Something a friend wrote recently reminded me of this... I started to blog because I wanted to note anecdotes, update family/close friends but also to address and express my feelings, my experiences. Perhaps how I'd imagine a kind of therapy.
I realized that I haven't really opened up about one of my experiences: Losing the chance of being part of a new life. Losing my first baby.
Not to depress or turn all morbid years later, I just never really addressed it properly and I feel if I do it now, it would be 'out there' and perhaps I can feel closure and relief and move on.
I wrote myself a note not long afterwards, while it was fresh. I haven't reread it nor have I searched for it. It's just somewhere safe. For whenever, if ever... At the time, it helped. So as I move forward, this may help too!?!
I cannot imagine how it must feel, for a parent to lose a child after time - meeting and spending time with them 'on the outside'.
I only knew for 3 weeks about the little somebody developing in my womb. It was a surprise, okay, a shock and we took a few days to register the changes and possibilities that may arise. It didn't take long for the excitement to filter through and the planning to commence.
Our 6 week scan showed a good heartbeat (albeit a little hard to find initially, my brain tells me that could be a sign, but I have heard good stories from other friends since so please don't read into that if you have a similar moment). I told my manager at the time, as I worked with boxes of stationery, climbed ladders and lifted heavy archive boxes full of files. I changed the way I did things in work, delegated, without telling colleagues about my pregnancy. I wanted to keep it a secret for a little while longer. Then one day in work, I discovered I was bleeding. Rushing into my manager's office, I said "Something's happening, I need to go to the doctor" and left. My GP was only a few doors away. The rest is a blur. I know I went to the maternity hospital, I know they couldn't find a heartbeat but tried to reassure me that it may well be the useless scanners in the ER. They told me to come back to the Fetal Assessment clinic the following morning, first thing. I didn't feel right. I nervously went to bed. I woke in the night and knew I was losing my baby. Didn't realize I'd be losing a little part of me.
The next few hours were tough, cramping etc. My husband and I still went to the Fetal Assessment clinic for 8am. They did a scan. We were in a room full of people, only thin curtains separating us. I sat there, waiting for someone to come and talk to us while listening to heartbeats of other babies, a mother chattering to a nurse about how she was 33 weeks pregnant and worried about the lack of movement. Her worries fluttering away as she cooed at the sound of their baby, absolutely fine. While a blurry person came to see me to confirm that I'd miscarried overnight. I was handed a leaflet and told I could leave when I was ready. We waited, and then walked through the opening of the curtain surrounding us, past all the other curtains with our dream behind them.
A little private room would've been kind. Didn't have to take up much square footage. Just enough space to swing a leaflet at a wall.
When I told my manager, she was very supportive, though she didn't really know how to react. I had the rest of the week off to rest, and that was that. Back to life.
That's the thing. We don't know how to react to life experiences we haven't personally been affected by. I cannot stress enough how little I knew about miscarriage until I experienced it myself. I didn't even know quite a few of my friends had lost their own babies until I mentioned my loss MONTHS AFTER it happened.
I shut it out, keeping it quiet. Why?! It only hurt me more. Why couldn't I just be open? Perhaps it's because of the "just in case", we seem to naturally keep pregnancies quiet until 12-14 weeks. The "safe" second trimester. Perhaps it's because we don't wish to upset ourselves or others if something bad happens. Even so, if we wish to keep it to ourselves, that's okay, we're entitled. But we still need to speak out. Miscarriages and stillbirths shouldn't be unspeakable. We need to express ourselves. Noone needs to feel like they're alone in experiencing such loss. It's troubling when we close our minds and hearts to such emotional events. Our mental and physical health suffers.
Friends have said they didn't know what to say or were worried they would say the wrong thing, after they heard the news. This happens.
People asked me "are you going to try for a family?", "are you pregnant?" when I wasn't and really wanted to be. We would be wise to be selective with our words and expressions, however, saying something can be sweeter than saying nothing. Failing that, meaningful hugs help.
It is true, that life goes on. I used to think "I could have a (enter baby no. 1's "could've been" age here) year old". I haven't forgotten that time in my life, May 2008. It triggered anxiety attacks and lack of self-worth issues like you wouldn't believe. However, now I can comfortably and proudly say "I have a 7 year old and a 3 and a half year old". Let's face it, they wouldn't be here if I hadn't lost our baby no. 1.
My eldest often comments how she is my first baby, and whilst I agree with her, she's my first babe in arms, one day I would like to tell her about how she got here in the first place. The story about the one that got away, making sure we include the part that we're very grateful that we had the opportunity to try again and succeed in having her and her little brother. If she's ever to experience a loss like ours, I want her to know that she'll be okay, it will happen while we have these imperfect bodies and we can talk about it whenever she likes. Miscarriage is not a taboo subject in our family.
