Just For Today...

...And then there are those days where you are just "surviving".
Days where you are pushed to the limit and you have reached a crossroads of intense trial and pain...and survival is the most you can manage.
Today is one of those days for me.

I debated not writing this because there are so many little blurbs and articles and what-evers that cover some of what I am feeling and experiencing right now, but none of them are my story, and as I value each person's story and voice as an individual contributing to the collective, I am worthy of the same consideration...or at least, I felt moved to toss  my hat in there too.

See, as I write this, my body is saying goodbye to what I thought would by my third child.  I have had two pregnancy losses in the past, before my second son was born, and this was to be our third child.  I was planning to tell my family next week, because that would have been the "safe" point.  It feels good to share my experience and I have always been a "sharer" of my thoughts and feelings, but I was mostly inspired because I've seen a few of those "what not to say to a woman who has miscarried" articles going around (like this one)  and while I have appreciated most of what they have asserted, I had a few things to add.

Loosing a pregnancy can be a complicated thing emotionally.  It can mean something different for everyone.  For some women, it is the same as having a child die, to the point where they memorialize the child equipped with a name and an anniversary of death,  no matter how far along in the pregnancy they were.  For some it's a loss like no other; otherworldly in fact...and solitary, unspeakable.  Perhaps this is the thinking behind the quiet solitude woman in our culture carry with loss, perhaps because some place a stigma of guilt or shame on it, as a sign of deficiency on behalf of the woman.  I can certainly understand those feelings.  Our bodies remind us every month what these amazing parts are capable of, and for those of us who have had healthy children already, we know what they CAN do and have done, so when we loose a pregnancy, it can feel as though our bodies are letting us down; the very center of our femaleness has malfunctioned in some way, or so it seems or feels...or appears.  And perhaps for some, it is not such a deep loss, but on some level, we all go through stages of grief, stages of physical trial and for some of us, we can be scarred so deeply that it may take years to recover.  Sometimes, the scars are not just from the loss itself but are inflicted by the ignorance around us, dis-compassionate medical professionals, or the whole traumatic package, overwhelming us beyond what we can manage.

For me, the now three pregnancies that were not meant to be, are now somewhere between those examples I gave, but someone else has already articulated wonderfully how I see my lost children.  I had read a wonderful book a few years back when researching birth options and learning about home birth in anticipation of my first born; Baby Catcher: Chronicles of a Modern Midwife by Peggy Vincent.  Among this wonderful collection of her adventures catching babies with mothers of all different backgrounds and temperaments, there is one chapter where she discloses her own story of loss.  Her child Colin, no more than 10 at the time, goes to his mother to comfort her, and shares with her what I see as one of the sweetest and most lovely ideas about the children who do not make it through us as expected.

Colin asked, “Are you crying about the baby?” and when I nodded tearfully, he said, “Well, 
you just have to have another one, Mom, because it’s a Spirit Baby, and you should be its
 mother.”
I must have looked puzzled because he said, “Don’t you know about Spirit Babies? How could I know about them if you don’t? I mean, you’re my mom!” But he could see my perplexity. So my first child, this not-yet-teenaged boy, pulled a wooden chair to my side and draped his thin arm across my shoulders, saying, “Well, Mom, here’s how it is. See, I was one myself, so that must be how I know. Anyway, every woman has a circle of babies that goes around and around above her head, and those are all the possible babies she could have in her whole life. Every month, one of those babies is first in line. If she gets pregnant, then that’s the baby that’s born. If she doesn’t get pregnant, the baby goes back into the circle and keeps going around with all the others. If she gets pregnant but something bad happens before the baby’s born…now listen, Mom, because here’s the really cool part. It goes back into the circle, but it becomes a Spirit Baby, and all the other babies give it cuts. Each month, it’s always first in line. Isn’t that great?
“So you just have to get pregnant again, and you’ll have the same Spirit Baby. If you don’t, though, then the baby circle will just beam that little Spirit Baby over to some other woman’s circle, and it’ll be first in line for her. It keeps being first in line somewhere until it finally gets born.
“But it’d be a shame for you not to have it yourself, because I know how much you want it. So you just have to try again. Mom, remember that baby you lost before I was born?” I nodded wordlessly. “Well, that was me. Really. I’ve always known I was a Spirit Baby. I mean, I know what I’m talking about here, Mom.”


This idea is apparently echoed across the globe, from different traditions, cultures and spiritual teachings.  It is thought to extend beyond just our children, but to anyone who we are tied to in spirit; that the spirits will be born and if we are meant to be together, there will be a connection somehow.  This belief has carried me in my journey.  Knowing that I will meet the little girl I dreamed about so vividly one night years ago.  If she is not brought into the world through my body, that perhaps, she will be my granddaughter or even a daughter in law...who is to say.  I simply have faith.

All that's left for me to say now is directed at anyone who knows someone who is going through this particular sort of loss, and sadly, it's more of you than you may realize.  It is estimated that 1 in 4 pregnancies end in loss in the USA, around 1 million each year*.   What I want to share with you is that, no matter what your relationship to this woman is, no matter how smart you are or how wise you think you are, there is nothing you can do.  You cannot fix it, so please don't try.  Please don't judge, analyse or harass the poor girl with questions...and if you must do these things, do them alone in your head...after you have left the grieving woman's presence.  If she is sharing her story with you, please listen with an open heart and your most empathetic ears.  She is not asking for advice unless she asks for advice.  She is not asking if her feelings are acceptable or irrational or too strong or too weak...unless she asks you those questions.  Just listen.  Just be there.  If you feel moved to emote something yourself, then that is your sharing your feelings, and that is fine...but she probably just wants to know that she said it out loud and managed to not fall apart, or maybe not...but you can't be sure, so best not to try to figure it out.  Support means acceptance and love, and sometimes "I am so sorry" is all we need to hear.  It helps us embrace the reality and allows us to mourn, without the pressure of expectation or fear of criticism.  The number of children a woman has can be a deeply personal and spiritual choice, and often, not a choice at all, so as a general rule, people should curb their opinions on that matter all together.
There really is nothing to say, but "I'm here for you", so if you can't say that, please, don't say anything.  If it's a matter of feeling useful or offering your help, maybe offer to take her existing children somewhere, or offer to help out around the house...basically the same things a new mother needs; back up, so she can tend to the new situation.  I have been so blessed to have an active husband and father for our children, who can work from a home office at the moment, so I've been able to take care of myself and have support knowing that everyone is getting what they need.  No matter what is going on for me, I need to know my children are cared for, so I can relax and focus on my needs.

I have to return to real time now.  Two vibrant, healthy little boys await their mommy's return to life in progress.  The past few days have been like a trip through suspended animation, watching everything happen around me like I wasn't really here; my mind traveling that fine line between worlds.  
To anyone who is reading this and can relate to my story, I am truly sorry, but just know that you are not alone.  If we share our experiences with one another, maybe women in the future will not have to feel shame or the solitude that often comes with such loss.
So, I'm ending this journal entry from my life with some words from the very spirit of childhood and love...

                         "If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together.. there is something you must always                              remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. but the most important thing is, even if we're apart.. I'll always be with you." 
                                                                      ~ Winnie the Pooh (A.A. Milne)


* http://www.hopexchange.com/Statistics.htm