Three 3 years ago this week, yesterday, marked the saddest day of my life. As much as I would not like to remember the exact date that we learned the devastating news that we lost our son at 21 weeks in utero, it is burned into the fabric of my being. My body and soul can not forget. This time of year is tough, with the holidays approaching- everything reminds me of our loss and the fact that our son Baby S is not here.
I am so grateful to have his brother Baby C here and all it takes is me looking at him to be so grateful. But my heart is so heavy today. Immensely heavy- it hit me like a ton of bricks today and I found myself weeping.
The grief of a mother or parent leaves such a void. No matter how much joy I have received there is still a sad spot in my heart.
Even though I think of Baby S every day, I rarely allow myself to feel sorry for myself. But today, I am sorry for his loss, sorry for us, sorry for his brother. I know I will pull out of this shortly but the grief weighs heavy right now. My heart is sad for all of the babies who are lost and all of their families.
Showing posts with label baby loss. Show all posts
Showing posts with label baby loss. Show all posts
Friday, December 16, 2011
Friday, April 16, 2010
The things people say
We've all heard comments about baby loss and infertility that sometimes sting us, right?
One of the many things that has been strange for me with this pregnancy is that EVERYONE (besides my wonderful obgyn) talks to me as though this is my first pregnancy. It's as though becoming pregnant with baby number two simply erased the existence of my first son, Baby S.
Throughout the second trimester, which I just completed, people who know of my loss would often give me a "heads-up" as to what to expect week by week. Apparently they erased from their minds that I carried Baby S 2/3rds of the way through the second trimester- so I knew the symptoms, the appointments to expect, etc.
The comments from people are sometimes strange to me. It is awkward navigating how to respond...
Them: You've made it past the first trimester, no worries now! My thought: Really? I lost my son at 21 weeks- and know people who have lost babies as far as full term.
Them: Are you enjoying pregnancy? Me: It took me getting past the 5 1/2 month mark, but now I am enjoying it as much as possible. Them: Oh, I know the morning sickness- it's the worst.
Them: This pregnancy thing is SO HARD (first-timer, instantly pregnant, no problems). My thought: Um, yeah. ??
Them: I am so glad my child will finally have a cousin! My thought: They ALREADY DO have a cousin: MY CHILD- YOUR NEPHEW- WHO DIED!!
Even though I'm sure some people haven't forgotten our loss, I'm pretty sure the outside world sees a rainbow baby as erasing the baby who was lost. In addition, although most people do not know the lengths that we went through to get pregnant both times, they do know that it was difficult for us both times. Yet still friends around me constantly talk about getting pregnant as though it's something that is accomplished on-demand, exactly when and how one wishes. "We are going to conceive this summer." "We plan to have 3 kids, each 2 years apart." etc. Most of my friends have been very lucky in the fertility/pregnancy department, but clearly do not think that infertility is something that could possibly affect them.
The strange- at times painful- comments have been plenty over the past fifteen months. But I do want to end this post on a positive note and hang on to the comments from a few friends who somehow knew exactly what to say. I will never forget their words which comforted me.
After our loss, my dear friend Stacey said: "I want you to know that I loved your baby too." She is the only person who expressed love/care for our child.
My friend Amy called me explaining that her heart was breaking for me and she began crying on the phone. She is the only person (besides dh) who cried along with me.
When I shared the news of my current pregnancy with my friend Jessica she expressed her happiness for us, and also said "I'm sure it must be bittersweet." She is the only person who has acknowledged that we must miss Baby S.
One of the many things that has been strange for me with this pregnancy is that EVERYONE (besides my wonderful obgyn) talks to me as though this is my first pregnancy. It's as though becoming pregnant with baby number two simply erased the existence of my first son, Baby S.
Throughout the second trimester, which I just completed, people who know of my loss would often give me a "heads-up" as to what to expect week by week. Apparently they erased from their minds that I carried Baby S 2/3rds of the way through the second trimester- so I knew the symptoms, the appointments to expect, etc.
The comments from people are sometimes strange to me. It is awkward navigating how to respond...
Them: You've made it past the first trimester, no worries now! My thought: Really? I lost my son at 21 weeks- and know people who have lost babies as far as full term.
Them: Are you enjoying pregnancy? Me: It took me getting past the 5 1/2 month mark, but now I am enjoying it as much as possible. Them: Oh, I know the morning sickness- it's the worst.
Them: This pregnancy thing is SO HARD (first-timer, instantly pregnant, no problems). My thought: Um, yeah. ??
Them: I am so glad my child will finally have a cousin! My thought: They ALREADY DO have a cousin: MY CHILD- YOUR NEPHEW- WHO DIED!!
Even though I'm sure some people haven't forgotten our loss, I'm pretty sure the outside world sees a rainbow baby as erasing the baby who was lost. In addition, although most people do not know the lengths that we went through to get pregnant both times, they do know that it was difficult for us both times. Yet still friends around me constantly talk about getting pregnant as though it's something that is accomplished on-demand, exactly when and how one wishes. "We are going to conceive this summer." "We plan to have 3 kids, each 2 years apart." etc. Most of my friends have been very lucky in the fertility/pregnancy department, but clearly do not think that infertility is something that could possibly affect them.
The strange- at times painful- comments have been plenty over the past fifteen months. But I do want to end this post on a positive note and hang on to the comments from a few friends who somehow knew exactly what to say. I will never forget their words which comforted me.
After our loss, my dear friend Stacey said: "I want you to know that I loved your baby too." She is the only person who expressed love/care for our child.
My friend Amy called me explaining that her heart was breaking for me and she began crying on the phone. She is the only person (besides dh) who cried along with me.
When I shared the news of my current pregnancy with my friend Jessica she expressed her happiness for us, and also said "I'm sure it must be bittersweet." She is the only person who has acknowledged that we must miss Baby S.
Tuesday, March 23, 2010
the lonely grief
Perhaps one of the toughest things about grieving an unborn child is that it is a lonely grief. Typically when someone in your life passes away, whether its a grandparent, parent, friend etc., there are others around you who share your grief. Difficult as any loss is, it is common to share memories and stories of loved ones- as well as share the burden of the loss. Outside of the babyloss community, it is so difficult to navigate how to grieve around others- if at all.
For me, it's been a private, lonely grief from the get-go. When we learned the news that at 21 weeks our baby's heart stopped beating, there were a few people who I called during those first few hours while in shock and tears- my parents, my sister, my best friend. When I came home from the hospital to recover, I became incredibly sick for days as my immune system was wiped out. I wanted to inform our friends and family and decided to do so in a brief email. At that point we were so heartbroken and I was very depressed. Messages of condolences poured in and we received a few cards and flowers. Eventually in the following weeks I spoke with my closest friends and family who called. But soon after our loss, our grief became quiet.
People around us did not bring up our baby, probably out of fear of making us uncomfortable. At times I brought it up, but felt awkward, and quickly stopped sharing. DH and I decided to do a private memorial for our son with just the two of us. We live out of state from our families and most of our friends, and its what felt right. At the time that we lost Baby S, we hadn't settled on a name- but had been calling him by a nickname, which we decided to make his name. That is who he was and is to us.
Of course my husb carries grief of our loss too, although he manages it much differently. We talk about our lost baby, but it's always me who brings it up. So over time, I find I bring him up to dh less and less. I began going to counseling immediately after our loss. My doctor recommended it right away, as he would with any patient, and he didn't need to convince me. I needed someone to talk to... someone who could hopefully help me ease my pain in a safe place where I could fully open up and cry.
It has been nice to have a therapist who is there to listen. Although, I noticed after the first few months, when the time came that we would start trying to conceive again, she seemed to shift the conversation away from baby loss. The focus became trying to get pregnant and is now about dealing with this pregnancy. My grief still comes up (when I bring it up), and my therapist will recognize yet only momentarily.
It's hard to share your grief, your love, your yearning for a baby that the world didn't get to meet. I know our family and friends were sad for us and for our baby, but their lives quickly moved on. Despite our best efforts to explain our experience, they will never know what it is like and they will never miss our baby like we do. And it's not their fault, but it doesn't make it any easier to deal with. I sometimes wonder if anyone thinks of our lost child as an actual person who died. Do my siblings miss their unborn nephew? Do our parents think about their grandchild who they never got to meet? I'm not sure. Certainly they have thought of us. But no one knew our child. We did. Intimately. Despite the fact that we can't share memories of his birthdays, family trips etc. So we honor him on our own. Every day. In our hearts.
For me, it's been a private, lonely grief from the get-go. When we learned the news that at 21 weeks our baby's heart stopped beating, there were a few people who I called during those first few hours while in shock and tears- my parents, my sister, my best friend. When I came home from the hospital to recover, I became incredibly sick for days as my immune system was wiped out. I wanted to inform our friends and family and decided to do so in a brief email. At that point we were so heartbroken and I was very depressed. Messages of condolences poured in and we received a few cards and flowers. Eventually in the following weeks I spoke with my closest friends and family who called. But soon after our loss, our grief became quiet.
People around us did not bring up our baby, probably out of fear of making us uncomfortable. At times I brought it up, but felt awkward, and quickly stopped sharing. DH and I decided to do a private memorial for our son with just the two of us. We live out of state from our families and most of our friends, and its what felt right. At the time that we lost Baby S, we hadn't settled on a name- but had been calling him by a nickname, which we decided to make his name. That is who he was and is to us.
Of course my husb carries grief of our loss too, although he manages it much differently. We talk about our lost baby, but it's always me who brings it up. So over time, I find I bring him up to dh less and less. I began going to counseling immediately after our loss. My doctor recommended it right away, as he would with any patient, and he didn't need to convince me. I needed someone to talk to... someone who could hopefully help me ease my pain in a safe place where I could fully open up and cry.
It has been nice to have a therapist who is there to listen. Although, I noticed after the first few months, when the time came that we would start trying to conceive again, she seemed to shift the conversation away from baby loss. The focus became trying to get pregnant and is now about dealing with this pregnancy. My grief still comes up (when I bring it up), and my therapist will recognize yet only momentarily.
It's hard to share your grief, your love, your yearning for a baby that the world didn't get to meet. I know our family and friends were sad for us and for our baby, but their lives quickly moved on. Despite our best efforts to explain our experience, they will never know what it is like and they will never miss our baby like we do. And it's not their fault, but it doesn't make it any easier to deal with. I sometimes wonder if anyone thinks of our lost child as an actual person who died. Do my siblings miss their unborn nephew? Do our parents think about their grandchild who they never got to meet? I'm not sure. Certainly they have thought of us. But no one knew our child. We did. Intimately. Despite the fact that we can't share memories of his birthdays, family trips etc. So we honor him on our own. Every day. In our hearts.
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