"I wasn't as far along"

After my stillbirth, a couple of friends approached me and quietly shared their pregnancy losses - miscarriages & early stillbirth, there weren't many of them but as I became part of this quiet club of mothers missing their babies I often heard "but I wasn't as far as you" and at the time I accepted that this pain was my own - no one I knew had experienced the loss that I had. In ignorance I half believed that while the pain of loosing a baby is unbearable and nothing no parent should endure - if I managed to escape the heavy beating that my aching heart took while I grieved my stillborn son then anyone that "wasn't as far along" as me would be okay. I quickly began to turn that idea around as I spent time on the forums around wonderful women who had experienced losses all over the board; from early to late pregnancy and infancy, I soon realized that the length of time wasn't nearly as important as the level of attachment. Not that I have ever thought  that the agony of loosing a baby is any less for those parents because of how far along they were nor have I ever believed that someone who seemed to grieve faster or easier didn't love their baby, everyone grieves differently and that is just part of the process.

However, it wasn't until my own miscarriage that I fully understood how heavy that pain is regardless of how long that baby was here. I was only ten weeks, a mere quarter of the time I had spent pregnant with our son and I remember on the way to that last ultrasound trying to prepare for bad news. I imagined being upset, after all I knew how much my heart already loved this baby, but my second pregnancy ended in an early loss and while that too made me sad, everything happened so quickly that I never got the chance to fall in love, that pain just couldn't compare to that of loosing our son. But nothing could have prepared me for the agonizing pain as the doctor told me we had lost our baby, my heart was so broken and I couldn't believe how much it hurt. I grieved for the little baby that I loved, surprised by how much I was aching despite having only carried him/her for a fraction of the time I did our son, but there was this part of me that wished I had more for this one. With our son, we delivered him, held him tightly as we memorized his little face and there are keepsakes that will always be his. We had a memorial for our son, a vague sense of closure as we gathered with loved ones to remember our little boy. When we were first told that our son was gone, I was angry and frustrated that the Lord would put us and my body through all of this for seemingly nothing - I wouldn't get my baby anyway, if he had to go back to heaven why didn't I loose him before my heart had the chance to love him? I was so hurt that the Lord seemed to have abandoned ship, was there even a plan?. But the moment I held our precious son I was grateful, as I still am, for every day that I got with him. I got forty weeks of memories, of having him kick and wiggle as he heard us talk to him, of dreams and hopes that we had imagined for the little boy that grew in my belly, I am grateful for every day that I got with him and if I had to loose him then I knew how blessed I was with the time that I had with him. But with my miscarriage I have a few notes and pictures that I connect to it but other than that, the procedure was quick and disconnected from the fact that my baby was being taken away from me (& I understand the necessity to that disconnection which is why I fought my mind hard to keep that thought away during the procedure), there was obviously no memorial and even now I wonder what may be the best way to memorialize that little baby of ours. I'll never know if that baby was a boy or a girl, with only a tiny blur of an ultrasound I can't imagine what he or she looked like and so there if very little in comparison that I can put away to remember that little May baby of ours. However despite the differences between them, there is a glaring similarity, that love I felt for those two babies was more than I could have ever imagined and that will never change.

I have experienced three very different losses, in that time I have become so aware of the pain and ache that accompanies these losses but if this is part of the plan for me then I am glad to know that my aching heart and empty arms have given me the awareness needed to comfort and help other women. I remember our Bishop visiting us a day or so after we left the hospital without our precious little boy - I remember him telling me that this grief would turn around and that soon I would be there for another mother in the midst of this terrible grief and he has been so right. I have found many women through the online communities that I have virtually sat beside, praying for their hearts to be comforted and praying for their precious babies. It is that same thought that goes through my mind as I write this blog, not every post and not always but I hope that as this blog continues to grow that someone who needs comfort and understanding will find that here. I know that there is a plan, and I know that our babies watch over us and with the knowledge that I am their mom and that I will have the chance to hold them again someday I am grateful for every moment I got with them in this lifetime. I will always dream of more, with our son and with our early losses but I know - without any bit of doubt, that it is not the length of time that we spend with our babies that matters but the extent of attachment and love we feel for them that makes the difference in how we grieve and remember them.

I have felt so strongly of this subject since our miscarriage, and the early days after when I told one angel mom that her grief wasn't any less than mine because of how far along I was with our son when we lost him. I remember how much she seemed to appreciate knowing that her grief was just as real, so I hope that this post isn't too rediculously long winded - definitely helped me to write it out. :)

xo, Anne.