Last week was Mother's Day. I didn't really put much thought into it until the day arrived, and then the feelings and emotions came flooding in like a tidal wave. When you've had a miscarriage, the rest of the world doesn't really consider you a mother. Sometimes, I find myself wondering if I really consider myself as having been a mother. It's confusing, and painful. It's complicated because not everyone knows that you had a miscarriage. It's frustrating because you want to talk about certain things but you can't do it without addressing the miscarriage. When other's find out they feel awkward around you and don't seem to know how to respond. When I think about it, I feel guilty that I am confused and don't know what I really think or feel about it. On the one hand, to not acknowledge that I carried a life inside me for at least 5 weeks seems to devalue the life that I carried. On the other hand, I feel as though I don't deserve to be called a mom because I didn't finish my race, I didn't complete the course. It's terrible. I'm stuck in this strange limbo land that I can't really navigate.
At church, they asked all the mothers to stand so they could honor them. I couldn't bring myself to do it, even after my wonderful Mr. Darcy urged me to. I just couldn't stand up. I felt that standing up would have been more of an embarrassment than an honor. I felt ashamed that I didn't have any physical proof to let others know I had experienced the joy of being a mother for a brief moment. And then the sadness came flooding back, and I could feel the loss as though it was yesterday. The ache was just as painful and the tears came just as readily as they did 5 months ago.
The grief surprised me, and then made me feel ridiculous. Society tells us over and over that the bundle of cells growing inside a pregnant woman is not really a child until it is born. If this is true, then the loss of that bundle should not be grieved because it's nothing of consequence. While this theory might make some women feel better about ending their pregnancies or choosing to not bring a new life into the world, it also serves to shame those of us who have lost a child unwillingly and are grieved by the loss. It makes us feel as though the pain and the loss we feel is silly, unwarranted, or somehow ridiculous. The message is that we are just experiencing a hormonal rash of emotions that are not based on any sort of logic, and, therefore, are not legitimate. The truth is, our bodies were created to bring forth life, and when, in the process of bringing forth life, our bodies fail, we experience death. Death is a loss. Death causes grief. I did not lose a bundle of cells that I could or could not have lived without. I lost a life that I dearly loved and desperately wanted to experience. That loss causes me grief as a woman, as a wife, as a mother. That grief should not cause me to feel ridiculous.
I know last week was Mother's Day, but I would like to take a moment to acknowledge all those women out there who have carried a life and lost it before they had the chance to hold it in their arms and watch it grow. The world may not acknowledge us as mothers, but I think it takes the love of a mother to grieve over a lost child, to remember the life that was. You may not have gotten any cards telling you what a great mom you are. There may not have been any gifts from tiny hands wanting to express the love they have for you, but, I thought of you, and I want to honor you for road you walked, the sacrifices you made, the love you gave to your child. Happy Mother's Day!
