Miss Zoot got some awful news today. Ever since, I’ve been wonder what sort of post I was going to write today since I am trying to write at least once a day lately. But everything seemed so trite and trivial and stupid in light of her news. The best I could think to do was go back into my August 2005 archives and look through the posts I made surrounding my own miscarriage. So that I could refresh my memory on what it feels like to have that happen to you. And, yeah, it sucks. Over time and happier experiences, the memories have faded somewhat. Mercifully. The pain has dulled, and thank God for that.
Losing a baby to miscarriage is a heart-wrenching experience. All the hope and dreams that are associated with that baby (and yes, it is a baby, not a fetus or whatever) are dashed. There’s feelings of failure, of anger, of guilt, of betrayal… Even now, looking back, I think that all the alcohol we drank that month really helped us through. Don’t think I’m condoning that, exactly. Because for some people, it’s so easy to start drinking and never stop. We had no trouble stopping at the end of the month. The alcohol helped us relax, to dull our pain and let us make it through the evening. And yes, it bonded us a bit too. We’re now back to hardly ever drinking, even socially and I doubt there’s a drop of alcohol anywhere in the house (dangit). It helped us. We needed help. Those sharp feelings had to be softened somehow.
I ache for Kim today. I’ve thought of her and her family all day long. While it’s absolutely wonderful that she has two beautiful children already, it’s little consolation about the one she’s lost. You’ve heard it before, mothers always say that all their children are different. Sure, little Billy might look a little like his big sister Sally, or they might have the same nose. But they are at the heart of it, different people. My mom told me just today that she had five children and none of them were the same. It’s fabulous she has those children at home to hug and enjoy but there will always be a hole in her heart for the baby she lost today.
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Zoot 06.26.07 at 10:00 am
The loss never goes away, but you’re right, it does fade. I guess. Or maybe it just transforms? Who knows. But it’s helpful just to know others go through it and survive eventually. And yeah - alcohol - why does it help me so? I’m not even a big drinker, but all I could think about yesterday was beer. Heh.
Here’s to those places in our hearts saved for the children we lost. And here’s to the ones currently terrorizing us in our homes
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