A Lost Hope
At the beginning of 2009, my husband and I were full of hope - we were going to start a family. We were so excited – we both come from big families and couldn’t wait to build our own. I got pregnant fairly quickly and we were all smiles keeping our little secret to ourselves.
A few weeks later, those smiles started fading as we realised I was probably going to lose the baby. After bleeding, trips to Casualty, inconclusive scans and 2 agonising weeks of waiting, we were finally told our baby had died. What we went through is called a ‘silent’ or ‘missed’ miscarriage – the baby dies but the body shows no outward signs of it and goes on ‘thinking’ it is pregnant. I don’t remember anything the doctor said after that – I only remember being sent home clutching a leaflet that outlined my options. Tears were streaming down my face and questions were filling my head – was it my fault? Will I ever be able to have a baby? Why us, God? We are young and healthy and naively thought this wouldn’t happen to us. The truth is it can affect anyone.
We were back in hospital a week later where I was monitored all day and put through invasive procedures to bring on the miscarriage. I was treated with very little sympathy and we returned home that night numb and hurting. It’s hard to imagine how you can grieve for somebody you never knew, but I have come to understand that it is the lost hope and the lost dreams for that child’s future that I grieve. The feeling of desolation is impossible to describe and while I cried constantly and wanted to talk about it, my husband withdrew and seemed to move on quickly. Of course I know that individuals grieve very differently, but in the midst of that hurt it is so hard to understand why.
We told several friends and family members what had happened. Some were very sympathetic and offered amazing support, and others brushed it aside saying things like “it’s just nature’s way, you can try again,” or “it’s so common.” It is, but that doesn’t make it any less painful for each individual woman who has her dreams stolen from her. My experience is that people simply don’t know what to say and find it strange that I am still affected by it, months later. Friends I have met online, in one place I have been able to talk very openly about it, talk of feeling ‘tainted’ – like other women don’t want to speak to them for fear it may be ‘catching.’ Maybe we are just imagining the isolation, but there is dreadful loneliness that comes with the loss of a pregnancy.
If you have been through this yourself, know that you are not alone. The ups and downs that come after it are completely normal. You can think you have moved on and then be floored by the loss all over again. Recently, I thought I was feeling a lot stronger until a friend announced her pregnancy with a scan photo on Facebook and I burst into tears. It’s so hard not to feel resentful but if this ordeal has taught me anything it’s to be sensitive to other women when it comes to issues of fertility and child-bearing. We just never know what somebody’s story might be. I’ve also learnt to cling on to what I do have and be so thankful for it, because I just don’t know how fleeting it could be.
If you know somebody who has been through miscarriage, chances are that you might not have thought much of it – like I did before it happened to me. But your friend is probably feeling very fragile. Here is some advice on how to be there for her.
- Be gentle. Don’t force her to come out or to talk.
- Be ready to listen when she is ready to talk. Let her know that she can talk about it whenever she wants and that you don’t expect her to be ‘over it’.
- Just be there. My best friend spent 3 days with me when my husband had to go back to work. She just lay in bed with me, talked and watched films with me. Being alone was horrible so I will always be grateful to her for that.
- Ask her about significant dates, like the one her baby should have been born on and put it in your diary so you can let her know you’re thinking of her on that day.
- Don’t be surprised if she still wants to talk about it, or cry about it 6 months or more down the line. Even if she conceives again, that loss will always be with her.
- Finally, bring chocolate! It is an amazing comfort and actually raises endorphin levels helping your friend feel better.
For more support and information on miscarriage visit www.miscarriageassociation.org.uk
Posted on 24th November.
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Furl itPosted 24.11.09
