A friend and I were recently discussing the loss of her son, Michael. Her baby died a few weeks before his due date. Technically a miscarriage in the 8th month. Her grief is something she still struggles with every day, even years after the event. What struck me most is her observation of how the majority of people around her deemed her abnormal/strange/crazy for wanting to talk about her loss. Talking about her loss made people uncomfortable. As if losing a pregnancy is not 'polite' social conversation.
I'm writing about this because my friend is not the only person to share this observation with me. Too many of my friends have struggled with the loss of their pregnancies, the loss of their babies and the ensuing societal ostracizing if they grieve out-loud. The common feeling was a sense of isolation, the feeling of guilt when they tried to express their grief to husbands, lovers, friends.
Another friend gave birth to a premature baby boy who only lived a few days. Friends and family commented to me that she was strange for carrying a photo of her dead child and wanting to talk about her experience, her feelings about her son's death. How is that strange, I wondered? So many years ago, I didn't know that mourning with my friend was preparing me to mourn for my own losses.
I know many who still struggle with their grief having lost their babies. The grief is especially hard because our society expects this grief to be private.
I'm raising this topic now as I struggle through my last miscarriage. This loss has me knocked down onto my knees, screaming. I don't care who finds me strange. Obviously, those who judge haven't walked in these shoes. Some of these pregnancies there was no sense of bonding, but like some others, during this last pregnancy there was an amazing bond between me and the soul to come, a connection to this life forming inside of me. There were dreams for this baby's future that will not be realized. There is an emptiness, the loss of not feeling her (yes her) which calls up a primal scream in me that can't be contained some days. It's been years of sometimes feeling her, getting a taste of her and then the disappointment and suppressed grief that has finally spilled out, demanding release.
I am grieving this life lost. I'm grieving this child that I will not hold, this child I felt growing in my body, who woke me in the middle of the night craving strange foods, stirring beautiful dreams. I saw her in my dreams running through orange groves, bouncing, giggling and so free-spirited. This child of mine is not to be. Right now, I am grieving that loss and the hopeless feeling of the loss of Motherhood.
I'm not comfortable writing this publicly, but maybe this will give others the insight to be more compassionate if G-d forbid they know someone who has gone through this or worse, if they personally experience this.
