Empty Arms and Empty Hearts

Greetings Earthlings. I would have dropped you a line sooner but when I tried, there seemed to be some problem at the Typepad Mothership. Did you experience that too? As you can see, I'm a bit spacey these days.

My sister and brother-in-law seem to be doing well under the circumstances. I've been contemplating trying to share the feelings that the funeral brought up. It's difficult because I fear coming off like a big old asswipe for thinking of myself instead of them, when their loss is so raw.

I must admit, I think of my miscarriages little these days. I have two wonderfully time-consuming children to fill my days and for that I am very grateful. But when I do think back to those days, to the moment during each of those pregnancies when I knew that the baby I wanted with every fiber of my being would never be, the pain... it hurt so deep inside me. When I first talked to my mother-in-law after Ella died, her tears made me sad. But then a little thought crept in. Had she ever cried for my lost babies? And I knew the answer was no.

For the first time in a long time I thought about my own losses- of each of the children I loved from the moment I knew they were growing inside of me, however minuscule they might be. Interestingly enough, my sister-in-law's pregnancy was such a surprise that she did not realize she was pregnant until she was five months along, meaning that she knew she was pregnant almost exactly the same amount of time that I did the first time I miscarried.

A stillbirth baby is different from a miscarriage. I cannot begin to imagine going through labor for a baby you know will be born dead. I cannot fathom holding my perfectly formed baby, willing its tiny chest to rise. Oh, god...the heartbreak of those moments. Our entire family was ready to welcome this baby- we knew she was a girl and she already had a name. When word spread about what had happened, family and friends pulled together in support. Arrangements were made for the other children, food was brought, flowers were sent. Close to two hundred people came to the funeral service. A tiny white casket was the poignant reminder that this was indeed a real person, intended to become a part of this community that had gathered together...but it was not to be.

What's different about a miscarriage is that you are alone. Medical staff can be callous. Sometimes you're sent to the lab to have blood drawn with a form reading "pregnancy" prompting the nurse to ask when your baby is due. Sometimes, when you're losing your third child, you're not even asked to come in to see the doctor. You are alone, your undignified surroundings being a bathroom, when your body messily expels what was supposed to be your baby. There is nothing to hold or memorialize.  Family and friends don't know what to say, so generally they say nothing. There is no break in the normal activity of life. There is no formal acknowledgment of what should have been a son or a daughter. You struggle with your feelings, wondering why when your heart feels so empty, the world just plods along and even those close to you seem unaffected.

The circumstances surrounding the losses are different and even though no one gets to choose, if given the choice I would take a miscarriage over a stillbirth any day of the week. Even so, the aftermath of both are the same. Empty arms. Empty hearts. Saying goodbye to an entire lifetime of memories you never got to make.

I never did anything to memorialize the babies I lost to miscarriage. Maybe I should have. I think my way of dealing with the pain was to funnel all of my energies into continuing the quest for another baby. And while having my son didn't erase the memories of two very difficult years, he has eased the pain. A lot.

I'm not sure what my point is. That the pain of miscarriage is heightened because it's sometimes not viewed as a real loss? If that's the case, I have no solution. I'm not suggesting funerals for every miscarriage, although the funeral homes would love the extra income. And I honestly don't expect those who haven't gone through it to understand how miscarriage feels. It is what it is, and so I'll just send out my heartfelt condolences to anyone who may have suffered alone.   

 

Comments

[Sarah]

My mother lost my older brother at age 14 (I was a mere suprise Zygote at the time). She has dealt with it in a variety of good and not so good ways. But evry child's death,no matter how different the circumstances brings back her own pain. You have a right to mourn your losses along side your sister in laws.