Not alone...

     Yesterday I heard the news about British pop singer Lily Allen and her boyfriend Sam Cooper. They were 6 months pregnant and lost their baby this past weekend. Just last week I was musing that while every now and then a celebrity will come out and say they've suffered a miscarriage in the past, it is rare (I guess as rare as it is in "normal" pregnancies) that they share stories of later pregnancy losses. Since yesterday, as I've scoured the internet for new about what happened to them, I've found a few others... But there's such a sense of shame around the whole thing.
     It's only now, living through this, that I notice how taboo this topic is. I've known people who've had miscarriages, and unless they've told me about it themselves, I'll avoid the topic. I've felt sympathetic to their pain, but couldn't imagine it. So, I would say nothing. I don't think it dawned on me to offer condolences for their loss. I know better now. I also know that the father needs love and support as well.
     This feels like a scattered, disjointed post, and I'm sorry for that. What I'm trying to say is that pregnancy loss shouldn't be this way! When a couple loses a child, we are allowed and expected to condole and grieve with the parents. This baby that I carried in my womb, the babies of all these women- these are our children. They're not foreign ideas or concept or tissue matter. They are, truly, tiny little perfect babies. Even in their imperfections, should that be the case, they are perfect to us. We should be allowed to share our stories as much as any other mother. It seems our society has a hard time with death in general. We don't know what to say, how to say it, what to do. I can tell you, for myself, even the words "I don't know what to say", bring a sense of comfort. A sense that my loss is larger than words can allow. And it is. A hug. A gentle "how are you holding up?" or "do you need anything?" Those all work very well. Ask me about our daughter! Ask me who she looked like, what her name is....
     I wonder if perhaps, my meaning in all this will be to help others. I feel already like it brings me a sense of comfort and peace to reach out to others who are hurting in this way. I was reading about the celebrations held all across North America on October 15th, to remember our babies. There is nothing in Quebec. Not one. In Ontario, I think I counted about 10 different public candle lightings. Not here. Although I have a few theories as to why this is, I don't fully understand. But, I think if I'm in a place next year where I can make that little difference, I'd like to do that.

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I was wondering this morning, as I watched the usual parade of horrible memories in my mind, whether it will ever stop. I know, it's barely been a month (tomorrow in fact...), but will I ever have a quiet peaceful moment, not invaded by the memories of that weekend in the hospital? All the things leading up to our losing our little sweetheart play through my mind. Conversations between us and nurses, things the doctors said, pushing, hoping, the fear, those minutes when they told me and life changed in a instant....

<3