Woman Grieves Over Death of a Baby 35 Years Ago

From Open to Hope: Ask The Authors, December 10, 2008

Tammy writes in with a question: My friend who is 52 is grieving over a baby she lost when she was 17. She has 2 other children, both adults now. But she is suddenly feeling this loss, feeling like she was supposed to have 3 children. Is it possible to grieve this far from the death?

Doris Jeanette, Psy.D., author of Opening the Heart, an emotional guide into feelings and emotions.  responds:

It is not only possible, but helpful, to grieve any loss that has not been fully experienced.  It does not matter how many years ago the original loss occurred.  As a young mother, your friend may not have been able to fully grieve the loss. She may have blamed herself and as a result shut off her feelings and emotions. Now she may be ready to feel the loss and express her emotions. This is wonderful. You can be a helpful friend by supporting her in expressing her feelings and emotions in healthy ways. You can also encourage her to seek professional help, if needed.  She will be a stronger and healthier person after she processes the loss of her child. Opening the heart is a life-long process and how it unfolds is how it unfolds. Honor her and her healing process.

Tom Zuba, author, inspirational speaker, and workshop facilitator, responds:

Yes, it is possible to grieve many years after a death has occurred. 

Many of us think, and probably secretly hope, that grief has a limited shelf life.  I don’t believe that’s true.  It certainly hasn’t been my experience.  I think we’ll always be grieving the great losses of our life, and the death of your friend’s baby when she was only 17 is certainly a great loss.  Often the grief changes though.  For many, it softens and the underlying love we feel for the person who has died rises to the surface quicker.  The pain is not as intense nor does it last as long as it once did. But I think we will always experience moments of grief.  It’s one of the ways we stay connected. 

I believe that the relationship we have with a loved one, and certainly with our children, continues even after they die.  It’s up to us to determine if that relationship will be healthy or unhealthy. 

I’d like to suggest to you that your friend does indeed still have three children.  One happened to die as a baby.  But your friend is still that child’s mother.  Nothing can change that.  Now that her other two children have grown and are perhaps out of the house, there may be some space available for the grief that is rooted in the baby’s death to rise up.  It sounds like that may be happening.  It’s healthy and brings with it great opportunity for growth.

I hope you will accompany your friend as she feels every feeling and emotion that rises to the surface - emotions and feelings that may have been stuffed deep for a long time.  Perhaps you can encourage her to examine and maybe even redefine the relationship she has with her child that died.  Does she have a picture of that baby displayed in a special place in her home?  Does she honor her baby’s birth in a unique way? 

She might consider writing a letter to the baby.  What would she like this baby to know?  Or she might find comfort in writing a letter to herself from the baby.  If the baby could talk to her mom, all these years later, what would the baby say?  If your friend celebrates Christmas, she could buy a special ornament this year in memory of her baby.  This could become her annual tradition.

The relationship continues.  It’s worth taking the time to make sure it’s a healthy one.

Growing Together

By Chuck and Cathi Lammert -

Over the many years of working with bereaved parents, my husband, Chuck and I have had many questions asked of us about coping and growing together as a couple after the loss of one’s baby(ies). Interestingly, when we were running support groups, many women in the group would line up to ask Chuck more questions about their partner’s issues than their own dealings with the loss. It is common in relationships to have a need to understand and attempt to fix the other person. One of the biggest worries after the death of a baby is the fear of separation or divorce. I can honestly say those couples we supported who truly worked on their grief issues were less likely to face this challenge.

Following are some suggestions for dealing with your own issues, and solid advice for a couple’s dealings on this difficult journey. Chuck and I hope that by sharing these coping strategies, we might help your relationship not only survive this tragedy, but become stronger and happier.

• Your relationship as a couple is the most important relationship. Let it take precedence over all others.

• When a baby dies, the grief affects both of you at the same time. Other stresses in a relationship usually do not impact both individuals simultaneously. Therefore, your closest support is not always able to respond to you because he/she is trying to cope with his/her own grief.

• Each person in the relationship will grieve in individual ways. Learning to understand your partner’s ways may take some time and may be difficult.

• Sometimes words are not needed; just your listening ear may help.

• Difficulties may arise in the best of relationships. This may be the first time you may struggle with major differences of opinions. Keep working at communicating your emotional and physical needs.

• Your partner does not have to be your sole supporter. It is OK to share with someone close to you or a support group during this difficult time.

• Reading bereavement materials may help validate your feelings. In addition, you can point out in your reading, your parallel feelings to your partner. It is also a great source to initiate a discussion.

• It is OK to reach out for professional help, it is not a sign of weakness.

• There may be stresses on your sexual relationship. Communicate your intimate feelings openly. Remember, human touch and hugs can be healing.

• Each of you may need some privacy with your feelings. Respect and give each other that space.

• You may feel differently about the choices regarding memorializing your child. Talk about your differences and try to work out a compromise.

• Each of you experienced the death of your baby but you may have had different hopes and dreams for your baby. Sharing your lost dreams can give you some insight into each other’s feelings.

• You are not the same person you were before your baby died. It may take time to accept and understand the new person.

• Each of you will search for a meaning of your loss; one or both may turn to faith or spirituality, one or both may not.

• Your baby has given you many gifts, exploring those gifts may warm your heart. Your priorities in life may change for the better.

• It is okay to enjoy life again. Your baby does not expect you to be sad all of the time. Sharing laughter and tears together helps you to heal. Search for some relaxing things to do; it may help give you a new perspective.

• This is a difficult time for both of you. Remember that if your relationship was secure prior to your loss, it can become a deeper relationship during and after your healing.

Cathi Lammert, R.N., is Executive Director of the National Office of SHARE Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support, Inc. www.nationalshare.org.  As a bereaved parent, Cathi combines her personal experience with her education and professional background as an obstetrical nurse. Her son, Christopher Michael lived just 4 days and died due to Hydrops Fetalis, a complication of Rh sensitization.  Cathi was a guest on the radio show Healing the Grieving Heart with Dr. Gloria & Dr. Heidi Horsley, to discuss Finding Help and Hope After Pregnancy Loss.  To hear Cathi being interviewed on this show, click on the following link:  www.voiceamericapd.com/health/010157/horsley011509.mp3 

For more information, you can e-mail Cathi at:  clammert@nationalshare.org

‘Don’t Ever Doubt You Are a Mother’

By Nina Bennett -

In a monumental moment of synchronicity, I was present the night my beloved granddaughter was born still. She slid into this world without drawing a breath, following a full-term, healthy pregnancy and normal, though long, labor. In a poignant moment, Jennifer, my daughter-in-law, looked at me and quietly asked, “So am I a mother or aren’t I?” With her question, my heart broke all over again. Later, Jenn told me how she resented not having the chance to parent her daughter.

Oh, but Jenn, you did parent your daughter. Not in the way you dreamed of, certainly. The act of parenting involves nurturing your child and tending to her needs.

Your daughter received unconditional love from the very first moment. You tended to her needs throughout your pregnancy. You carefully researched your prenatal care options, choosing a practice with nurse midwives because of their philosophy toward pregnancy and birth. You were actively involved in your pregnancy, taking yoga classes to deal with stress and physical discomforts. You read everything you could get your hands on about fetal development. You paid attention to your changing body and respected the fact that these changes were in response to your baby’s growth. A vegetarian, you were vigilant about ensuring that your baby received the proper nutrients for her development.

Together, you and Tim selected the birthing suite where you wanted to welcome your child. The plans for the birth were made with love. Every step of the way, each decision you made was based on love and concern for your baby-the absolute hallmarks of parenting. You chose a car seat after examining safety ratings. The furniture you selected for the nursery was not only lovely, it was useful-the crib would convert into a single bed, so the furniture would transition as your child grew older. In every decision you made, your baby came first.

I believe that the ultimate goal of parenting is to prepare your child to leave the protection of her home. While we never expected this to occur in the manner it did, you accomplished this with an amazing show of grace. As she left your body you touched her, not knowing that the guidance you were providing was all the guidance she would ever need.

Maddy knew the certainty and warmth of unconditional love throughout your pregnancy with her. Your daughter knew the intensity and depth of your love during her delivery and for the hours afterward, when you held and rocked and talked to her.  Although the atmosphere of serenity you had planned was temporarily abandoned when it was discovered that Maddy had no heartbeat, the quiet and dignity you desired returned once the medical necessities were completed.

Please don’t ever doubt that you are a mother. You are a mother in the truest, most selfless sense. Bereft, yes, but truly a mother. Your arms may be empty but your heart is overflowing. The love you have for your daughter lives on in your actions and your determination that she not be forgotten. You approach relationships with increased warmth and a heightened sense of connection.  So much was taken from you on November 12, 2003, but one fact will never change - forever and always, you will be Maddy’s Mommy.

© copyright 2006 Nina Bennett

Death of a Child: ‘Unfinished Motherhood’

By Clara Hinton -

When child-loss occurs, a mother goes through a difficult time of emotional turmoil and questioning. “Am I still a mother?” “Does my child still have a birthday each year, or does time stand still?” “Can the mother/child relationship continue to grow, or am I now an ‘unfinished mother’?”

Losing a child often places a mother on a road that begins a lonelier journey than ever expected-one that can never really be explained. There was a beginning, but with the death of the child, there is no middle and no end. Everything seems so unfinished. Hopes and dreams were stopped far too soon. Joy was snatched away so suddenly. A mother is left with empty arms and an empty heart. Nothing can ever be complete when a child’s life ends.

When the death of a child occurs, a mother may suddenly feel inadequate and incomplete. She wears a new name. She may feel an “unfinished mother,” never being able to see the rest of the picture. She will never be able to watch her child mature into a young adult. She will never be able to see all the pieces fit together. The picture will always have part of the scenery missing. It is so painful to be an unfinished mother! Child loss makes everything seem so empty and incomplete.

There will come a critical point in this journey of grief when a mother must reach deep into her inner resources and make a conscious decision to accept herself just as she is-a mother whose heart has been touched by the pain and grief of child-loss. Only then can she start to put together some of the broken pieces and begin to feel like there will be a day when she will feel more like a complete mother than an unfinished mother.

A mother is never “unfinished.” No matter how brief her time was with her child, the bond of love between mother and child was complete. A mother’s love for her child is unending. Dreams may shatter and circumstances may change, but a mother’s love remains strong. As a mother travels the path to healing, it is important for her to remind herself often that she is a mother forever. Her motherhood did not stop when her child died. This understanding of motherhood releases the feelings of guilt and failure and allows a mother to begin to see herself as a whole person again-a complete mother.

A mother is never an “unfinished mother.” A mother’s love runs far too deep for that!

While experiencing the blessing of living children, Clara has also felt the pain of losing six children due to miscarriage, and has delivered one stillborn son.  Knowing the grief of child loss first-hand prompted Clara to write a book, Silent Grief, as well as begin a grief support website, www.silentgrief.com, for parents seeking support while going through the pain of loss. Contact Clara at chinton@wpia.net or visit the Silent Grief website.

Suggestions for a Well-Deserved Mother’s and Father’s Day

By Cathi Lammert -

Often times Mother’s Day and Father’s Day are two of the most difficult days for bereaved parents. Some have told me that these days are so painful that they are not able to even acknowledge it for their own mom or dad, and they celebrate with their parents on a different day. Over the years, parents have looked at me with tear-filled eyes and asked me “Am I really a parent if my baby is not here with me?”

I equate parenthood with love; the greatest kind of love. Does love stop when a baby dies? Of course not! You will always be your child/ren’s parent. No one can take this role away from you.

You may question whether you have the right to celebrate or be remembered on these days, but a parent’s love needs to be acknowledged and celebrated. If you can’t imagine joining the rest of the world in the typical activities of celebration, do something different or not at all. But also know, that even without your precious baby in your arms, you are parents and parenthood can be celebrated as you choose. Whatever you choose to do on these days, know that it is okay if it feels right to you.

The following suggestions are some ways to celebrate your parenthood on these difficult days:

* Acknowledge that you are parents.

* Be gentle with yourselves. Do only what you can handle. 

*Acknowledge that this day could be difficult and determine how you can comfortably spend the day.

*Alert yourself to the most difficult challenges of the day, such as attention given to moms and dads at church. Some parents have talked to their clergy about the importance of recognizing all parents at these celebrations.

*Family gatherings may make you feel uncomfortable. Discuss this with your family and let them know that you appreciate their love and support, but that you may not be able to attend or manage your composure throughout the entire day. Assure them that these feelings will not be forever.

*Plan ahead. Waiting until the last minute can cause frustration and hurt feelings.

*Share with family and friends how they can help make your day a special one. Sometimes they need specific suggestions, such as sending you a card, flowers, or a donation to Share or another favorite charity in your baby’s name.

*Treat yourselves to a special gift, an outing, or flowers. Send each other cards for these special days.

*Remember your baby by lighting a candle, placing a rose on the alter or dinner table, or planting a tree or bush.

It is important to tell others what you need. Do not assume that everyone will be aware of how you are feeling on these days. Being aware in advance that certain situations may be difficult, such as family gatherings or church services, allows you the opportunity to plan accordingly. If you’ve been asked to do something that makes you uncomfortable, listen to your heart. For some, spending the day in bed with the covers pulled up, or on the couch watching movies, might be the right thing. Be sensitive to your own feelings and needs, and above all, know that you are parents.

Cathi Lammert, R.N., is Executive Director of the National Office of SHARE Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support, Inc. www.nationalshare.org.  As a bereaved parent, Cathi combines her personal experience with her education and professional background as an obstetrical nurse. Her son, Christopher Michael lived just 4 days and died due to Hydrops Fetalis, a complication of Rh sensitization.  Cathi was a guest on the radio show Healing the Grieving Heart with Dr. Gloria & Dr. Heidi Horsley, to discuss Finding Help and Hope After Pregnancy Loss.  To hear Cathi being interviewed on this show, click on the following link:  www.voiceamericapd.com/health/010157/horsley011509.mp3  For more information, you can e-mail Cathi at:  clammert@nationalshare.org

Mother’s Day Flowers

By Beth Seyda -

It was back in 1998 that I was finally eligible to celebrate my first Mother’s Day.  Our first child, Dylan, had been born in the fall of 1997 after many years of fertility issues.  But when that May holiday came around, one that I had longed to be a part of, it was a bitter-sweet day.  Yes, I was a mother, but now without a child.  Our sweet baby lived for only two weeks in the neonatal intensive care unit and died peacefully in our arms. 

I struggled that first Mother’s Day - I wanted to celebrate, I had been so happy being a mom to Dylan while I was pregnant with him and during his brief life.  I wanted to honor our mother-son relationship, even though the pain from the loss was still palpable. 

I recalled how others had supported us and what I found comforting.  Family and friends had given us numerous plants, bushes, and flowers in memory of Dylan which were growing outside in our front and back yards.  It’s an understatement that I do not have a green thumb, so I welcomed the beautiful daffodils, crocus, azalea and butterfly bushes that were now blooming.  I loved being outdoors and admiring Mother Nature’s miracles.  With Dylan’s birth and death occurring only weeks from each other, being reminded of the circle of life connected with me.

So, on my first Mother’s Day I started what has become an annual ritual: planting flowers (usually hardy geraniums) in clay pots that adorn our back deck.  Getting my hands into the dirt and helping these flowers take root and thrive continue to be healing as I reflect upon how Dylan nourished my soul and helped me become a mom. 

There were many tears as I planted flowers those first Mother’s Days.  But it always brought me such joy to see the fruits of my labors as the spring unfolded into summer and fall, and as I watched hummingbirds gather nectar from these flowers. 

Now, many years later and mother to 7-year old Tyler, this Mother’s Day I will once again be out on our deck planting flowers - proudly and gratefully remembering all our children. 

Beth Seyda’s life was transformed in 1997 with the birth and death of her critically ill newborn son, Dylan.  She combines her 25+ years of professional experience in consumer research with her personal experience as Co-Founder and Executive Director of Compassionate Passages, Inc. The mission of her non-profit organization is to give a voice to pediatric patients and their families through advocacy, education, and research with the goal of improving pediatric end-of-life care and providing support to dying children and their families.  Compassionate Passages donates the book Empty Cradle, Broken Heart: Surviving the Death of Your Baby to bereaved families. 

Beth lives in Chapel Hill, N.C., with her husband, Mark, and their 7-year old son, Tyler.  To learn more about Beth’s non-profit organization, go to: www.compassionatepassages.org

Little People with Big Hurts

By Cathi Lammert, RN -

Most children who have a sibling that dies due to a pregnancy loss, stillbirth or in the first few months of life will experience a grief reaction.  However, often times, their grief is overlooked or discounted. Parents may be so overwhelmed by their own grief that they are unable to assist their children with their issues. Parents often ask me “Will my child be negatively affected by the death of their baby sibling?”  I have to say the answer to this question is, “Usually not, if the child’s grief is acknowledged.” In this article, I hope to provide some direction in ways to assist little people with their big hurts and ways to validate their feelings.

In Helping Children Cope with the Unexplained Death of Infant, the author, Dr. Charles Corr, outlines four basic psychological tasks that comfort grieving youngsters. These include:  Understanding what has happened, identifying and validating their feelings, commemorating the life of the sibling(s) who died, and learning to live and love again.¹ In the following paragraphs, I will address each of these tasks and provide insight and direction from my own experiences. In assisting with the difficult journey of grieving, one should note that a child’s personality, past life experiences, developmental stage, and past reactions to loss will affect his/her reaction to the death of a sibling.

Understanding What Has Happened

Very young children ages two and under do not fully understand what has happened, but they are aware of a change in their parent’s behavior.  Children sense that their lives have changed dramatically, and they may become irritable or clingy. Sometimes parents may not have the energy to meet the many emotional and physical demands of their little ones during the demands of their own intense grief. It is important to try to maintain a normal routine even if it requires the assistance of family and friends with the child’s care.

Preschool children need to have things explained in very concrete terms. We need to be careful with our words; children become confused with statements that are not literally clear, for instance things such as “the baby is sleeping with God.” This statement may cause them to be fearful of sleep and of God.  Also, children of this age do not understand the finality of death and think heaven is a place one can visit temporarily and that the baby is coming back after a while.  Parents may become frustrated as children have repeated questions.  Often simple answers will suffice as children do not want detailed explanations. As the child matures, he/she will have a better concept of death.

School-age children are often frightened by death. They may have fears of sleeping alone or being apart from their family. They may need extra reassurances and more time with you.  Also, children of this age are very curious. Of course, this means they ask many questions and want more detailed explanations. All questions need to be answered and if we as parents do not respond to these questions, their peers will. Other children’s explanations may confuse and upset them even more.

Identifying and Validating Feelings

Parents have shared with me their concern about their preschooler because he or she is sad one minute and happy the next. Preschoolers grieve in spurts and the intensity is not as great as that of an older child. Often, children of this age will act out their feelings through their play. This is very therapeutic and is a way for them to positively release their feelings. Like adults, children respond to grief in many different ways. They may act out their anger by being destructive. It is important to acknowledge this anger and frustration so they can move past it. It can be helpful for them to have a punching bag or pillow to release those feelings. It is also important to have conversations about the loss your family has experienced and how your child has responded to the death with the child’s teachers, coaches, scout masters, and other caregivers. It is helpful to also give these individuals some bereavement literature on ways to help children with the death of a baby.

Commemorating the Life of the Sibling(s) Who Died

A large number of people in our society believe children should not be exposed to death. Parents often are not sure if they should include their child/ren at the time of loss, at the funeral or in the commemorating in the years to come. Parents know   their children better than anyone so these decisions are very personal and what is right for one many not feel right for another.

The parents of children who experience early pregnancy loss may find it more difficult to commemorate this life as often the only tangible evidence they have is an ultrasound picture.  Some commemorative ideas that families experiencing early losses have used are organizing a memorial service at their church, participating in a quarterly group burial service, or having a private intimate service with their family. Others have planted a tree or designed a garden.  Some families find connecting to a specific object such as a teddy bear or a piece of jewelry for themselves and the children is meaningful.

When there is a funeral and a viewing of the baby, sometimes parents are not sure about how to involve the children. The child may or may not have seen the baby at the hospital.  Talking to them about the choice and informing them what to expect at the viewing and the funeral helps the child and parent make a decision.  Some children may come to just the viewing and not the funeral and some want to be a part of the entire ritual. It is always helpful to have someone there to support the child/ren in case the parents need to leave.

Most children love to draw, color or write poems or letters.  Giving them the opportunity to create a special picture or letter to place in the casket may bring them comfort. Children loved to have their own keepsakes and may find having a special stuffed animal, piece of jewelry, baby’s handprints or footprints, and/or baby’s picture quite helpful. This connection to the baby may be a treasure for years to come.

Annual memorial services or walks held by support groups are a wonderful way to involve children. Sometimes at the time of the loss, the children may not have been a part of the initial ritual. Group memorials are opportunities to share with other bereaved families and a means to positively remember their baby.  This may be the first time a child has had an opportunity to remember their sibling.  At memorial services, children as well as parents can participate by writing a message on their balloon and releasing it, placing a holiday ornament on a tree or lighting their own candle.  

Lastly, family rituals such as placing flowers on the grave, releasing balloons, lighting candles, planting special plants etc in honor of the baby on birthdays, anniversaries, and other difficult days can be helpful. Some families have found planning something special with their children during those remembrance days such as an outing to movie, dinner or even a day trip is a positive means of healing with their family.   

Learning to Live and Love Again

Children will not forget their experience of having a baby brother or sister die.  However, they will be able to lead productive, wonderful lives if given permission to openly mourn and have their feelings validated. They need support and understanding of their grief in order to be able to integrate this loss into their lives.  As they move through each developmental stage, new questions may be asked, and they may need more in-depth answers.  This does not mean they are regressing, but rather they are maturing and need to clarify some issues in their hearts and minds. Some children adjust to this loss easier and others need extra help with a support group or therapist. 

In closing, your children are often your greatest source of comfort. Their openness and non-judgmental attitudes may allow you to express yourself and give permission to talk about your baby.  Bereaved children have learned about grief at often a very young age. However, often with a grief experience, growth does occur and gifts such as compassion and kindness follow. These may be the best of many gifts their brother or sister has left them.

¹Charles Corr, PhD., Building Blocks:  Helping Children Cope with the Sudden and Unexplained Death of an Infant, (SIDS Resources, Inc. Missouri Department of Health, Division of Administration, P.O. Box 570, Jefferson City, MO)

Sharing Newsletter: Volume 18, Issue 1; National Share Office, www.nationalshare.org

Cathi Lammert, R.N., is Executive Director of the National Office of SHARE Pregnancy and Infant Loss Support, Inc. www.nationalshare.org.  As a bereaved parent, Cathi combines her personal experience with her education and professional background as an obstetrical nurse. Her son, Christopher Michael lived just 4 days and died due to Hydrops Fetalis, a complication of Rh sensitization.  Cathi was a guest on the radio show Healing the Grieving Heart with Dr. Gloria & Dr. Heidi Horsley, to discuss Finding Help and Hope After Pregnancy Loss.  To hear Cathi being interviewed on this show, click on the following link:  www.voiceamericapd.com/health/010157/horsley011509.mp3  For more information, you can e-mail Cathi at:  clammert@nationalshare.org

When a Miscarriage Occurs After Fertility Treatments

By Kira Copperman, LMSW -

Being a patient at a fertility clinic brings moments of anxiety, hope, excitement, fear, and stress.  The time and effort to become pregnant can feel like an emotional roller coaster and certainly a different route to conception than one may have imagined.  A Harvard Medical School study showed that patients going through fertility treatments experience comparable levels of stress to patients who are going through treatment for cancer and heart disease.

This is no surprise as patients experience the daily, weekly, sometimes hourly ups and downs as they are progressing through their treatment. The focus of all of these treatments leads up to the day the pregnancy test is taken.  Many couples use up their financial, emotional and physical resources to go through treatment and they have a tremendous amount riding on the hope that their pregnancy test will be positive and that their journey was a success.

Regrettably, approximately 30 percent of all pregnancies (including fertility patients) result in a miscarriage, and being prepared to handle this type of loss is nearly impossible.  After going through all the treatments to conceive a child, finding out that the whole process did not succeed in an ongoing pregnancy can result in a complex grieving process.

The feelings of grief may extend beyond the loss of the pregnancy to thoughts that the dream of having a family has been shattered, the loss of trust in how your body works, the feelings of being inadequate as a woman or couple.  It may involve questioning oneself, ones’ worth; it may result in feelings of guilt and shame. If it was an early miscarriage, your feelings might be minimized or invalidated or not understood by the people you turn to for support.  Because of the nature of the loss, some friends and family may not have even known that you were pregnant, which brings on additional considerations.

Women or couples who have experienced a miscarriage and are grieving need to experience their feelings for themselves and seek the help and support that will work for them when they are ready.  There is no right way to feel, no right way to think, no right way to behave. There is no correct length of time to wait before you think about trying again, no prescription for what to do or say after you experience a miscarriage.

There are many ways to get support if that is what you feel you need.  It has been shown that women who experience a miscarriage find the most support from other women who have also miscarried.  That shared bond can allow women and couples to learn how others have coped and to continue their way through their complicated feelings.

There is also an organization called RESOLVE that runs support groups locally for women who have miscarried.  Many hospitals and healthcare centers also run support groups for women who have miscarried.  There are websites, books, blogs, chat rooms, therapists, (see below) designed to provide outlets for you to express your feelings and to bond with others who have had similar experiences.

Miscarriage Resources

www.resolve.org      www.hopexchange.com

www.silentgrief.com      www.miscarriagehelp.com

Kira B. Copperman, LMSW, is the President of KBC Consulting www.kbcconsult.com, a boutique healthcare consulting firm that specializes in helping physicians, dentists and hospitals improve their frontline customer service. Prior to KBC Consulting, she was the Practice Manager for a large fertility center in Manhattan entitled Reproductive Medicine Associates of New York (RMA of New York).  While at RMA of New York, her experience with patients dealing with the emotional side effects that can accompany infertility had a profoud effect on her and was one of the main reasons she created KBC Consulting. Ms. Copperman is also a published author and presenter on topics relating to healthcare.

Horror of Pregnancy Loss Inspires Mother to Grow

By Suzanne Schafer -

My husband and I lost a baby during the middle of my pregnancy. From the first moment the doctor told me, with a deep, pained look on his face, that our baby had passed away, I felt grave sorrow in my heart which surged down to my core.

Shortly after this shattering moment, the doctor informed us that the safest way to remove our baby was to go to an abortion clinic. As those words slipped from his lips, my heart seized and my body gasped for air. The alternatives, he explained, were too dangerous and I had to think of my two small children and my husband.

As I found a small gulp of air, I reluctantly agreed, even as I sobbed from the bellows of my heart. I sat in a parked car and I began to scream, grabbing hold of my stomach, aching, wanting to feel his feet moving just once more. I began asking myself, “How could this be?” I frantically retraced all the events that had led up to this moment, searching for some reason or explanation. In this time of crisis, I wanted desperately to place blame and find a reason for my pain.

But it soon became apparent that sometimes there is no obvious reason. The truth within this situation laid somewhere in front of me.  

During this tragedy, I was in such a deep state of grief and shock that I began to witness myself and the events around me as if I were watching a movie in which I had been cast in the lead role. In the upcoming days, the intense physical and emotional pain I felt caused me to retreat from the outside world.  I found refuge in my bedroom. I hid from my husband, my family, my children and my friends; even though, all of them certainly reached out trying to ease my pain.

I went in and out of deep meditation trying to find the strength to endure the greatest juxtaposition I had yet to face in my life: finding myself in the presence of those choosing to end the potential life of a baby, while having no choice but to say good-bye to a child I had wanted to so deeply. The anger and sadness I felt was so intense, I became despondent and disconnected from what I had known as my life; and the roles I played no longer seemed to define me. I was no longer a mother, wife, daughter, friend, sister, designer or business owner. All of these roles just seemed to disappear.  All I could focus on and all I could be, was in the moment.

I was completely immobilized physically, emotionally, mentally and spiritually. During this moment, I was in a juxtaposition between shock and hyper awareness which lead me into a witnessing state. In this moment, I had an inner-knowing that in the days to come I would be asked to look beyond myself and my immediate situation and once and for all break free of the past accumulation of pains and dramas which had hijacked my life over and over again.  

As I walked into the abortion clinic, I was profoundly aware of the opposing forces of life and death. While I waited to be called for my pre-op appointment, I began to witness myself slip further into a state of deep sadness and shock.

I went through the motions for the pre-surgery procedures - a two-day procedure.  Through it all, I kept whispering to myself, “This must be happening for a reason.”  In an attempt to distance myself from my own pain, I tried in desperation to witness all that was around me. The energy in the room was filled with utter anxiety, sadness, and chaos. I thought about my husband and the way this tragedy seemed to be pushing him closer and closer to the edge. I could sense his pain and discomfort with not knowing how to support me. 

I started to realize that we all had our own story. Everyone in the waiting room was not just there to end an unwanted pregnancy. They each had their own story that led them to this horrible place.  In this state of witnessing, I watched as everyone’s tale started to unravel around me. I truly realized my story was different but my pain was no different from the pain all of these women felt. It was not just about me; it was about us. 

I made it through the initial appointment, and left the clinic feeling more and more uncertain, as if a piece of my soul was being ripped from my very being.  The universality of our loss was being pushed into my face and my soul was yearning to understand this sorrow.  

Early the next morning, I arrived at the clinic. I slowly walked in the door, leaving my husband behind. This wasn’t my first miscarriage; two years prior, I lost another child at the end of the first trimester.  Because I was early on in that pregnancy, I was able to go to the hospital, where an ever-present, compassionate staff coddled and supported me.

The atmosphere at the abortion clinic, however, was drastically different.  You do everything yourself, you get dressed in a freezing room and wait in an open waiting area with other women. I was sitting silently in this waiting room when I heard the sound of shackles being dragged across the floor. Yes, shackles. I wanted to laugh and cry. Who wears shackles to an abortion clinic? Then, I heard police on walkie talkies: “The prisoner is here,” they confirmed to one another.

Suddenly, the circumstances I found myself in seemed utterly absurd, pushing me into fits of uncontrollable laughter. How could this really be happening?   In full acceptance that this was part of my story, I said from within, “You have got to be kidding me. I think I am going to lose it.”  

Just then, another woman is escorted into the waiting room, and takes a seat across from me. I recognized her as the woman who spent most of yesterday yelling at her boyfriend. I assumed she was terminating her pregnancy because she did not want to have a child. Then she told me her story. Although I was in a state of grief, I never felt such compassion. She had to do something I could never do; if she did not choose to end her pregnancy, she would not survive.

She was so strong and yet shaken at the same time. I sat there wanting to just be there for her and take away the pain, when I realized that I had assumed and judged her without knowing her story. I was no different than the picketers outside of this clinic.  Just as my husband’s words and gestures were of no comfort to me, I realized nothing I could say or do would ease her pain because words can not comfort any of us in times of desperation; it is time that will slowly ease the pain.  

Finally, my name is called.  I walk into the surgery room where I am met with the words, “Get up on the surgery table and put your feet in the stirrups.” I climb up and pull myself into the right position, feeling like a prisoner myself.  A few moments later, the surgeon arrived, a mood of anxiety and detachment looming overhead. His hair smelled like stale tobacco and his mood fell somewhere between anxious and a detached despondence from his own life and spirit.  

They slowly put me under and when it was over, they rolled me into a recovery room where ten girls lay in beds side by side. The doctor came over to check on me and I asked, “Did you see my baby?” He could not even look me in the eyes or show one ounce of regard for me or my situation.  He quickly turned his head and mumbled, “No.”  I laid there feeling empty.  I then appeased myself with a reminder that the worst was over and I could finally start to cry, weep, and heal.

Moments later, my prisoner friend is rolled in to the recovery room. She shoots me a look that seems to say, “I’ve been through this before,” and then begins to tell me her story. She stayed in prison two weeks longer than her prison sentence, she explained, so she could have the state prison pay for her second trimester termination of her pregnancy.

I really did not know what to say. I tried to wrap my mind around the social and spiritual implications of her choice.  She was detached from life and from spirit. As I lay there, the director of the clinic walks up and I begin to cry.  In an admonishing tone, she says, “Finally, you show some emotion; you are stoic.”  I just looked at her and said nothing. I rolled over on my cot until it was time to go to the next room. 

She finally takes me and my new friend to the other room. The prisoner then turns to me and says, “How old was your baby?”  I look at her and reply, “My baby was dead.”  She looks horrified and for a brief moment, I could feel her compassion and sense of my loss. She replied, “Oh.” The pain she felt for that brief moment pierced my heart. I was not able to even imagine what I could say to bring her peace. I just whispered, “It is okay.”

It took me a long time to completely process these series of events.  The deep sorrow felt so familiar to the deep wounds which struck my heart in a distant past. I reminded myself that in sorrow you can find joy.  

Later, as I lay in my own bed recovering from the surgery, I yearned to feel freedom again. I began to surrender to the idea of being present in this moment and to allow myself to finally grieve all that I had been through. I needed to say good-bye and embrace the bigger meaning behind my life. I was finally ready to raise my white flag and scream, “UNCLE!”  With a deep sigh, I slipped into meditation and with gratitude agreed to find a way to heal my wounds and find my eternal peace.  

In a subconscious and slightly conscious state, I knew all of this had happened for a reason. I would sing over and over in my head, “You can’t always have what you want, but sometimes you get just what you need.” This had become my theme song over the past seven years.  I was beaten down and ready to move on. This was yet another life experience which I would use as a tool, a tool to help others have the hope and belief they can move beyond their current state of living and experiencing.

Now, when anyone tells me they are going through a difficult time, I see it differently. I can be in a place of acceptance, compassion and love. I actually get excited for them knowing that they too are being asked to expand their awareness.  

During the days and weeks that followed the procedure, I started to revisit all the highs and lows I experienced in the past several years. I began to reassure myself that I could make it through one more incident. At night, when the sadness lay heavy in my heart, I would whisper to myself, “You can do it. You have survived before and you will survive again.”  

My husband and I had made it through cancer, depression, illness, loss of close friends and family and another baby all within the past seven years; we could make it through this too. When I sat in that sterile office feeling the loss of not only my baby but my identity as well, I realized that the greatest obstacle I faced was finally healing. I reflected on seeing my baby one last time during the pre-op ultrasound and realized how in that moment I began to surrender to the idea of healing.

I knew that I was being asked to grow from this because I had internalized so much loss in the past; I had built a stone fortress around part of my heart and soul. I knew I was being asked to grow from this moment and finally move on from all that held me in deep bondage and servitude. I would finally allow myself to surrender.    

Suzanne Schafer has just finished writing her first book, Bare Naked Bliss. She is currently working on a children’s book of poetry-inspired by her two lyrical children and a book on Self Intimacy. In Fall 2008, she launched her internet radio show on www.lifestyleyak.com. To learn more about Suzanne and her work, go to http://www.suzannetoro.com.

What Makes Pregnancy Losses Unique

by Irv Leon, Ph.D. -  

People who suffer miscarriages and stillbirths grieve over a baby they do not know.  Understanding how these losses are different from other losses helps to appreciate the distinct way they are mourned. Here are several ways that pregnancy loss is unique.

1.  It can feel less real.  

When you grieve, you typically recall the beloved with longing memories -  his/her voice, face, treasured interactions.  With pregnancy loss, there are no such memories to grieve.  There is silence and blankness instead.  This is why it is usually helpful after a stillbirth to see the baby you grew to love during your pregnancy, to get to know her or him as a real person, as a daughter or son.  Even if you are unable to (or choose not to) see, hold, and touch your baby, having pictures or mementos can be another way of concretizing and identifying who was lost.

2.  Sometimes it’s losing a baby; sometimes it’s not.  For many women and their partners, miscarriage is a confusing, anxiety-provoking event.  Unlike a stillbirth, there usually is no body to see, and the pregnancy may not have gotten far enough along to be felt as a baby.  What was lost?  For some, it was a baby, especially if viewed earlier in ultrasound.  For others, it is felt as a blow to a woman’s maternal creativity.  Or perhaps it is a profound disappointment.  Sorting out what was lost can help determine the personal meanings of a miscarriage.

3.  It injures the self and self-esteem.  More so for women than for men, pregnancy loss is an assault upon the self.  It feels as if your body has failed.  Reproducing has intimations of immortality.  It is becoming a co-creator with God.  For many women, depressed feelings following these losses may be as much a result of feeling terrible about oneself as missing one’s baby.  Finding other avenues of feeling proud of yourself may help to alleviate diminished self-worth. 

4.  It revives other losses and hurts.  Not uncommonly, we name our children after someone who has died, in his or her memory.  Conversely, when a baby dies, it may revive the intensity of a prior loss - a parent or some other important figure in one’s life.  When grieving a pregnancy loss persists without relief for longer than a year, an earlier loss or trauma is often involved as well.

5.  It interferes with normal development.  For many people, the goal of having children is not only to love the child but to gain the adult status of parenthood as well.  Pregnancy loss often causes feelings of being left out and stagnating as one’s friends, siblings, co-workers are having children.  This often makes it intolerable to be around other pregnant women or families with babies.

6.  Others don’t understand. Many people don’t realize how profound a loss this can be.  Others may be uncomfortable with loss in general.  Even well-intentioned people say hurtful things-”You’ve been in the dumps for two weeks.  Get over it already!” “You can always have another baby.” “It was meant to be.”  Sometimes it may be useful to tell the offending person he may be well-meaning, but it doesn’t help to hear that.  If he or she is capable of listening, it may be possible to explain what the loss does mean to you.

7.  It is more difficult to end.  Most losses entail grieving relationships rooted in the past.  Pregnancy loss almost entirely grieves what will be lost in the future.  So grief is intensified on particular anniversaries, especially the due date, or special holidays or experiences you hoped to share with your baby.  Even after the intense grief over pregnancy loss has subsided, there may always be events that trigger the everlasting loss of this baby. 

Irv Leon is a psychologist who has worked for more than 20 years with reproductive loss, adoption, and bereavement. He is author of When a Baby Dies: Psychotherapy for Pregnancy and Newborn Loss (Yale University Press, 1990.) Reach him at irv.leon@prodigy.net.

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