Today my thoughts keep turning to some friends who lost their first grandbaby early this morning. To save their daughter-in-law's life, doctors had to induce labor at 21 weeks. My friend Gideon, baby Olive's grandpa, wrote a lovely and heartbreaking poem in remembrance (click here to read it).
My own experience with losing a child was not the same as theirs. My life was not in danger. My pregnancy was not far enough along to know whether we were having a boy or a girl. I'd never heard its heartbeat or felt it move in my womb. My baby did not yet have fingers and toes. But today my thoughts keep turning to that time as well. My memories are so clear and the emotions so fresh.
We found out we were expecting just before our first Christmas together in 1990, then I miscarried at about 12 weeks. Being pregnant was harder than I thought it would be on me. When I finally turned a corner, Roger and I went out to dinner. Shortly after we got home, my water broke and I started cramping and bleeding. The doctor advised me to stay as still as possible. We spent a long, tortuous night that ended with a trip to the emergency room in the morning.
I didn't know then that I would never get pregnant again. In the years since, and because I never did give birth to a child, my experience with that short-lived pregnancy became increasingly meaningful.
Because it made me more human.
I tasted the irony of throwing up every day for more than two months, then heading to the kitchen to put something in my stomach to alleviate the hollow feeling that remained. I tasted the uniquely female pain and rhythm of my body instinctively contracting and pushing. I tasted the anguish of fighting to hold on to something I could not keep and did not know what I would do without.
I also tasted the transcendent state of having new life growing inside of me. And because of our shared joy and our shared loss, the bond I had with Roger became stronger than I ever imagined it could be. That tasted so good and still does.
God bless you, my friends.
2 comments:
I heard about baby Olive. My heart breaks for them.
This was a beautifully written post, Margy. Moved me to tears
Beautifully said.
My heart broke when I heard the news, as it does for the pain you experienced. I can't even imagine.
What a tender offering you share here. Thank you.
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