Friday, October 14, 2005

In memoriam, Part II

I miscarried this past week.

I had debated posting news of my pregnancy here, not only because of what "could" happen, but also because I never really had a good feeling about it. Not like with my son, even during the two weeks I waited to find out whether he was "viable" after failing to hear his heartbeat using a Doppler device. (It turned out he was four weeks younger than we thought.)

Ultimately I posted because I figured if something did go wrong, I could still write something about it and hope it reached someone else in pain. Miscarriage is one of those events no one likes to talk about, even as common as it is. Many women feel it's too private to go into with strangers. Others refrain from talking about for fear of offending people. I think it's too common not to talk about.

And yet, I find myself unable to write out my deepest thoughts and fears and anger: my grief. Because I know people who know me, but don't know miscarriage, are reading this blog. And I hate, hate, sharing parts of myself with people who don't understand. I didn't even like talking pregnancy with women who had never been pregnant. To write something out and thus make someone believe they can understand my pain - or worse, someone else's close to them - would be the grossest insult to me and to anyone else who has ever miscarried and then had to deal with secondary pain from insensitive people. I know, the purpose of writing is to share one's perspective on the human condition with strangers. But y'know what? That's for my fiction.

So, I miscarried. I said it, and publicly, that's all I'll say about it. But I welcome anyone else who's grieving to get in touch. You can respond through comments, or email me through my website. For the rest of you, I encourage you to spend time - real time, not just a spare thought - appreciating what you have. I sure have.


Blogger Ronn said...

What a terrible thing to have happen. I am so sorry for you and your family. And because I risk mistepping and saying something insensitive, I will simply say, you have my condolences and I am sending sympathic thoughts your way.

14/10/05 8:35 PM  
Blogger Jean said...

I'm sorry.

15/10/05 6:27 AM  
Blogger Hope said...

I'm so sorry for your loss. I miscarried a few years ago and felt EXACTLY the same as you. In fact, everything you've written sounds just like my thoughts and feelings at that time. Know that you're not alone. And allow yourself all the time you need to grieve your loss. (((HUGS)))

15/10/05 7:26 PM  
Blogger Ann D said...

I'm very sorry. I still remember how awful it felt (both physically and emotionally) when I was having my miscarriage. I am sending you big hugs.

17/10/05 3:40 AM  
Anonymous Shannon said...

Sweetie, I am sorry for you loss. There are no magical words that accompany such a loss. It sucks. I will never get over it as long as I live.

24/10/05 11:40 AM  
Anonymous Jenn said...

I am so sorry. I have been where you are and I know your pain. I truly am sorry for your pain and loss.

25/10/05 10:00 PM  
Anonymous Melanie Lynne Hauser said...

I'm so sorry, Angela. I have no words of comfort to offer, really, other than my hope that you allow yourself to grieve and surround yourself with people who love you.

27/10/05 12:03 PM  
Blogger Holly said...

You have my deepest sympathy. I've been where you are. I wish I had something that I could offer as sure comfort.

30/10/05 12:37 AM  
Blogger Sweet Soul said...

I have had the unfortunate experience of losing my son, Logan, who was stillborn. I will not profess to know what it is you are going through because we all experience grief differently. Just know that you are thought of and lifted up in prayer.

2/11/05 3:57 PM  
Blogger Dy said...

I am sorry for your loss. I'm not good at comfort though. I've had three pregnancies, two deliveries, and one living child to show for it and words of comfort don't work.

I wish now that people had told me the truth about their grief experience rather than platitudes, so, here goes:

There are no words, the hurt never truly goes away, and you will always wonder.

You'll feel guilty the first year the estimated due date passes and you didn't think about it.

You will always remember the way it felt when it happened and you'll most likely never be able to explain it. Anyone who asks you to is begging to be smacked.

You'll probably spend some time agonizing over whether or not to try to explain it to your son.

Like I said, I'm not good at comfort, but I hope a little truth helps, too.

14/12/05 10:15 AM  

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