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I represent the one in four.
The one out of every four women who have experienced or will experience the loss of a baby through miscarriage. We unceremoniously join this group of women through immeasurable heartache. It’s a sort of club that we never asked to be part of and one other people don’t really like to talk about. It’s often a very lonely and silent journey.
Grief over a pregnancy loss is like no other. As if we’re expected to grieve “less” because our babies haven’t been born yet. Having lost a handful of significant people in my life over the years, I can tell you that there’s no measure for grief. There’s no “more” or “less”…just “different.” Grief over a pregnancy loss is not just about the physical loss of a baby. It’s also the loss of an entire lifetime with a child we will never get to experience. Or even know what they looked like.
At least 25% off all pregnancies (I say “at least,” because I firmly believe that this number is conservative) end in pregnancy loss. So if that does not include you, then it definitely includes someone you know. Pregnancy loss is real. Whether at 8 weeks or 8 months, the grief is real. To the outside world, I’m a mom of two. But in reality, I am a mom to three. My heart will never let me forget that.
Well-meaning words cut deep and (unintentionally) invalidate the huge loss we feel. So choose your words wisely. Or if you’re unsure, “I’m sorry” or “Can I bring you a meal?” are fine options. Just by acknowledging that we hurt means enough. Being present in our lives, walking alongside us no matter how long it’s been, is enough.
Today, October 15th, is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day. I think of our son often, but especially on this day along with a number of friends’ babies who we will never get to meet here on earth. Today, please be thoughtful and kind to the mamas you know who have experienced loss. And tonight, if you feel led, light a candle in remembrance of the babies who were born asleep, or whom we carried but never met, or those we have held but could not take home, or the ones who made it home, but didn’t stay.
Oh mama, this blog post almost had me in tears. Nothing worse than loosing a baby. We lost ours at 19 weeks and I still think about this weet baby all the time.