Here's the thing.
May 12, 2008I know I can have another baby—at least, I'm pretty sure—but right now I don't want another baby. I want the one I had. I saw that baby on the ultrasound, and I liked that baby. That baby was MINE. I spent hours staring at the print-out of what essentially was a gummy bear, and cooing over it. I decided it was some kind of genius baby. In the picture we have, it's kind of sticking its arms out, like it's waving hello at us. Genius! Clearly! Having people tell me that it's for the best, that I'll have another, that what I'm going through right now is all hormones, does not address the difficulty I'm having with the whole idea of THIS baby being gone. Indeed, it seems to imply that the baby wasn't real or meaningful to me. Having someone define the words I wrote in the throes of all this as "good thing it died, because it might have been disabled" makes me want to tear that person's throat out. No. I lost my baby, and it was a good baby, and it was the one I wanted. I realize I never met it, and that I'm not making any rational kind of sense. I realize said baby might have been a genetically nonviable scramble of material. But only I can say that. As for you, you badmouth my baby and I will kick you in the teeth.
I'm a little angry, these days.
Reader Comments (307)
Noone can ever know how it feels to lose a child at any stage of life until it happens to them. It sucks. And it is sucked to have to deal with arseholes while you are grieving.
There are many of us who have lost children (proto-children, beautiful potentials, dreams of future life) out here. We stand behind you silently in case you need us.
The things people have said to me cut like knives. No one has the right to judge you. No one.
I also want to thank you and all the other mommy-bloggers and commenters who are sharing their similar stories, because hopefully you will teach someone not to be an asshat to someone they know.
But you, you are wonderful, and of COURSE you wanted that baby, and I can't imagine feeling any other way in the whole world. Let the incendiary folks incense each other and take all the comments and words from all of us who love you and make a LITTLE salve out of those.
You know, if you want to. But if you're in a throat-ripping mood instead, I could send you a list! Killing two birds with one stone, give it some thought ;)
But you, you are wonderful, and of COURSE you wanted that baby, and I can't imagine feeling any other way in the whole world. Let the incendiary folks incense each other and take all the comments and words from all of us who love you and make a LITTLE salve out of those.
You know, if you want to. But if you're in a throat-ripping mood instead, I could send you a list! Killing two birds with one stone, give it some thought ;)
After we miscarried, our doctor told us to switch donors. In her opinion, I was genetically incompatible with the donor my partner and I had picked, a good friend of ours. We'd been trying with that friend for many months and grieved when we had to go to an anonymous donor. I got pregnant the first try and now take joy every day with my little boy. But still, when I see our friend play with our son, I wonder about June baby. I wonder what he/she would have looked like, what he/she would have been like. I will never forget that bundle of cells that wasn't to be.
As for all the feelings you're experiencing these days, they can all be summed up in the word grief. You are grieving for your baby, the genius baby that you know will never be replaced by another baby, no matter how much you'll love him or her, too. Although the hormones of a recently pregnant woman are certainly not going to make the process any easier, don't think for a minute that the feelings aren't 100% real and legitimate. I think a lot of people want to believe that the pain is just hormones because that holds the promise that it is temporary, but though the acute pain of loss of a loved one - even a loved one we've never met - eases over time, it is as much a permanent part of us as our blood.
Take it day by day. You're a very strong person, even when you don't feel like you are.
Like the previous commenter I, too, still have the gross pee test from the pregnancy that I lost. I can't bring myself to throw it away, because that would be the end of the last evidence that there ever really was a baby. And there WAS a baby, and it was my baby, and it hurt like hell to have it taken away.
I'm due in September with another baby brother for the 2 little savages running around my house now, and I can't help but wonder if that was my girl that I lost. These thoughts don't go away; they just get easier to compartmentalize with time.
Hug your little man as much as he will tolerate it, and then some. Hang in there. Tell people with their venom where to stick it. Actually, I believe you just did. And quite eloquently, too.
Anyway - SHARE - it's here, if you haven't already found it through googling: http://www.nationalshareoffice.com/
You are far braver to share this than I could ever be. I am truly sorry that your bravery is being met, however infrequently, with unkindness on any scale.
I can not know what you are going through, I can only say my heart goes out to you.
I went to one SHARE meeting during my 3 years of miscarrying, but I found that meeting very helpful. You may or may not. Sometimes it really does help to be with someone going through the same thing you are at the same time. If you're interested I will be the women's center at your hospital could put you in touch.
You have a right to be angry, sad, and disappointed. I really think you have to grieve miscarriage just like any other death. Even if you only held that baby in your dreams, you still held it. I'm sorry Alice.