Dedicated to Jake (Miscarriage in general)

Member Name: Squiggles

Product:	Miscarriage in general
Date:	08/07/01 (133 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: None

Disadvantages: Pain, loss, grief and more

I lost a baby 15 months ago, and it was one of the most painful and soul-destroying things I have ever had to go through. In my case, I didn’t even realise I was pregnant until the miscarriage itself, so I had two major traumas to get through, the coming to terms with being pregnant, and dealing with the loss of a baby I’d have loved more than life itself.

We weren’t trying for a baby, in fact my husband was (and still is) determined he never wants to become a father. So we were always very careful, took all precautions, but ‘accidents’ do happen.

The miscarriage itself took just a few terrifying hours, severe stomach cramps and extensive bleeding. I knew something was amiss, but I just couldn’t let myself believe that I could be pregnant; the thought of losing a baby was just too awful to contemplate.

My doctor was sympathetic, but very matter of fact. I was only a few short weeks into my pregnancy, and when the call came that I had been dreading, he confirmed I had ‘aborted’ my child. This was like a knife through the heart; the word suggested to me that I had had a choice. That in some way, I had influenced the decision as to whether my child would live or die. I didn’t. But apparently, in the medical world, a miscarriage that is as early as the one I suffered, is deemed to be a ‘spontaneous abortion’. It didn’t help, believe me.

Coming to terms with losing a baby is no easy feat, and I certainly don’t have all the answers. All I can do is tell you what helped me, and what finally pulled me through the other side.

I talked to anybody who would listen, I even had a name for my baby, and he would have been called Jake. I couldn’t be sure he would have been a boy, but something deep inside me told me he would. My friends were wonderful; they listened and listened and listened some more. Some people find it hard to know what to say, wor
ds don’t often help in these situations. But my advice, if you have a close friend or family member who has lost a baby for whatever reason, please don’t avoid the subject. Allow the sufferer to talk, to cry, to grieve, and just be there for them. My friends were wonderful at a time I felt I couldn’t talk to my husband. Don’t get me wrong; he’s not an unfeeling monster. But he didn’t want a baby and I needed to talk to people who could understand the grief and anger I was experiencing. Mark was there, he felt bad for me, but he didn’t feel that same awful feeling of emptiness and loss. He tried to avoid the subject for fear of making the pain worse, I couldn’t get him to see that to talk and grieve together was healthier for us both.

I wanted something real and tangible that I could look at, or touch, when I wanted to think about my baby. So I bought myself a mohair teddy bear, called Jake and would cuddle him when my grief was at it’s worst. Or when I simply needed to feel close to the child I had lost. Other women cope in a number of ways, a friend of mine planted a small tree in her back garden as a token of remembrance for her baby daughter. She can look out of her window and watch the leaves flutter in the breeze and know that there is life.

Some women find that support groups are a real help, and also talking to women who have suffered miscarriages of their own. They will know exactly how you are feeling, and can give advice on ways to get through and help with the awful feelings of isolation and desolation. This wasn’t for me though, I could only talk to my close friends, I didn’t want to talk to strangers, or a disembodied voice on a telephone help line. This was a very private thing for me, and I needed to be with people that cared about me. One friend in particular was wonderful, he would talk to me for hours, never judging, always supporting and I don’t know how
I would have got through it without him. His sensitivity was incredible, and he always seemed to have the words that I struggled with. Still do in fact.

15 months on, I can now talk openly about it. Pretty much. Writing this has helped too; finally putting down on paper (so to speak) the feelings and pain have been a kind of release in a way. Jake and I may never have met, but I will never forget him and I will always love him.

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