I didn’t mean to post this at first, but reading the accounts of other mothers who have been through miscarriages has been helpful to me, so I thought I’d share it after all. Maybe someone will find this helpful.
Grief is an interesting thing. Sometimes you can think about or talk very calmly and sensibly about your feelings and what you’ve been through, and feel almost fine. You might even pursue your ordinary interests with joy. At other times the smallest thing can make you cry or ache inside, you can loose your appetite from time to time, and find yourself unable to do things. The curtains I was working on for the boys’ room have, regrettably, been untouched for three weeks, but the Halloween decorations are progressing nicely… playing is just so much easier than working right now, so work that is not strictly necessary gets shoved aside.
Watching my children play is usually a source of joy, but then one day it made me cry – the baby I lost will never run around and play, at least not in this mortal world. I miss the wonderful person it could have been, the cuddles I’ll never get.
Finding a pair of baby mittens I knitted before Eldest was born didn’t bother me at all, but finding a pair of tiny white baby socks in a cupboard made me go to pieces.
Gentle words, hugs and acts of kindness makes me cry, yet I appreciate that people care about me.
The fact that my brother and sister in law are expecting around the same time my due date should have been – once a very exciting coincidence – is now mainly a reminder of my own loss. Her bump is socute, and I’m sad about the fact that I can’t rejoice with them like I would have liked.
That it was most likely something seriously wrong with the poor wee thing and that what happened was probably for the best is a comfort only on an intellectual plane. Emotionally it doesn’t matter a jot. As soon as I saw the plus on the pregnancy test, that knot of cells had a place in my heart, and hopes and dreams for what I already considered to be my child were formed, and they deepened and increased as the weeks and months passed. You can’t just toss all that out the window, no matter how sensible the reasoning.
“Grief is the price of love” – even if the object of your love was only a few inches long when it was lost to you.