A post by a friend of this same daughter took me back to this crystallized moment: Driving through the winter rain to Kindergarten with my oldest daughter and her friend. The friend knew we were expecting a new baby but we had not seen her family over the Christmas holiday as we had gone to Maui. Due to many factors I lost the baby. Miscarried. In Maui.
They are belted in the back seat and we are making our way to the local school. The friend is told we “lost” our baby in Maui. Horrified, she literally screams, “Aren’t you going to try and find her?”. I can still feel the leather of the steering wheel and the feeling that I had. I had to pull over and wipe the tears and have a bit of recovery as I tried to find the words to explain to a 5 year old what losing a baby meant. I always wondered if my daughter and her little brother thought the same thing, that we had misplaced the baby and not looked for her. And what did they tell the Kindergarten class?
Until then I had not understood the trauma of miscarriage. It wasn’t until I attended a candlelight ceremony years and years later with people who had lost a child or miscarried that I was able to put it to rest. They understood the aching emptiness.
I am so sorry. I “lost” a baby that way too. Words can’t describe the heartbreak.
Hugs to al of you, my friend.
Thanks Natalie. I have 4 wonderful offspring so am lucky but it was devastating at the time. Everyone expects strong women to carry on being storng when all you want to do is sit and burble and rage. Thank you for caring.
I’m so sorry for your loss. I’ve always thought that was a strange euphemism – lost the baby – as if I misplaced him or let him slip away, when we would do almost anything to hold on to them if it was in our power.
Thank you Christie. I am glad people are more willing to talk about things like this now. It may help the heartbreak to have people who care.