I'm writing this post for a lot of reasons. One is that it has been six months since the miscarriage, which is a shocking amount of months to me. It doesn't feel like it happened yesterday, but it also doesn't seem like it has been half a year. I am also writing this because Baby Ramm would have been due at the end of this month, so I have been thinking about him a lot lately. (I think it was a boy.) Another reason is that writing is therapeutic to me. It helps me work out my thoughts and feelings.
But the main reason I am writing this is because I hope it will help someone else who is going through this or will go through it at some point. The biggest thing that has helped me get through these rough months has been the willingness of brave mamas to share their stories with me. SO MANY women and families go through this. But we don't talk about it. Sure, you can go online and find support groups or websites dedicated to miscarriage and infant loss. But it is not part of regular, "polite" conversation. The world does not know how to acknowledge this kind of loss. For example, people who do not know about the miscarriage will say things like "It's about time you have another one isn't it?" or "She needs a little brother or sister." I know these comments are meant to be well-meaning, but they can be so hurtful, too. I would love to be able to say "well, actually we would like to have another one, but I had a miscarriage a few months ago" and not have to worry that it will make the person feel awkward. There is something inherently unfair about being the person suffering and having to look out for the feelings of the people who are asking about things that are, to be frank, none of their business. (Sidebar: For the record, even without the added hurt of a miscarriage, asking people about their family planning is wildly inappropriate under any circumstance, unless you are a close family member or friend, and even then it is an iffy, if forgivable, offense. I am so guilty. I freely admit to having done this before on multiple occasions.) So it is my hope that in some small way, my sharing will help change that.
I don't want you to think that I am not coping. I have been functioning normally this whole time, going to work, taking care of my daughter, keeping the mess at a dull roar, what have you. But what I have come to realize is important, and what I think I have finally done, is deal with the grief directly. I don't think I did this until about a month ago or so. Prior to that I did a variety of things that, in retrospect, were ways to distract myself from feeling it directly. Here are some of the things I did:
- Redecorated my living room. It gave me something to focus on, but once it was complete I felt terrible again. Also, it was expensive.
- Decided our bedroom needed a little sprucing up too, while we were at it. Again, goodbye money.
- Ate my feelings. Oh, hey there extra twenty pounds. (Some of it was gained while pregnant, some while depressed. Don't worry, I have already taken 10 of it off, a side effect of finally dealing with the grief head on.)
- Went back to work immediately. Yep, I had the miscarriage on a Friday and was back to work on Monday morning! This is crazy.
- Pretended like nothing happened while I was at work. This turned out to be a huge mistake, resulting in a fairly embarrassing breakdown one day in the office. It was brought on by an acquaintance experiencing a horrible infant loss tragedy, but clearly my own miscarriage grief was just below the surface. My boss, who was aware of our loss, said she had kind of been expecting some kind of reaction at work, and very generously offered me some time off to deal. Which, this time, I was smart enough to take.
- Did not communicate my feelings to my husband. Erik is the sweetest and most attentive husband, so we were both surprised by information that finally came out: For Erik, that I was grieving Baby Ramm on a daily basis, even 5 months later, in varying levels of severity and, for me, that he didn't know that.
