Monday, 1 August 2016

Doing So-So

I didn’t mean to post this at first, but reading the accounts of other mothers who have been through miscarriages has been helpful to me, so I thought I’d share it after all. Maybe someone will find this helpful. 


Grief is an interesting thing. Sometimes you can think about or talk very calmly and sensibly about your feelings and what you've been through, and feel almost fine. You might even pursue your ordinary interests with joy. At other times the smallest thing can make you cry or ache inside, you can loose your appetite from time to time, and find yourself unable to do things. The curtains I was working on for the boys' room have, regrettably, been untouched for three weeks, but the Halloween decorations are progressing nicely... playing is just so much easier than working right now, so work that is not strictly necessary gets shoved aside

Watching my children play is usually a source of joy, but then one day it made me cry - the baby I lost will never run around and play, at least not in this mortal world. I miss the wonderful person it could have been, the cuddles I'll never get.
 
 Finding a pair of baby mittens I knitted before Eldest was born didn't bother me at all, but finding a pair of tiny white baby socks in a cupboard made me go to pieces.
 Gentle words, hugs and acts of  kindness makes me cry, yet I appreciate that people care about me. 


 The fact that my brother and sister in law are expecting around the same time my due date should have been – once a very exciting coincidence - is now mainly a reminder of my own loss. Her bump is so cute, and I’m sad about the fact that I can’t rejoice with them like I would have liked.

That it was most likely something seriously wrong with the poor wee thing and that what happened was probably for the best is a comfort only on an intellectual plane. Emotionally it doesn't matter a jot. As soon as I saw the plus on the pregnancy test, that knot of cells had a place in my heart, and hopes and dreams for what I already considered to be my child were formed, and they deepened and increased as the weeks and months passed. You can't just toss all that out the window, no matter how sensible the reasoning.

"Grief is the price of love" - even if the object of your love was only a few inches long when it was lost to you.

3 comments:

  1. Try not to rationalize how much grief you think you should feel. Try not to let other peoples' coping mechanisms cause you to question your own instincts. What comforts some is a torture to others. Your grief is real and legitimate, and whatever avenue of expression you choose is a testament to your deep love for this child that nobody else ever got to know.

    Your heart has told you everything you need to know about this life and this loss: you are a mother of three children, one of whom you won't meet for a long time. You didn't have very long to love the third baby, but the wee one was loved just the same. You know that your third child will always be your third, no matter how many earthly sons and daughters join your family. You had dreams for this baby, and happy plans for the life that would unfold under your gaze, and that has now been taken away from you.

    You have every single reason in the world to lavish this baby's memory with love, and every reason to grieve for the beautiful life that was cut short. It's okay to show your love by sharing your pain. Please know that, though we are strangers to one another in most ways, I am grieving for you, and for your family. I am so sorry for your loss, and I hope that you allow yourself to mourn in any way that brings you closer to the memory of your baby.

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  2. Thank you for sharing this. :)

    I have only heard from my mum and one other in one-on-one conversation talk about their miscarriages, but know others have gone through them in my church and the wider world, and I feel it's wrong they had to go through it on their own, except for the few who knew them and knew what had happened. I don't wish to perpetuate that, for the lives God created are precious and beautiful and ought to be noted by those who follow Him. So I am hoping here that you do not feel alone in this, and that you are able to grieve wholesomely.

    (I never know what to say, and hope this is not somehow ignorant and painful to read... I want to commend you, and love you in some small way across the intrawebs and the not-having-a-close-relationshipness.)

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  3. Thanks ladies :) I've felt much love from my family and friends, who have popped by now and then with meals or chocolate, like a way of saying "we love you, and we're so sorry for you" when it's difficult to know what to say. Today my friends organised a nice girl's lunch for us, so I could talk things over, and there were some tears but also lots of laughter.

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