Why I haven't written about my miscarriage

Tomorrow is October 15th, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day. I feel obligated to write something about this, either about pregnancy and infant loss in general, or about healing, or about how things have changed for me over time, or even just in memory as my due date approaches. October 21, 2010, would/could/should have been Evan Michael DeGroff's 3rd birthday. Yes, I realize that due dates are worthless, but it's the only date I have.

I blogged about my miscarriage extensively in the weeks following my loss in 2007. At first, family and friends were supportive, but it didn't take long for a select, vocal few to make me feel like I needed to crawl into a protective shell. They made me sorry that I had made myself vulnerable and had expressed my true feelings.

Why haven't I written about Evan since then, or about loss? It's largely still self-protective and defensive. I'm apprehensive to write anything at all for a fear that people will say something stupid and cruel in response. I still feel betrayed by people who hurt me when this first happened.

The biggest issue I have been avoiding is the "define baby" argument. You are welcome to your own opinion. If you would like to write a few paragraphs about why you think I'm wrong, I suggest that you start your own blog and post it there, instead of littering the comment box with insensitive remarks on how I don't have the right to grieve a baby that "didn't exist." That's what much of this issue boils down to. I lost my BABY in 2007. My real CHILD. Not my "almost-child" or "imaginary child" or "potential to be a child." Not my *shudder* "product of conception," as the ER staff called him. (Even saying the term "product of conception" triggers PTSD in me, or nearly so.) Not just "tissue" or "blob" or "lump of cells." I'll say it very clearly: my baby died.

I know that this isn't the case for everyone, but some people who are "pro-choice" have made it their mission to invalidate my pain and my right to grieve my baby's death, because if they acknowledge my mourning my dead baby as legitimate, with a real source, then what does that say about their stance on stopping that beating heart willingly and purposefully? One pro-choice friend admitted to me that this was the case for her.

I'm also not in the mood to hear any of the following:

"Be thankful. At least you have (insert number here) healthy children."

I am thankful for my healthy children, as well as for God who holds my baby in Heaven and will get me through this, for my loving husband, for the roof over my head, and for the fact that we have enough to eat. One can be thankful for any number of things and still mourn a loss. Grief doesn't diminish or negate thankfulness. Would you say the same thing to me if I were mourning the loss of my grandmother?

"At least you can try again/have more children."

That's really insensitive for a number of reasons, and inaccurate, too. Children are not disposable and replaceable. I cannot go get another one like replacing a 29-cent goldfish. I wanted *that* baby. If any more babies come in the future, I will want them, too. Not only that, but it's not true that just because someone is young and apparently healthy, that they can automatically have more children. You don't know what struggles some people have with trying to conceive, infertility, and the challenges of gestating with joy after a previous loss.

"Your baby isn't 'lost', he's in Heaven now."

Yes, I'm aware of that. I just use the euphemism "lost" to make people feel more comfortable in conversation, but if you prefer that I say "My baby died," I can do that.

"At least it happened early before you got to know him/ got attached."

Um, no. My baby died. I love him. I loved him from the minute I got the positive pregnancy test. I was attached and still am attached. If anything, I envy the time that mothers have with their babies who got more time with them than I did. At least the rest of the world acknowledges the existence of those babies.

"It's better that it happened this way because something would have been wrong with him if he would have lived."

You might feel that way, but I don't. I will love my babies even if they are not "perfect." Maybe you will only accept a perfect baby, and would abort or give a baby up for adoption if they didn't meet your criteria for "perfect," i.e. no Down Syndrome, no birth defects, no cleft lip/palate, no heart defect, boy/girl of your preference, etc. This is America and that's your legal right; I cannot change your mind and will not try to. Keep in mind, however, that nobody is guaranteed a "perfect," "healthy" child, even if they appear so at birth. We are not guaranteed that our children will not get cancer, have heart problems, or be challenged or differently abled in any number of ways.

"It must have been God's will."

Well, to a certain degree, but maybe not the way it's worded here. Without turning my business blog into a religious pulpit, I'd like to at least point out that we live in an imperfect, fallen world. This is not the world that God made; it was perfect when he made it, without sin and without disease or hurt. It was man's sin which brought death and problems into this world. The whole of creation suffers as a result, even the innocent. This is within God's permissive will (meaning He allows it to occur) but I don't believe that God *wants* for babies to die (or be sick or hurt, etc.).

"Just trust God."

Again, yes, but not as it's worded. This is invariably the trite phrase people say when they see that I'm on the verge of tears and they don't know what to say, so they say this. I *do* trust God, thanks. I have from the beginning. And it still hurts. It's called grief, and it's normal to grieve when someone you love dies.

"Don't be angry at God!"

I'm not angry at God. I'm not trying to put down anyone who has this struggle, but personally, it was something I did not experience. So please quit telling me that I did.

"Nobody grieves like this. There must be something wrong with you. You need to seek a therapist and get on medication."

I'd like to throw in a caveat. Some parents do need medical/professional/pharmaceutical help. I'm not arguing that. I would, however, like to say that it's not fair to tell *me* that there's something WRONG with me when there's not, just because the person is uncomfortable with my grief. That's not fair. If you're uncomfortable with seeing or hearing me grieve, that's fine. Walk off.

"You're just trying to make me feel as though I didn't grieve enough/correctly when I had my miscarriage."

No, I'm not.

"Maybe God was trying to teach you a lesson about your life when He allowed this to happen to you."

I heard this from a family member. When I told him that I realized that he didn't mean for it to come across the way that it sounded, but that it was hurtful to me, he clarified that he *did* in fact mean it the way it sounded, and proceeded to give me an hour's worth of earful about his perceptions of my character flaws. I did not feel that it was constructive criticism.

"Maybe the baby you're pregnant with now is really the baby you lost reincarnated!"

This came from someone of a different religion than myself, who *knew* for a fact that I am Christian. Maybe she didn't know much about biblical teachings, but the Bible says that it is appointed to people ONCE to die (not many multiple times) (Heb. 9:27). I'm not trying to belittle anyone who has different beliefs, but if reincarnation were true, then I wasted a HEAP of time crying over my dead baby. All I needed to do was hurry up and get pregnant again as quickly as possible so that I could get my dead baby back. The only inconvenience therein would be an estimated due date about a month or two later. Not only that, but we felt that our dead baby was a boy and named him Evan. Our next baby was a girl.

This is but a small sampling of the unbelieveable (believable) things people say to mothers whose babies have died. Other grieving mothers have told me they have heard the same things. It's not fair that I should feel silenced because it makes other people uncomfortable. Sometimes I feel strong enough to speak out so that I can encourage other mothers that they are not alone, and other times I just want to put up that wall to protect my heart.

Maybe this post is TMI. Maybe this is too personal to share, especially on my business page. But with loss, I feel that you either have to get honest and personal or don't bring it up at all. What good is it to write about loss in terms of platitudes and generalities?

I feel like this had to be said before I could say anything else about loss.