I recently had a conversation with a close friend of mine who was shattered by watching a family member go through a very late stage of miscarriage. Needless to say, it brought up a lot of buried feelings…
It is never easy to have a conversation about this, no matter whether you are the one doing the telling or the one landing the shoulder and tissue box. It is painful, uncomfortable, and lonely. So today, I would like to take some time to share a few thoughts on this matter, as someone who has been on both ends of this conversation.
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Before I begin, I must issue a warning that there are a few uncomfortable details ahead, which might not be for those sensitive on this matter.
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The elevator pitch: I went through an early miscarriage just before my firstborn was about to turn one. It was one of the darkest moments in my life.
The dossier: It was Thanksgiving. I was with my family when I started to experience abdominal discomfort, which escalated into light bleeding. I vaguely remember telling my mother in a cool, pragmatic tone as I was leaving: “Well, something is definitely happening and I don’t think the baby will make it.”
Looking back now, I am certain that at that point my brain had already calculated the very low probability of this being “nothing to worry about” and my prefrontal cortex had assumed a dominant role in an effort to minimize the emotional collapse.
I drove home buried in my thoughts, put my baby to sleep, and rushed to the bathroom, as the discomfort had now grown into a distant but unmistakable pain…I was in labour and I was only 7 weeks along.
I sat on the toilet and tried to calm my rushing mind. I attempted to steady my breathing and meditate when I felt two large lumps fall out. My heart sunk as I knew exactly what they were: my baby followed by the placenta. I stood there shaking, my face in my hands and remember hearing my mind buzzing, desperately looking for another logical explanation. One that would result in my baby being ok. And then I heard myself utter: “Rest in peace my little one, I am sorry we never had a chance. I hope you know that you will always be mine and I will love you forever.”
It wasn’t until I reached for the toilet button and heard the flushing sound when I collapsed. I crumbled in the bathtub feeling the hot water wash away my tears and muffle my sobs and I remember praying that the water doesn’t wash away my memories.
I was only 7 weeks along. 7 weeks! And I believe the memory of that night will stay with me forever. I probably should mention that just four days before I had made up my mind to keep the baby. You see, my partner and I did not see eye to eye when it came to the size of our family nor were we prepared to have another child soon after our first one. It was a tough time for both of us and we had certainly not found our rhythm yet after the cathartic event (the birth of our daughter) altered our lives less than a year ago. After a couple of weeks of back and forth, I finally decided to have the baby. I guess the universe had a different plan.
Now every time late June approaches (that was the estimated due date) I cannot help but remember that night and wonder what could have been. What would they have looked like? What kind of a person would they have become? What lessons would they had been able to teach me? I try not to dwell on this too much but I know with certainty, that a little piece of me was flushed away that day as well.
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I decided not to stay silent about this and tell my story partly because I cannot let myself forget but also because I know that millions of you will go through this and it is important to know that you are not alone and that you can overcome this. You are not a misfit, about 10-20% (possibly even higher) of pregnancies end in miscarriages.
Grief will consume you for a short while, or it might make you completely numb to your surroundings (it is what happened to me). And at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter really, how you chose to say goodbye, just trust that you will be ok!
For a while, you will see people walking on eggshells around you, which could make you feel even worse, just know that things will once again resume their normal pace.
Take time to heal,
To internalize,
To cry,
To write,
To scream,
And know that this too is ok!
I know plenty of people who went through this, each story more traumatizing than the other and know that it is important to have people around you to land you emotional support. I am lucky to have incredible humans close to me and a mother who herself had been through this. I have come to believe in and rely on the strength of support groups be it family, friends or even strangers.
A client of mine had gone through three miscarriages, one of them with twins and it broke her a little every time.
An acquaintance of mine was almost 7 months along when they told her that she had complications and the baby had died. She had to go through stillbirth and bury her daughter.
A family member of a friend of mine had to go through the same when she was 8 months along. They decided to hold a vigil. The sight of the small casket lowered into the ground will haunt my friend and her family forever. Another person I know went through the same as I did with the difference that she was 5 months along, she held the baby in her hands and saw a fully formed human with ten fingers and toes, a button nose and eyelashes. They named him and went with a proper burial.
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We all grieve in different ways but just know that in this dark moment you have millions of women standing behind you supporting your weight when your knees are shaking;
we are there to join in when you need to scream,
an anguished ensemble,
a whaling choir,
voices rising,
messengers of grief.
And know that this too shall pass, this too will be a distant memory and you have every right to choose whether you want to hold on to it or let it be carried away by the wind. You will overcome this, you will be whole again, you will steady your hand, you will steady your mind because you are strong, resilient, vigorous even though it might not feel like it at this time. Just know….
Know that you are not alone, you never were, and many more will join this formation of incredible, strong women…
this sisterhood of ours.
The Tardigrade Mom 