in a few weeks, months, or
years for that matter. It may get easier with time but I will never be
"over" this.
- I
wish you could tell me you are thinking of me on my baby’s birthday,
Mothers Day, celebration times and the day my baby died. These are all
important and sad days for me.
- I
wish you understood that losing my baby has changed me. I’m not the same
person I was before and I’ll never be that person again. If you keep
waiting for me to get back to "normal" you’ll stay frustrated. I
am a new person with new thoughts, dreams, beliefs, and values. Please try
to get to know the ‘new’ me, you might even still like me.
Author Unknown
The last
point really resonates with me. As I wrote last week, I know that my heart has
been changed. I am still trying to work out what that means.
So I was
brave today. With my husband’s consent (because it’s not just about me) I
posted about our loss on Facebook. I want people to know that I am a mother,
even though I don’t have a baby here to hold. And I want the other women I know
who have suffered in silence to know that they have a friend who is sharing
this most horrible experience.
If you, or
someone you know is struggling with pregnancy or infant loss, you might like to
check out the following websites. There are many out there, I have found these
ones really helpful.
