Tuesday, October 17, 2006
Coping
When you lose a baby, suddenly people are nice to you. They don't know what to say, granted, but they try to make for their lack of comforting words by comforting actions. I got a box full of hand-picked chocolates of all my favorite flavors, I got a week off of work to deal with the loss on an emotional level, I got a free home-brewed psychotherapy session, I got more phone calls than I would get in a whole month, and reassurances about the health of my "next baby" that'd almost made me feel as if I was pregnant again already and about to pop the next Mr. Universe, I was not allowed to carry heavy stuff (or just about anything at all), and I was given the seat wherever there was a seat available. Not to mention the hugs. Oh, the hugs. And phone-condolences.
And the awkward attempts at making me feel better. Those were the best. My best friend? Tried to make me a bit less sad by telling me with all the best intentions that I didn't really lose a baby, but rather just a bunch of cells. "Don't even tell yourself that you lost a BABY. It was just a heap of cells, m'kay?" Yeah, m'kay. Thanks. I appreciate it.
Nevermind. Why is it, that an embryo in the sixth week of pregnancy apparently is not a valid enough reason to feel all this sadness and grief? Why does it feel like it is somehow inappropriate to mourn for my lost baby, just because I really wasn't far along at all? How far along is far enough to justify feeling the way I do? Why do I almost have to feel guilty, because apparently my depression and devastation over this loss somehow negatively influence me and my potential future pregnancy?
Did I need to have seen my baby on an ultrasound to make it real? Did I need to have heard its heartbeat to be able to call it a LIFE? Did I need to have felt it kick me in order to fall in love with it? Or did I need to have a stillbirth in order to justify all these tears I have cried?
We have lost our child. It has left us far before we could really get used to its reality, and way before we could even find out if it was a son or a daughter - but it was our child nonetheless. A child that we both wanted very much. Let me mourn it, and let me mourn it for as long as it takes. I'll be alright, but I'll be alright on my own terms. Don't tell me how I am supposed to be feeling, or how I am not supposed to be feeling. Just let me cope with this, before I can look positively into the future.
And the awkward attempts at making me feel better. Those were the best. My best friend? Tried to make me a bit less sad by telling me with all the best intentions that I didn't really lose a baby, but rather just a bunch of cells. "Don't even tell yourself that you lost a BABY. It was just a heap of cells, m'kay?" Yeah, m'kay. Thanks. I appreciate it.
Nevermind. Why is it, that an embryo in the sixth week of pregnancy apparently is not a valid enough reason to feel all this sadness and grief? Why does it feel like it is somehow inappropriate to mourn for my lost baby, just because I really wasn't far along at all? How far along is far enough to justify feeling the way I do? Why do I almost have to feel guilty, because apparently my depression and devastation over this loss somehow negatively influence me and my potential future pregnancy?
Did I need to have seen my baby on an ultrasound to make it real? Did I need to have heard its heartbeat to be able to call it a LIFE? Did I need to have felt it kick me in order to fall in love with it? Or did I need to have a stillbirth in order to justify all these tears I have cried?
We have lost our child. It has left us far before we could really get used to its reality, and way before we could even find out if it was a son or a daughter - but it was our child nonetheless. A child that we both wanted very much. Let me mourn it, and let me mourn it for as long as it takes. I'll be alright, but I'll be alright on my own terms. Don't tell me how I am supposed to be feeling, or how I am not supposed to be feeling. Just let me cope with this, before I can look positively into the future.
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Grr. Just... I know your friend meant well, but it DOESN'T make you feel better to be made to think that you're feeling loss over a "bunch of cells". I would have told her that the embryo, at that point, is significantly more than just a bunch of cells.
Oh hon, I feel awful for you. I've heard there is nothing that will lesson the pain any more than simple time and the love of your family and friends which it sounds as though you have in spades. I'd give you a great big hug if i could.
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