Wednesday, April 12, 2006
I have more good moments than bad these days. My body seems to think it is still pregnant.....I have a poochy belly as if I am 2 months pregnant. I guess it is still all those hormones! Jonathan and I feel that this m/c was a miracle, we never thought we could conceive again without ivf/icsi. We will be trying and just see what happens. We had been doing that for the past 2 years without any success, but I've been reading that I am more fertile now. I am going to try and not get on a month to month roller coaster of emotions and over analyzing every symptom. I believe with all of my heart that we will be blessed again. I just can't believe that I am sane after losing 10 babies during the course of our 10 year marriage.....God's grace is surely keeping me full of peace! Despite everything, I have never lost hope and seem to bounce back. But there is always that fear that I'll never see two lines on an hpt or deliver another healthy child. I feel so blessed that God chose me and Jonathan to parent our twin boys. They are more than just a blessing or miracle to us.....but it still doesn't make the losses any easier. Sometimes I think about those that have lost children of all ages and their loss is of a memory that they have of a face and times they had together.......and I get sad thinking of all the babies we've lost, wondering if they were boys/girls, what they would have looked like, what their personalities would be like and I get overwhelmed that so many of us have losses.......But I am so grateful for Hannah's Prayer forum because I know there are so many who understand and will not judge.....especially when my feelings are so raw at times.
Sunday, April 02, 2006
Respecting that all losses are worthy of their own individual grief.
"I just talked to our friend Jane, she sounded pretty down.", My girlfriend shared with me over coffee recently.
"Oh, did she say why?", I replied. Not really thinking about it.
"She had a miscarriage over the weekend." My girlfriend sipped her drink.
"How awful. I should give her a call." I said, my heart sinking.
"Oh, I am sure she's fine, she was only 7 weeks along. Yeah well... did you want to go shopping this weekend?"
I don't care to count how often conversations like this one have been had. Why is it that an early pregnancy loss is somehow deemed ok to be minimized? Would my friend have found more compassion if this loss happened at 14 weeks? 28 weeks? 40 weeks? What are the criteria that a loss must meet before others deem it worthy of grieving and respecting?
Is this a religious thing? Does it matter where you stand on that question of when life begins? Is it a result of people's positions politically? Is it just a fact that unless you've been there too, you simply don't have any context within which to understand the crushing anguish that follows the loss of a child? The gracious side of me chooses to believe that it is the latter. I believe that generally, people just are not aware that they are doing so when they diminish a loss.
The moment you find out that you are pregnant, you don't call up your partner and say, "Honey guess what? I am carrying a fetus that is not viable yet, but will be in 28 weeks if we are lucky." You say, "We are having a baby." The second you see the positive result on that home test, or your doctor confirms with a test at the office, your mind fast forwards to a huge growing belly, maternity clothing, decorating the nursery, dreams and hopes about the baby who is alive inside you, their gender, who they will look like, what you will name them. A lifetime of these things passes through your mind in the first moments! You are going to be a mother and a father. You are going to have a baby.
For anyone who has suffered the loss of a wanted baby during pregnancy at any stage or as an infant - it is devastating. Period. Why is this heirarchy allowed to perpetuate that quantifies the value of our loss, and then sets a limit on the depth and the longevity of the subsequent mourning and grief? What can we as individuals to do dispell the widely held beliefs that the earlier the loss, the easier it will be?
It seems though, that this strange and ambiguous cloud hangs only over these early pregnancy and infant losses. I don't think I have ever heard anyone say, "Well, thank goodness the child was only three years old when they died, the parents were not as attached as they would be if he was ten." Followed by the token statement: "Well, at least they can have more children." Of course, statements like these, when viewed against the backdrop of a toddler death are so clearly inappropriate, and would never be spoken or hopefully even cross the mind. Why then, does it happen so often for early losses?
Whenever we hear about someone losing a child, we almost always want to know how old they were. As if the loss of a newborn is somehow harder than the loss where the child was stillborn late-term or whose heartbeat was never located in ultrasound at 12 weeks. Do people reserve their reaction to the news of the loss for a time when they can place the loss on a rung of the loss ladder? Are they unsure how to respond without knowing the age of the baby that was lost? Does a miscarriage earn a "Oh, well that is sad." where a full-term loss deserves "Oh, they must be devastated." and then any losses of a child who was born alive deserves tears? Of course not.
The moment we learn that we are pregnant we are all on equal ground. We are all in the same place, having the same thoughts and dreams. Learning that your child is gone is equally difficult regardless of the stage at which the loss has occurred. Prior to my experiences with my own losses, I would never have thought that I too was guilty of measuring others' losses by ladder rungs. Yet, I was. But no more; for my part, I pledge to speak up in defense of a loss that is about to be dismissed. I believe that one of the duties that is bestowed upon us as bereaved parents is to extend a glimpse into the depths of our loss onto others. We have a unique opportunity to offer the understanding we have to those who have not been touched by these experiences.
© 2006 Rowan Tree Foundation
"I just talked to our friend Jane, she sounded pretty down.", My girlfriend shared with me over coffee recently.
"Oh, did she say why?", I replied. Not really thinking about it.
"She had a miscarriage over the weekend." My girlfriend sipped her drink.
"How awful. I should give her a call." I said, my heart sinking.
"Oh, I am sure she's fine, she was only 7 weeks along. Yeah well... did you want to go shopping this weekend?"
I don't care to count how often conversations like this one have been had. Why is it that an early pregnancy loss is somehow deemed ok to be minimized? Would my friend have found more compassion if this loss happened at 14 weeks? 28 weeks? 40 weeks? What are the criteria that a loss must meet before others deem it worthy of grieving and respecting?
Is this a religious thing? Does it matter where you stand on that question of when life begins? Is it a result of people's positions politically? Is it just a fact that unless you've been there too, you simply don't have any context within which to understand the crushing anguish that follows the loss of a child? The gracious side of me chooses to believe that it is the latter. I believe that generally, people just are not aware that they are doing so when they diminish a loss.
The moment you find out that you are pregnant, you don't call up your partner and say, "Honey guess what? I am carrying a fetus that is not viable yet, but will be in 28 weeks if we are lucky." You say, "We are having a baby." The second you see the positive result on that home test, or your doctor confirms with a test at the office, your mind fast forwards to a huge growing belly, maternity clothing, decorating the nursery, dreams and hopes about the baby who is alive inside you, their gender, who they will look like, what you will name them. A lifetime of these things passes through your mind in the first moments! You are going to be a mother and a father. You are going to have a baby.
For anyone who has suffered the loss of a wanted baby during pregnancy at any stage or as an infant - it is devastating. Period. Why is this heirarchy allowed to perpetuate that quantifies the value of our loss, and then sets a limit on the depth and the longevity of the subsequent mourning and grief? What can we as individuals to do dispell the widely held beliefs that the earlier the loss, the easier it will be?
It seems though, that this strange and ambiguous cloud hangs only over these early pregnancy and infant losses. I don't think I have ever heard anyone say, "Well, thank goodness the child was only three years old when they died, the parents were not as attached as they would be if he was ten." Followed by the token statement: "Well, at least they can have more children." Of course, statements like these, when viewed against the backdrop of a toddler death are so clearly inappropriate, and would never be spoken or hopefully even cross the mind. Why then, does it happen so often for early losses?
Whenever we hear about someone losing a child, we almost always want to know how old they were. As if the loss of a newborn is somehow harder than the loss where the child was stillborn late-term or whose heartbeat was never located in ultrasound at 12 weeks. Do people reserve their reaction to the news of the loss for a time when they can place the loss on a rung of the loss ladder? Are they unsure how to respond without knowing the age of the baby that was lost? Does a miscarriage earn a "Oh, well that is sad." where a full-term loss deserves "Oh, they must be devastated." and then any losses of a child who was born alive deserves tears? Of course not.
The moment we learn that we are pregnant we are all on equal ground. We are all in the same place, having the same thoughts and dreams. Learning that your child is gone is equally difficult regardless of the stage at which the loss has occurred. Prior to my experiences with my own losses, I would never have thought that I too was guilty of measuring others' losses by ladder rungs. Yet, I was. But no more; for my part, I pledge to speak up in defense of a loss that is about to be dismissed. I believe that one of the duties that is bestowed upon us as bereaved parents is to extend a glimpse into the depths of our loss onto others. We have a unique opportunity to offer the understanding we have to those who have not been touched by these experiences.
© 2006 Rowan Tree Foundation
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