It is estimated (stats from March of Dimes and WomensHealth.gov) that 1 in 10 women will lose a baby to miscarriage if they know they’re pregnant (other agencies estimate that approximately 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage). 1 in 10 women struggle with infertility. 1 in 160 pregnancies end in stillbirth.
There is so much stigma associated with loss or infertility. We struggle with feelings of inadequacy. We struggle with guilt and wonder what we’ve done wrong. We wonder if God is punishing us for some sin, remembered by us or forgotten.
When I joined the 25% with my loss, I was shocked at the number of women that I know who have experienced loss or infertility. Some I had spoken with about their experiences before I lost Cora, and some I had no idea that they had experienced loss.
Everyone mourns differently. Some people speak, and others don’t. I have chosen to speak, which you might find odd if you know me in real life. I’m an introvert. I’m a pretty private person. But I wanted to share her story. I wanted to acknowledge her existence and share it with the world, so that I didn’t just lost “a baby”. The baby I lost was wanted and had a personality and a name. There are things that I will not share with the world. There are things that I will not speak of, and that you will never see. I am still her mother, and her father and I have decided to keep the pictures we have of her secret. We have other mementos and memories that we will not share, because we don’t feel comfortable with it.
I wanted to speak so that others could feel free to speak. So that a conversation could happen about dealing with loss, about supporting people who have walked through loss. I know that some women don’t want to speak, and I honor that. I know that some do want to speak and don’t feel free to.
I plan on continuing to speak about her life, and am glad to speak about her. For the rest of the month, I want to walk with you all through the emotions that came through my loss and the kind of support I needed and still need after losing her. At first glance, that feels SO selfish to write. But, as I said before, everyone mourns differently; what was good for me might not be good for someone else. I don’t know what someone else may want or need, but I’ll include questions to help you think through how best to support someone you love that’s going through loss, or yourself if you are going through it.
Throughout the month of October, I’m writing a series titled “Hopeful Grief” with a fabulous group of writers, doing the Write31Days challenge. To catch up, or see new posts, click here. Interested in last year’s Write31Days posts? Click here. Know someone that this series may touch? Share as you see fit.
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