How do you say goodbye to someone with whom you shared not a past full of memories, but a future made of fantasies? How do you make space for sadness when you're surrounded by messages, both internal and external, telling you to buck up and move on?
Miscarriage isn't about pregnancy ambivalence or anxiety, prior abortions or outbursts of venomous anger, feelings of sadness or anything else that you can seemingly control. Miscarriage is simpler than all of that. It is loss of life that wasn't sustainable.
This was a major turning point in my life. It didn't make sense to me, and it did not seem right. It is one of the reasons I gave up my former career path, went back to school, and became an infertility counsellor.
Anyone who has had a miscarriage, or even worse a several pregnancy losses, can't help but ask herself, "what is wrong with me? Why can't my body hold onto a baby?" Oddly enough, scientists are asking just the opposite.
In the midst of your Mother's Day celebrations, take some time to remember your cousin in Houston whose fertility treatments are failing, your next-door neighbor who had a stillbirth three years ago, or your grandmother who lost a child but could never bring herself to tell anyone.