"It's not what you look at that matters, it's what you see."-- Henry David Thoreau
I had someone ask me if I was okay this past weekend. I am. I'm okay. I told her that I was okay just tired. Of course, we had to push the issue. So I finally told her my secret. "I had a miscarriage on Saturday", I said. The response was - "You should have told me." (I appreciate the thought and the concern after the beans were spilled. I do know that she meant well. But you know? It's not the person that got me - I mean, she knows this hell. She does. She has lived it too. It's just the culmination of so many years of this and it just pushed a button.)
I should have told you! I? I should have told you? What am I supposed to do? Run an ad in the paper? Take out a billboard? Sit down at the table and say, "I can't carry a child, can you pass the potato salad?" or "Whoops, I dropped another one!"? Is that what you wanted to hear?
No. I don't deserve special treatment and I certainly won't ask for it. Why do you think I don't tell? I had a party to put together. I didn't have time to cry. I didn't have time for the breakdown that I needed this time. Sometimes when they happen I'm fine. Sometimes, as I'm getting older, as Jacob is getting older, I'm realizing that my time is running out. I wonder what God's plan is and I always hurt for my husband. So, sometimes I'm not.
It's really hard to be an infertile. It's hard to fit in. Newly pregnant women that know about your inability are afraid to share their news with you. You watch moms in the store and can't help but think I'd so be a better mom to those kids than you are. You dread baby shower invitations arriving in your mailbox. It seems all around you are on pins and needles anticipating your reactions when there is a mom-to-be in the vicinity. Worse, are the people who refuse to discuss any and every mention of miscarriage, loss or failure. Or the people that think they know you and what you would want so they intentionally leave you out. And the people who constantly have to rub your nose into your failure like the new Grandma who is so thrilled with her daughter's or son's impending new arrival that they can't wait to tell you every last damn detail of this miracle while you don't know if you will ever experience this flaunting for yourself and your unborn. Oh - wait! I can't believe I almost forgot this...I have the one that tops them all! The pregnant woman who calls you often to tell you how miserable she is being pregnant, "so that you won't think it's so great to BE pregnant and you'll feel better". Yes, yes, and she told me this like she was doing me a HUGE favor and I should be so appreciative of her for thinking of me! Little does she realize, what I would give to experience every flutter, every nauseous moment, every nibble of every cracker and every sip of ginger ale...
(For the record: Pregnant women do not make me uncomfortable anymore. I am in awe of them and the miracle they have been chosen to carry. Baby Showers are fine with me. I've hosted a few myself and mostly, I enjoy them - now. I do recall those feelings and I certainly appreciate those who ask "are you okay with this?" first.)
It's funny, most fertiles seem to think there is a statute of limitations on this whole infertility thing - and you know, for awhile, I did too. Most of you thought adopting Jacob should have solved all of my problems. I'm sorry to inform you both of these thoughts are wrong! I was wrong! Let me ask you these; Is there a time limit on grief? Is one child ever a replacement for another? How would you feel if it were you? Would you want someone to put this 'having to get over it' onto your shoulders? On top of what you already carry? Then I think, "my God, I can't carry a child - now I don't even grieve for one correctly!"
I'm not going to tell everyone every time I lose a child. I very likely won't tell anyone. I hope the quote I shared helps us all to remember that the things we show for everyone to look at aren't all that we're made up of. You need to see what is going on/has gone on inside to truly know what someone is made of.
**I originally posted this with comments off. (I know, I always come back when I do that so why bother in the first place.) I turned them back on. I'm always hoping when I speak my true thoughts on miscarriages/infertility that I can reach a 'Mom' and have my thoughts be the words she needed to hear. I know that if it were me, I'd want to thank the person who gave that to me AND the only way for her to do that is to comment.
I want to comment, even though I know I'm probably not your intended audience. I was actually glad to see you share this here, because (as you know), I really think writing about these moments of utter despair helps move us on toward the path of healing.
ReplyDeleteThat being said, I also don't think that a 'path of healing' should have any time table. That makes almost everyone uncomfortable. They don't like reading about your grief, listening to it (of course this is not EVERYONE, but people, in general). People don't know what to say. People mean well, but they don't understand. They don't realize that saying nothing is often worse than saying the wrong thing.
I have felt the pressure of needing to be "over" things myself. I sense people's uncomfortability with me not being there, even after more loss and the passage of time. I'm not sure these are things you ever really get over. If I have a child some day, I will still not be over losing my others. No human soul is a "replacement" for another, as you said. And even though I know how happy you are to be Jacob's mother, it will never take these losses away, make them better, make the 'infertile' part hurt less. It just doesn't work that way. And it's hard for people to understand.
I want you to know you've been in my thoughts and prayers. I'm so very sorry for your loss. I wish I could take it away, or make you feel better. Just know that I'm hear if you need to talk.
I think it's brave to right when your feelings are this raw. I want to thank you for that bravery. It inspires me.
*Hugs*
Oh my gosh Gail, I am so very sorry. You are in my thoughts and prayers during this very difficult time. I pray the Lord will be with you; that He will provide you strength and comfort you.
ReplyDeleteI hate how society, how people, put a time line on grief. How mothers are expected to just "get over" a loss of a child. Just thinking about this makes my belly boil, it upsets me so much. As you and Em have articulated, there is no replacement for a human soul. None.
You are in my prayers.
Em, I think you nailed it on the head when you said that people don't know what to say. That's me. I haven't been unlucky in my fertility. In fact, I've been blessed w/ kids I didn't even know I wanted. I don't know the grief that women experience at miscarrying. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to do. I pray, I try my best to empathize. I try to listen and let you guys know that I'll be there to do whatever I can.
ReplyDeleteGail, I will continue to pray for your strength to make it through and survive. I will continue to be grateful for you willingness to share. To let a little more light on this subject some of us have no real experience in. I hope that I will eventually know what to say so you can understand that I'm here for YOU.
Gail, I am so sorry. I wish there was something I could do for you. I had a miscarriage so I kinda of know how you feel, But have also been blessed with children, and can't imagine how you feel there. Please try to stay strong, and I will put you in my prayers. If there is anything I can do for you PLEASE let me know even if it's just to talk. Love and Miss Ya.
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