A blog about babies: the babies I lost, the babies I never had, the baby who made me a Mama.

Monday, February 8, 2010

Conversations; or, Confessions

I've been talking a lot about the m&m recently. Immediately after the miscarriage, I felt like this wall of silence was put between me and the people around me--I was grieving harder than I'd ever grieved in my life but I felt like I couldn't tell the people I interacted with on a daily basis--not my students, not my classmates, not my teachers, not my Junior League committee members.

That was probably smart. I found it hard to even think about the baby without sobbing--talking about him or her was probably beyond my ability at that point.

Now, however, I've been telling people about the miscarriage frequently (though I hope not indiscriminately and not in detail--merely the fact that it happened). And with each person I tell, it's like a little weight is lifted off my chest. I hate the burden of secrecy. I hated not only feeling loss and sadness but having to hide the source of those feelings.

I know why others choose to keep their emotions private and conceal their pain. But I've learned how healing it is for me to share my experience, and so I refuse to feel guilty for talking about this. I'm also lucky that none of the colleagues and friends I've told have given me the crappy, standard post-miscarriage responses. They've all responded with compassion and understanding.

I've learned that my former Junior League chair had a miscarriage two years before her toddler daughter was born. I've had a fellow grad student, the mommy to two little girls, tell me that the mommy part of my life has started now, even though I don't have a baby yet. I've had lots of hugs. And even when all I hear is, "I'm so sorry," it feels nice to be open and honest, nice to acknowledge that there was a baby, a baby who is gone now, a baby who left a sadness behind that will always endure.

So for my gals out there starting that long walk back to recovery after a miscarriage, I don't suggest you do things my way. But sometimes it's good to give people the opportunity to surprise you with their kindness and sympathy.

9 comments:

  1. I am glad to hear that sharing is helping you. Sometimes it's met with indifference or a dismissive remark, but when you get the true, "hey I know what it's like" sympathy and empathy from someone (esp. when it was previously unknown or unexpected), it has such a profound impact. It can be healing, or at least make you feel not quite so alone.

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  2. It's so amazing to me how we all deal with infertility in different ways, and how are coping methods change as time passes. When I started blogging I hadn't even told my mom about our struggle. I finally opened up to her, but it's been a real struggle for me to talk to anyone else about it. I hope to get there soon as I'm sure the weight lifted that you describe is comforting.

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  3. I am so glad you have gotten some hugs and support. Isn't it amazing how something like that can make you feel better. My friend Susan and I recently opened up to each other abt our struggles (her recent m/c and my IF)...I honestly couldn't believe how cathartic it was to have someone who knows me and my husband so well tell me she was so sorry I was going through this. It doesn't make it "easier" but it makes it less awful. If that makes any sense at all. I am not ready to tell everyone I'm friends with, obviously, but in some instances, it's exactly what you need. ((hugs))

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  4. I am really open about my experiences too, although I think it is a little different when you already have a child. People are nice about it generally though. I fell better acknowledging it and every so often someone shares their story and it makes me feel less isolated.

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  5. I share it when appropriate as well. I have never been as lonely as I was when going through my miscarriage, and I hope by talking about it I'm doing my part to remove some of the taboo.

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  6. As time went on, I became more and more open. At first, I was. . . ashamed is the wrong word, but embarassed maybe? I also didn't want to offend or hurt people by telling them about our losses. I kept quiet and endured a lot of comments that hurt me without speaking up. As we had more losses, I found it harder to keep my mouth shut. Like you, I found healing in sharing our story, and also fellow IF/loss sisters. I still got the occasional craptastic remark that hurt, but I was more outspoken about those, too, correcting people when I would have bit my tongue before. I saw myself defending not only for myself but others that suffered in silence. I had people thank me for my openess and honesty as it helped them see infertility and loss in a whole new light.

    I hope you continue to find comfort in sharing your story and soon get to express your joy as well.

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  7. I'm glad that sharing your heartache has helped you heal, I'm just starting to get to a place to where I'm may be ready to share the miscarriage with more people than knew about the pregnancy --- friends, neighbors, etc.

    Thanks for sharing your experience.

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  8. I am so happy that sharing this very personal part of your life is getting you some much needed support. It's amazing-- you never know what other people are going through until you are brave enough to tell them what you are going through. Proud of you, hon.

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  9. I totally feel the same way. I haven't told everyone about my miscarriage, but of the people I have shared with I did feel that sense of relief. Relief that they knew what I had been going through, that I didn't have to pretend not to be hurting any longer, and they did offer amazing support that I so needed.

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