This will tell a story of the grieving of losing a beautiful baby. This story takes place many years ago.
December 2nd is a day I always seem to dread coming up on. Even around that time I start to feel slower. Have you ever went sledding down an icy hill and right at the last second of going down the hill you stick your foot out and try to stop? Well, that is a bit what it feels like when the day approaches. I know the day is coming, yet I still can barely speak of it. The wound has closed, but the scar is still there. But there should be some sort of progression. When this day comes, I feel withdrawn and still. I sit on the cool kitchen floor and silently listen to the playlist I made years ago labeled “For Baby”. This helps me have a quick cry and move on with my day.
The Day but Dark like night
There were no warning signs. I woke up in the morning feeling pretty good, but within a few hours I had the malicious cramping. I remember saying to my husband, “Somethings not right.” And I started crying, not even knowing what was happening, but my body and emotions responded willingly. My husband of course comforted me and said, “let’s not worry yet.”
The Drive off the Cliff
We dropped my oldest off at her grandparents and with hopeful hearts we were on our way to the clinic. The drive felt like an eternity and more, but I was not greeted by comfort when we pulled into the parking lot. I was welcomed with uneasiness and sadness. Because even if my mind was still grasping for hope, my heart already knew what was missing. I remember looking at people at the clinic, the nurses, patients, the billing lady, and I felt like everyone looked melancholic and unhappy. It was like my world was gray or there was a dark filter over my eyes and my feelings matched.
The Clinical Repertoire
We waited in line to be seen; I was lucky that my doctor could squeeze me in, so I didn’t have to see a random doctor. I sat in the chair while my husband checked us in, feeling the cramps. I had a smidge of hope, try to fool my heart into thinking everything was fine. One of the things I remember is holding my husband’s hand from home, in the car, at the clinic and in the brief moment of sitting alone, I actually felt extremely alone. And when he came to sit down next to me and grabbed my cold, clammy hand, I felt a bit of peace. The nurse called my name and when she called my name it felt like fate was lurking around the corner ready to pounce and I was being dragged closer and closer to her. My doctor tried to fake a cheerful disposition and I love her for that. She said, “Let’s get you to ultrasound and see what’s going on.”
The Ultrasound Trap-door
Ultrasound is supposed to be the most amazing experience when you are expecting a baby. But when that baby is in jeopardy and something is not quite right, this can be very taxing on the mind, body and soul. Because of this very ultrasound, I was anxious with every single ultrasound that I had after when I had my other children. But moving on, I remember the room being very cold and feeling very cold. I remember the little half smiles that my husband and I would trade back and forth. As the Ultrasound started, I stared at that screen and stared intensely at the Ultrasound tech trying to decipher her facial expressions. She then announced that she is going to go get the doctor and she will be right back. Now I know that something is wrong and there is no way out of this situation except moving forward. My doctor comes in and I know that I am gripping my husband’s hand. She says, “I am so sorry, but there is no heartbeat.” I can see my little baby up on the screen and I know the baby is no longer here, but it is hard to grasp the concept that my baby is gone. Then with a hot rush of air, I feel like I want to scream, but the only thing I can do is cry. I cry for my baby, my husband, my oldest daughter who was so happy to be a big sister, I cry for the doctor and the ultrasound tech. Last but not least, I cry for myself.
The Long Journey Home
We didn’t live that far away from the hospital, but the journey felt so long. I found comfort in music and the song I found comfort in at the time was “Little Talks” by Of Monsters and Men, the acoustic version. This song helped me process the feelings that I was having. We listened to that the whole way home and I cried. My husband’s hand still in mine. I cannot tell you his feelings, because I am not him. I know that he felt the trap door open when I did too. We were now at home, and I had to do the hard thing and go through losing my baby.
The Night I lost a Piece of Me
There is something that breaks apart when you lose your baby. Your soul shatters, along with your heart and mind. The pain was different than I have ever experienced. It felt as if my body unwilling to let my baby go and the pain that occurred was all the fight that I had. When the pain stopped that’s when my baby was truly no longer a part of my body. I lost my baby during the night and my heart will never be fully whole again. Forever I will regret not waking my husband, but I am stuck with the choices I made.
Lost and Not Found
I felt off and horrible. Everything made me cry; I should have had a big sticker on my head that said “Fragile.” Because I was truly fragile. I worked in a secure facility at the time, so I called in for a week. My heart became quiet. It wasn’t cold, it was just quiet. No longer making much of a sound and the people that knew what had happened were very gentle around me, but some didn’t know what to say or said the wrong thing. My husband would come home from work and hold me so I could cry. During my grieving, I went to a company Christmas party, and we played the Christmas present game where you could steal gifts. Someone stole this snowman wax melter from me and in my fragile state I began to silently cry, but my most wonderful caring loving warm husband stole it back for me. This seems like such a small moment, but it was so big to me. I love my snowman wax melter. He reminds me that sometimes we have to rely on some small artificial light to break through darkness and it’s okay to not be able to make your own.
Mis-What?
I have always hated the word that is implied throughout this article. Any woman who has experienced baby loss knows what word I am referring to. I will not say it. I do not like that word because it implies that I carried my child wrong. The prefix “Mis” is defined as badly, wrongly, or unsuitably. Carry is what it means to hold something. So, to say to millions of women that they have carried wrongly, badly, or unsuitably, is distasteful to say the least. Because that is not what happened me. For an unknown reason, my baby passed away in my body. I carried my baby with love and grace. I did everything right. To you, who is reading this, I am here to remind you that you did nothing wrong, and you need to stop analyzing your few weeks or months of being pregnant. Do not blame yourself for what happened. These things happen and it’s not right that they do, but we need to keep moving forward. Do not harden your heart, love.
The right things to say and the wrong things to say.
During this time, I was bombarded with kind compassionate words from many people. However, sometimes people do not know what to say and it’s extremely important that we keep it simple. The K.I.S.S. method is the best way to explain it. Keep It Simple Stupid. Here is a list of great things to say:
- I am so sorry that this happened to you.
DONE.
Say nothing else. If you don’t know what to say just say “I’m sorry.” Do not get fancy with words, because something that seems harmless can come off as harmful. Especially to a grieving mother and father. One of the most important things you can do is acknowledge the loss of the baby. This baby is a part of this mother. And that baby is their little child that is no longer here. Be gentle with mom and dad. And for all things that are holy, do not refer to their baby as an “It”. So, to help those who just don’t know what to say here is a quick list of what NOT to say or here is a list of things that were said to me that were not helpful:
- Least you weren’t THAT far along.
- Maybe there was something wrong with the baby.
- It will get better.
- Try not to think about it.
- It’s in a better place.
Let’s remember to be compassionate during this time.
Never Ends, but there are ways to Cope.
This pain never truly ends. We are stuck in this cycle of grief for the rest of our lives. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of the sweet little soul that left us. I never want to forget what happened and that is also a great comfort to me. I have a small figurine and a quote that sits next to it in my hutch. During the month of December, I bring my items from the hutch and light a candle during the day to remember and honor my baby. It is this small act that brings me comfort. Here are some healthy ways that I also tried to find comfort:
- Find music to help cope.
- Allow your self to cry for only so much time.
- Paint a picture of how you’re feeling. I painted two.
- Talk about your experience with others. This truly does help.
- Find a support group.
- Reach out to family and friends. Do not seclude yourself.
- Purchase a small statue or plant a tree or flower.
- Keep a journal.
What can you do if you know someone experiencing Pregnancy loss?
As a close family or friend there are ways to help the mother and father who is experiencing pregnancy loss. We can help them in such simple ways, and it won’t even feel like you are doing anything extra. For instance:
- Make a meal.
- Bring them groceries.
- Have coffee.
- Bring a gift.
- Acknowlege their loss.
- Listen to them talk.
- Encourage them to talk about their baby.
- Help clean.
- If there are other children present, watch them so mom can nap or shower.
- Encourage other resources.
Try to Remember
The main thing that I hope people learn from this article is that losing a baby is not a small feat. We need to remember the little baby that was here for a short while. Everyone grieves in their own way and please allow yourself the time and space to grieve. We will never “get over it.” Do not forget about the child, because mom will not forget. Send a little text or card on her day of remembrance. She shouldn’t have to cry silently or cry alone.
Contact Health Professional if:
All of this is based on a personal experience and is meant for awareness. If you are ever feeling alone or have thoughts of hurting yourself, please reach out to someone and know that getting help is normal. Please get the help you need and talk to a health professional. It’s okay to not be okay.
