Stigma

It’s heartbreaking losing a child at any stage, and I’ve come to look at my loss in a different way. If I can do my little part to raise some kind of awareness and get people to actually talk about it then maybe I can feel like my Daughters life wasn’t a complete loss, that maybe this could offer some slight comfort to someone out there going through a similar loss.

When we face the facts miscarriages, stillbirths, and infant deaths are fucking sad. They are tragic losses and no one really talks about them. Its taboo, there is a stigma attached and so many women hide their losses, so many women feel a sense of shame. When I first had my Daughter I had a few people reach out to me, telling me of their losses and offering me words of comfort. It was shocking because I had known these people either as a friend of a friend or an actual friend and I had never heard they had a miscarriage, or a stillborn child. But they saw my loss, and felt the strength to share their experience and share that there could be light at the end of this tunnel.

There is absolutely, without a doubt no right or wrong way to handle the loss of a child at any stage. So just to set the stage for this blog and whats to come, I will swear, I will use foul language, and I might honestly offend some people. But this is my experience, this is my life, she was my Daughter and this is how I’ve survived so far. When I lost my Daughter I searched endlessly for answers, for guidance, for blogs, for any sort of information or guidance on how the hell do I survive this. And what did I find? A whole lot of dead end answers, I found a lot of religious suggestions, group meeting suggestions and none of that seemed to offer any peace to me. I was literally sitting in my bathroom sobbing, on my phone looking for some kind of answer and the closest I could find were message boards of women that had experienced similar losses, but I couldn’t find anything like mine.

I recently went to see a grief and loss counselor for the first time last week, and she suggested anti depressants, and journaling. I picked the journaling, but as I thought about this I kept feeling the urge to want to help people, I kept feeling the sadness for other Mothers going through this loss and knowing there frankly isn’t shit out there. During my first few months my Best Friend sent me a link to a blog for an amazing lady named Kate, she lives in Ireland and she had gone through a similar loss earlier this year, 2017. She was inspiring, I commented on her blog and emailed her a bit back and forth. She was grieving and going through a similar hell, and I think we could relate to one another because we were both going through a loss, but it felt a little less alone. When you lose a baby its incredibly heartbreaking, and even though I was fortunate enough to be surrounded by family, and have amazing friends during this loss I felt completely and utterly alone. I couldn’t relate to anyone, I felt myself angry when I would see others crying, although I knew they were sad for the loss and for us, I just felt angry. Its okay if you’re experiencing a loss and you are angry, this is something I didn’t let myself believe at first. This is something I couldn’t really find online. The first time I got back on social media after our loss I think I hid every person that popped up with a picture of their baby. Which turned out to be a lot of people. I just couldn’t see it or handle it. I was still just angry, which was okay. I felt so guilty for being so angry but I felt like I had been fucking robbed.

Theres a sound that up until May I had only heard twice in my life, I would describe it as a loud sigh, almost a wailing sound. Its the total release and sound of just absolute defeat and heartache. The first time I heard this sound was after my Grandmother passed away, I heard my Mother crying in the other room and I heard her cry and just let out a sigh. The second time in my life I heard this sound was after my Best Friends Fathers funeral,  her Mother was inconsolable and crying and she let out a similar sigh. The third time I heard this sound was May 17th of this year, When I delivered my stillborn Daughter. Its a sound like your body has just given up, like every breath is out and you are just struggling to breathe through it. Through the absolute and total shock and loss. Growing up I felt like I had experienced loss, and heartache. Nothing, and I absolutely mean NOTHING in my life had prepared me for the loss of my Daughter. From the moment I saw the extra line appear on that pregnancy test I loved my baby. Scared to absolute death of the future I knew one thing, I was going to be a Mom and I was going to do my absolute best at it.

May came so quickly and my Dr told me at anytime the baby could come, she was a healthy weight and size. The previous month I had thought I was going into labor but it was just back spasms so we had prepared our plan. We had the car seat ready, the hospital bag packed with her first outfits, blankets and the baby book for her footprints.  We were ready. Her nursery was completely perfect and set up, crib made, clothes washed and hung up and organized, an entire drawer of bows and headbands I was ready for my baby, my Harper Grace.

 

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