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I was 21 years old when I gave birth to my stillborn son Jacob. While my friends were out clubbing, I was home grieving. I grew up much faster than I wanted to in a way that I would not wish on anyone. Ever. It was 16 years ago. At that time in a smallish college town, the nursing staff didn't quite know how to handle me or what exactly to say. The extent of "reaching out" was giving me a pamphlet to read "when I felt up to it" and was ready. The first words out of my nurse's mouth when I delivered were, "Oh my goodness! He is so small. Are you sure you want to really see him?" She said it with horror in her voice.
Here I am 21 years old, my first baby and knowing not one soul who had ever gone through this before. My answer was "No. That's okay. Just take him." And I never saw my son. I regret it to this day. I don't blame the nurse for her ignorance as much as I blame the staff for not preparing the nurses better for situations like that. I had to beg them to move me off of the maternity floor seeing as my room was directly across from the nursery. I guess it was a different time. I hope things have changed and no one ever has to go through that kind of treatment when they lose a baby.
When I had a miscarriage later, I never really told anyone. I knew how I would be treated then. It was more painful to share than stay quiet then.
Today, there are amazing resources to help a Mom go through such a horrible time. Support groups. Online groups. Blogs. Friends you have met through blogging. You can say what you need to and find love and support. I wish I had that 16 years ago.
This week, I am so sad that two of my favorite bloggers have suffered such losses. Miscarriages. My heart breaks for them. And as alone as I know they feel, I can also see the out pouring of love for these women.
When I read that Alice of Finslippy suffered a miscarriage I sobbed for her. I felt the words she wrote with such a sharp pain I wanted nothing more than to reach through the computer and hug her tightly. It wouldn't change a thing but sometimes just knowing you are not alone helps.
Everything that follows is a blur. I believe the first thought I had
was, "And now I shall have a margarita." It was the best thing I could
think to stop myself from losing all control, but I couldn't stop it,
of course, and soon I was weeping so loudly that I imagined the office
staff ushering all the pregnant women out of the building. Nothing to see here, ladies! No bad news around here! Who's for ice cream?
The doctor left me alone so I could call Scott, and arrange for someone
to pick up Henry, there was no way I could pick him up from school in
my current state. The call to Scott was the worst call I ever had to
make. I kept repeating what the doctor had said. I'm so sorry, I'm so
sorry. Because if I could feel bad for him, if I could concentrate on
him and all he had lost, I didn't have to think about what was inside
me at that moment.
Her words took me back to a time when my heart was shattered. (Though I actually hit the nurse who tried to comfort me. Anything to not focus on what was happening inside me.) Losing a baby is a club I don't ever want to have new members join. Ever.
Just over a week ago I rejoiced over at Sarcastic Mom as she shared the news that her family of three was becoming a family of four. I adore her. She brings humor to just about everything. Then just nine days later she shared that she had a miscarriage. She has written some hearbreaking yet beautiful entries about this loss. You really should read her words. They take you on her sad journey. For those of you who have no idea what it is like, she helps you to understand.
