Archive for Miscarriage
April 24, 2007 at 11:10 am · Filed under Deanna's Story, Miscarriage, Ob/Gyn, Pregnancy, Related Movies-Songs, Twins
Sometimes amazing things happen to remind us that we really don’t understand the machinations of our world. I often think of the line to Josh Groban’s song “To Where You Are” that says:
Isn’t faith believing all powers can’t be seen?
Yesterday my almost-five-year-old (countdown to the big day–seven sleeps!) and I attended a baby shower for her preschool teacher.
One of the games involved each of the kids suggesting what Ms. Lindsay should name her baby boy.
The children mainly chose names of male classmates or dads or brothers. A few provided gigglers–Star, Sunshine, Happy Feet. One future class clown offered up “Poo.”
Elizabeth’s turn arrived. She seemed confused about this, and the teacher asked her if she needed more time. She shook her head, stood up, and said, “Matthew.”
My heart seized. She knew no Matthews. No cousins or classmates or friends. The only time she could have heard the name in her brief existence would be in Sunday School, where it would compete with the likes of Mark, Luke, and John.
But Matthew is a very important name to us. When we were told Emily was a boy at her sonogram, we chose Ryan Matthew as her name. Naturally she became Emily later when the high risk doctor told us–that’s an odd name for a girl!
When we got pregnant with Elizabeth, we decided we still liked Ryan Matthew but would prefer it flipped. So we called the baby Matthew early on when we referred to her in the womb, until her sonogram revealed she was also a girl.
But of course, Elizabeth was a twin. Her little sibling died and my water broke when I was only ten weeks pregnant. Elizabeth survived, although we had a week or two of uncertainty that the pregnancy would pull through.
We’ve named her twin Emma Hope, but after this baby shower, maybe we were wrong. Perhaps Elizabeth knows more than we do, and maybe, just maybe, some little presence whispered in her ear that morning, and for the first time, without even knowing it, she uttered a name she’d never before heard–her brother’s.
March 26, 2007 at 1:00 pm · Filed under Family, Grief, Miscarriage
How many of you have heard these phrases?
- It probably would have been deformed.
- Thank goodness you were only in your first trimester.
- It’s not like it was a real baby.
- Just get pregnant again and you’ll feel better.
- It was just a miscarriage.
When friends, family, acquaintances, and coworkers learn of your loss, they are going to feel the need to say something. They feel awkward and unsure. They definitely don’t want to make you cry.
So they try to come up with something to make you feel better. Somehow, they really do believe that downplaying the loss (only first trimester, not a real baby, just a miscarriage) will help you downplay it too. Or, that they can show you a “bright” side (deformed, nature’s way, not the right time.) Or give you advice (get pregnant again, don’t dwell on it, you’re only making yourself depressed.)
I’m not happy with these people. I wish I could be your personal guardian, walking around with duct tape and sealing their mouths. But usually they aren’t really trying to upset you. They want to say something. They don’t know that “I’m so sorry for the loss of your baby. Please let me know if I can do anything,” is plenty.
Ignore them when you can. Just nod and walk away. And when you’re feeling up for it–tell them. And explain to them what to say next time, before they repeat these things to someone else.
March 15, 2007 at 4:16 pm · Filed under Miscarriage, Pregnancy
This is a touchy subject, but one I can address more easily in general rather than with someone specific in an email or post. Hopefully some of you out there googling miscarriage and emotional recovery will hit upon this.
Those wonderful female hormones that govern our cycle and turn us into emotional swingers right before a period, in early pregnancy, and in post partum have an extra special role right after a miscarriage–they often get completely out of whack and make our lives hell.
Often when someone writes me in the first two weeks after a loss, upset and angry, wanting to leave her husband, afraid she’s not doing well with the children, and sure that every one of her friends is trying to make her feel worse, I know her body has made life less easy to cope with.
We already are saddled with a lot after a loss: grief, frustration, fear, despair. It’s a terrible kick in the gut that in addition, our confused reproductive system often sends out so many mixed hormone signals that we can’t manage our emotions. In this state, a casual “How are you doing?” becomes a cold-hearted slam. A husband asking, “What’s for dinner?” is grounds for divorce. Can’t they see life is horrible, our baby lost, nothing will ever be the same, and can’t he make his own freaking dinner just once?
What is happening is partly the people around us–most don’t really know what to do or say to a greiving mother–and part of it our inability to process outside stimulus. These hormones literally become a jumbled filter and so much of what we would ordinarily handle perfectly well–a mess on the floor, an abrupt end to a phone call, a comment about our appearance–will become huge issues.
It’s not really our fault. And hopefully everyone will give us the space and understanding we need. We will get better, not because we’ve forgotten the baby or the sadness of our loss, but because our bodies have filtered out these conflicting hormones and now we can think more clearly and organize our feelings into those that bear getting upset over and those we can wave away.
If you’re here, and everything seems upside down and everyone in your life is upsetting you, just take a deep breath, get as much time to yourself as possible, and when the going gets rough, break some small piece of inconsequential dinnerware. You’ll get better. I promise.
March 2, 2007 at 12:13 pm · Filed under Grief, Miscarriage, Related Movies-Songs
Sometimes as I go about life I stumble across something that brings my loss eight years ago flooding back. When I do, I tend to drown in it, obsess over it. Really dig in and let the grief and emotion wash over me again. It keeps Casey close, and even though it’s sad and hard, later I am glad I didn’t let life move on so fast that I don’t stop and devote a little time every once in a while just for him.
Yesterday I was randomly surfing Itunes for music and came across Josh Groban’s song “You Raise Me Up.” I loved his voice and today spent some time learning about this young singing sensation.
A few minutes ago I ran across this song and knew I had to post if for you ladies. I decided to link to this version of it rather than the actual video for the song as it features a woman as the subject, a lost love affair, but when he actually sings the song without images, well…you’ll understand.
Don’t do it at work, if you’re susceptible. Save it for a quiet moment…just you and your baby.
Josh Groban singing “To Where You Are” on Jay Leno
More information about Josh’s debut CD with this song. He’s done many CDs since:
Josh Groban CD
Take time out for this. It’s sacred time. And it’s okay to grieve. For hours, days, months, and even all your life. It’s how we humans are designed–to mourn our loss in order to hold our love and hope all the closer to our hearts.
February 20, 2007 at 3:28 pm · Filed under Miscarriage, Suicide
Among the emails I receive daily are suicide notes.
Some women just write to express their fears about having thoughts of suicide. Others are in full-blown distress, ready to give up on this world.
When I first began receiving emails like this, I felt panicked. I was not trained in even the most basic psychology. I had no experience with women who were reaching out. I had no idea what I could do or say to make a difference.
But when that first one arrived, I had little I could do but respond, and fast. I actually DID call a suicide hotline and asked them what to say and do. I learned some very important things, and I share those as well as ideas that are specific to us–the mothers of lost babies.
First, there are two categories of thoughts about suicide: passive and active.
Passive thoughts include just wishing for death, considering how others will handle your suicide, and feeling the need to ease the intensity of your emotional and sometimes physical pain. You might research suicide on the Internet or look over books about it. You are just thinking about dying. These are normal and happen to everyone in times of depression or distress.
Active thoughts include considering what method of suicide you might use, counting pills, locating a gun in the house, or making any sort of plans. This is a stage where you actually DO things. If you get this far–then it’s time to get help NOW. The quickest and simplest is to stop everything, pick up your phone, and call 1-800-SUICIDE.
I think it is fine to reach out to anyone who will listen when your thoughts are passive. Most of the women who write me are frustrated with family and friends who are not understanding. I know now that all they need from me is validation that their feelings are real and serious and difficult, that their baby was wonderful and the loss is impossibly hard, and that it’s a long road to recovery, not the three or so days others believe it should last. You can find this sort of help at a pregnancy loss group, on bulletin boards on the Internet, or even among your friends who have had miscarriages that you didn’t know about.
When you get to the active stage, however, you simply cannot rely on friends and family anymore. They may not get it. They might not see. Their failure to take this seriously or to listen will compound your depression and can even trigger you to act. It’s critical you find someone, anyone, who can guide you to professional help.
When I wrote Tina’s suicide attempt into the book, I tried to show how passive thoughts can morph into active ones. Most of the time we can see the shift, as long as we know ahead of time that there is a difference. For Tina, though, it happened too fast. The post-pregnancy hormone changes don’t help, making every system in your body less able to cope.
Here is her segment of the novel.
On that day she came home from the hospital, all Tina knew was that her baby was dead, her boyfriend gone, and she’d soon be booted back to the horror of public school. Leaning over the sink in her bathroom, she washed her face and hands and the gleam of water on her white wrists seemed too pristine, too pearl. The razors lay neatly in the chest of art supplies and she stopped thinking, stopped rationalizing anything at all. The act wasn’t about killing herself, not in that moment, or about escaping, it was about marring the perfection of her arms. She was tainted, her baby had died, she was unloved and unwanted. She felt she should be marked by this–that her physical body should bear the scars of the death of her happiness.
She leaned her pale arm against the sink and didn’t hesitate once.
The main thing I wanted to get across today to those of you who have googled miscarriage and suicide, or miscarriage and wanting to die, which are very common combinations that bring you to this blog, is there is an important difference between thoughts of dying and thoughts of how to do it. If you are still in the first category, keep reading, keep reaching out, keep healing. You will get there. If you start to shift, if you sense your thoughts moving toward plans or funerals or even revenge–ACT. Act NOW.
Email me.
Go to Psych Central, an amazing website for mental health and an online community
Or call 1-800-SUICIDE.
But do something. Life the way it is now is not the way it will be a year from now. I once contemplated taking my car off a cliff and into the fog about two weeks after my baby died. We had found out the genetic testing had failed, our marriage was falling apart, and we were fighting like we never had.
I didn’t know then that less than twelve months later I would give birth to a healthy little girl and a few years later to a second. I’m glad I hung around to find out.
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