The pain of another loss hits home again. Not for me this time, but for someone dear to me.
As we talked today some of the same sentences were said. Sentences I have said to myself, to others about myself, to others in consolation of their own loss.
But as I said them today I heard just how hollow they are. And the pain hit me, hard, in a way I hadn’t expected because I thought I had buried it deep, deep down. No actually I thought, it was a pain that I didn’t have the right to feel.
Today I realised just how wrong I have been.
Miscarriage is not selective, or fair, or for the best, or better because it was early. It’s not okay because you already have a baby, or two, to hold and cuddle and smell their sweetness. It is still loss and it takes a piece of you away with it.
For a couple of years the miscarriages around me were more consuming than the births. Very close friends of mine lost many pregnancies in every circumstance, early, late after announcing it to everyone and daring to be excited. For all of them each loss was another first that was never to be. Not only does the pain of the loss, the dragging disappointment, the pang of missing what will never be hurt like hell, but the overwhelming fear that this is their lot may be even worse. I don’t know, my losses were not my first.
This week as part of Never Forgotten: Mamamia's Pregnancy Loss Awareness Week we're remembering the babies we've lost. Post continues below.
I had a beautiful baby while friends still did not. And as he turned 2 I felt my world start swirling. His birthday was the due date of a baby we never had. But how do you possibly complain about that? You celebrate what you have, you love and laugh and cuddle and delight and you try again.