How can I get over my miscarriage?
June 25, 2012 11:46 AM Subscribe
How can I get over having had a miscarriage when there's a strong chance we'll have to make the choice not to have another child?
This past spring I found out I was pregnant. It was a surprise - we have two small children and thought we were done building our family. However, I was surprised at how quickly I became excited at the idea of having another child and how much I came to want that baby.
Then, in April, I had a miscarriage. I was devastated. The people around me, including my OB, assured me that I could try again and would likely have no trouble getting pregnant and having another baby.
However, all of the reasons that we decided to stop at two children - financial reasons, logistic reasons, career planning reasons - are still there. There are many reasons not to bring another child into our family. My husband was somewhat disappointed by the miscarriage, but is more than happy now to just stay with two kids. However, I feel like there's a hole in me that only another child could fill. I ache every month when I make the decision to not get pregnant (we're Catholic and use the fertility awareness method, which means it's a conscious decision whether to get pregnant or not).
I've tried the following things with limited success: therapy, religion, counting my blessings/enjoying the kids I have, and thinking about fostering (something that we wouldn't be able to do for several years, if ever). I still feel resentful and hurt whenever I see a pregnant woman or hear about pregnancy.
What else can I do?
This past spring I found out I was pregnant. It was a surprise - we have two small children and thought we were done building our family. However, I was surprised at how quickly I became excited at the idea of having another child and how much I came to want that baby.
Then, in April, I had a miscarriage. I was devastated. The people around me, including my OB, assured me that I could try again and would likely have no trouble getting pregnant and having another baby.
However, all of the reasons that we decided to stop at two children - financial reasons, logistic reasons, career planning reasons - are still there. There are many reasons not to bring another child into our family. My husband was somewhat disappointed by the miscarriage, but is more than happy now to just stay with two kids. However, I feel like there's a hole in me that only another child could fill. I ache every month when I make the decision to not get pregnant (we're Catholic and use the fertility awareness method, which means it's a conscious decision whether to get pregnant or not).
I've tried the following things with limited success: therapy, religion, counting my blessings/enjoying the kids I have, and thinking about fostering (something that we wouldn't be able to do for several years, if ever). I still feel resentful and hurt whenever I see a pregnant woman or hear about pregnancy.
What else can I do?
Aw, honey, I'm sorry.
When I had a miscarriage (and we didn't have any kids at the time), I was devastated, to the point of being non-functional, for several months. Two things that helped me: therapy with the right therapist, and time. Really, I don't think I felt "better" until after the baby's due date had passed.
It's especially hard, I think, because there is often a mis-match between the woman's feelings and her partners. Which isn't to say that he isn't sad or supportive, it just....it wasn't the same. Which made him feel bad, too. Eventually he came to one of the therapy sessions with me, and that helped, just him acknowledging how much pain I was in.
Be kind to yourself; try to enjoy your kids; do more therapy; give it time.
Also, perhaps seriously discussing the idea of another kid with your husband? I would give it a good six-eight months, but after you've healed more, and are making the decision based on all the right things instead of hormones and emotion, then talk about it? And maybe ask him now to promise to talk about it then - maybe that would help ease the pain that might be there in the "loss of ever having another child" which might be different from "loss of this specific child"?
Sending prayers and hugs.
posted by dpx.mfx at 11:54 AM on June 25, 2012 [2 favorites]
When I had a miscarriage (and we didn't have any kids at the time), I was devastated, to the point of being non-functional, for several months. Two things that helped me: therapy with the right therapist, and time. Really, I don't think I felt "better" until after the baby's due date had passed.
It's especially hard, I think, because there is often a mis-match between the woman's feelings and her partners. Which isn't to say that he isn't sad or supportive, it just....it wasn't the same. Which made him feel bad, too. Eventually he came to one of the therapy sessions with me, and that helped, just him acknowledging how much pain I was in.
Be kind to yourself; try to enjoy your kids; do more therapy; give it time.
Also, perhaps seriously discussing the idea of another kid with your husband? I would give it a good six-eight months, but after you've healed more, and are making the decision based on all the right things instead of hormones and emotion, then talk about it? And maybe ask him now to promise to talk about it then - maybe that would help ease the pain that might be there in the "loss of ever having another child" which might be different from "loss of this specific child"?
Sending prayers and hugs.
posted by dpx.mfx at 11:54 AM on June 25, 2012 [2 favorites]
I am so, so sorry for your loss.
Are you getting near the age where you won't be able to have children anymore, and have to make this decision soon? If not, I would encourage you to take a full year before thinking about or raising this again.
Try thinking about this: if you want another baby to come into the world, do you want them to come into it in the shadow of their sibling's passing, or do you want them to come into it in joy? I know the urge to make another baby must be very great, but it would also be tough on the child itself.
In terms of how to get over it - have you tried maybe joining a support group for women who have had miscarriages? Sometimes these things make us feel really alone, but miscarriage is actually shockingly common, and there are other women who are grieving in very similar ways to you. You might be able to help each other. It sounds like you are grieving this much more deeply than your husband is, and you could maybe use some support from someone who's at your level of pain.
One thing that helped a friend of mine when she lost her baby was being able to fully grieve her loss as a lost child - she was able to obtain a death certificate, and had a small funeral-type gathering, where people talked about how sorry they were not to be able to get the chance to know the baby. Another thing could be to place some sort of memorial spot - even if there's no actual burial, a special tree that could be "X's tree." or a small stone that could be a memory stone might help. This way, like any mother grieving the loss of a child, you have a place to go when you want to experience your hurt. I think maybe having a place and way to grieve helps lance some of the awfulness building up inside.
posted by corb at 12:03 PM on June 25, 2012 [1 favorite]
Are you getting near the age where you won't be able to have children anymore, and have to make this decision soon? If not, I would encourage you to take a full year before thinking about or raising this again.
Try thinking about this: if you want another baby to come into the world, do you want them to come into it in the shadow of their sibling's passing, or do you want them to come into it in joy? I know the urge to make another baby must be very great, but it would also be tough on the child itself.
In terms of how to get over it - have you tried maybe joining a support group for women who have had miscarriages? Sometimes these things make us feel really alone, but miscarriage is actually shockingly common, and there are other women who are grieving in very similar ways to you. You might be able to help each other. It sounds like you are grieving this much more deeply than your husband is, and you could maybe use some support from someone who's at your level of pain.
One thing that helped a friend of mine when she lost her baby was being able to fully grieve her loss as a lost child - she was able to obtain a death certificate, and had a small funeral-type gathering, where people talked about how sorry they were not to be able to get the chance to know the baby. Another thing could be to place some sort of memorial spot - even if there's no actual burial, a special tree that could be "X's tree." or a small stone that could be a memory stone might help. This way, like any mother grieving the loss of a child, you have a place to go when you want to experience your hurt. I think maybe having a place and way to grieve helps lance some of the awfulness building up inside.
posted by corb at 12:03 PM on June 25, 2012 [1 favorite]
I am so sorry for your loss, and it's just a couple of months, so I think you should cut yourself some slack about being in grief and emotional turmoil. Now is probably not a great time to be making decisions about the future, while you're in the midst of your sorrow and your hormonal upheaval.
It's probably not an ideal time to be starting another pregnancy even if you and your husband were both on the same page about another child, so maybe thinking of your family planning as something that gives your body and soul time to heal from its loss, rather than a carved-in-stone decision about family size, might help you give yourself the space to work this through?
posted by Sidhedevil at 12:04 PM on June 25, 2012
It's probably not an ideal time to be starting another pregnancy even if you and your husband were both on the same page about another child, so maybe thinking of your family planning as something that gives your body and soul time to heal from its loss, rather than a carved-in-stone decision about family size, might help you give yourself the space to work this through?
posted by Sidhedevil at 12:04 PM on June 25, 2012
I'm so sorry for your loss. I have a complicated history with pregnancy/motherhood/loss, and I know how crushing it can feel. My last miscarriage, five years ago, was so devastating to me. After that miscarriage, I decided I was done. I had complex medical issues and I just couldn't face any more loss, and I was getting older, I just had to be done.
Another child does not replace the one you lost. Even if you were to have another baby, the grief you feel over the lost baby will still be there. And time is what you need most. It took me a long time to feel normal again, to stop being so sad, to stop feeling furious at pregnant women. Two of my friends were pregnant at the same time, due the same month, I *still* feel screwed up when I see photos of their birthdays on FB or whatever.
Your feelings are normal, be easy on yourself. Don't make a decision for a while.
posted by upatree at 12:05 PM on June 25, 2012 [1 favorite]
Another child does not replace the one you lost. Even if you were to have another baby, the grief you feel over the lost baby will still be there. And time is what you need most. It took me a long time to feel normal again, to stop being so sad, to stop feeling furious at pregnant women. Two of my friends were pregnant at the same time, due the same month, I *still* feel screwed up when I see photos of their birthdays on FB or whatever.
Your feelings are normal, be easy on yourself. Don't make a decision for a while.
posted by upatree at 12:05 PM on June 25, 2012 [1 favorite]
Response by poster: Thanks for all the advice so far. Just to clarify, my question is how to deal with this miscarriage with the assumption that we will not be having more children. I understand that it's selfish, not feasible, etc, which is why I'm not already pregnant again.
posted by christinetheslp at 12:10 PM on June 25, 2012
posted by christinetheslp at 12:10 PM on June 25, 2012
How can you get over your miscarriage? By grieving. In the list of things you've tried you've omitted "grieving the loss of life," which is a pretty critical step to recovering from this. It sounds like you are perhaps trying to make your brain skip that step. If a close friend died, you would not, rationally, respond by rushing out and trying to find a replacement for that friend; you'd take time to mourn your friend's death. This is pretty recent, too; you really need time to mourn before even contemplating anything else, before even contemplating contemplating another pregnancy.
Re. how to deal with this miscarriage with the assumption that we will not be having more children -- how to deal with this miscarriage and the assumption that we will not be having more children are separate problems that will require different approaches. I don't think you can make yourself feel better about both via the same path. Mourn the loss, then deal with the family planning regrets. These are different issues and I think it would be better to try to handle them apart from each other, and it's hard to put grieving on a proverbial back burner.
posted by kmennie at 12:19 PM on June 25, 2012 [2 favorites]
Re. how to deal with this miscarriage with the assumption that we will not be having more children -- how to deal with this miscarriage and the assumption that we will not be having more children are separate problems that will require different approaches. I don't think you can make yourself feel better about both via the same path. Mourn the loss, then deal with the family planning regrets. These are different issues and I think it would be better to try to handle them apart from each other, and it's hard to put grieving on a proverbial back burner.
posted by kmennie at 12:19 PM on June 25, 2012 [2 favorites]
Coping with a miscarriage is challenging no matter what your future family plans are. I think that's why so many people are focusing on that end of things.
Because, even if you do decide to go on to have another child for some reason, there still was an unborn child that you were growing attached to, and which died. That unborn child deserves mourning, and you deserve healing for that loss, completely independent of what your future family plans may be. Even if you went on to give the Duggars a run for their money, that one child wouldn't be part of the clan, and that's just....a sad thing.
I know that it feels like your future plans are exacerbating things, but the primary thing is your loss. That's probably feeding into your grief when you see another pregnant woman; it's not the fact that you probably aren't going to have another child, it's the fact that that child was going to be there and now isn't.
It's a loss. I am sorry for it.
posted by EmpressCallipygos at 12:20 PM on June 25, 2012 [1 favorite]
Because, even if you do decide to go on to have another child for some reason, there still was an unborn child that you were growing attached to, and which died. That unborn child deserves mourning, and you deserve healing for that loss, completely independent of what your future family plans may be. Even if you went on to give the Duggars a run for their money, that one child wouldn't be part of the clan, and that's just....a sad thing.
I know that it feels like your future plans are exacerbating things, but the primary thing is your loss. That's probably feeding into your grief when you see another pregnant woman; it's not the fact that you probably aren't going to have another child, it's the fact that that child was going to be there and now isn't.
It's a loss. I am sorry for it.
posted by EmpressCallipygos at 12:20 PM on June 25, 2012 [1 favorite]
Best answer: I had an unplanned pregnancy about five years ago; I miscarried in my second trimester. It took me at least six months to feel like a person again, not a raw, bleeding wound. Those feelings you are describing didn't really go away for years, and some of them I'm still dealing with today. I feel like you need to let yourself mourn your loss until you feel like you're ready to stop. There's no set timetable for this. It hurts like hell until it hurts a little less and then one day you wake up and it's only a dull ache.
posted by crankylex at 12:24 PM on June 25, 2012
posted by crankylex at 12:24 PM on June 25, 2012
With your clarification,
This might hurt more, or it might help: Is anyone you know having another baby? You say that you're Catholic - could you or would you consider offering to stand as godmother to the child? This might help in some ways - the baby would be partially yours in a sense - you would be always attached to them, be committing to spend a lot of time with them, helping to raise them in their spirituality and otherwise. It might help with some of the need to be holding a baby that's somehow /yours/ in your arms, while at the same time, not incurring the additional financial, logistical, and career planning burdens of another child.
posted by corb at 12:27 PM on June 25, 2012
This might hurt more, or it might help: Is anyone you know having another baby? You say that you're Catholic - could you or would you consider offering to stand as godmother to the child? This might help in some ways - the baby would be partially yours in a sense - you would be always attached to them, be committing to spend a lot of time with them, helping to raise them in their spirituality and otherwise. It might help with some of the need to be holding a baby that's somehow /yours/ in your arms, while at the same time, not incurring the additional financial, logistical, and career planning burdens of another child.
posted by corb at 12:27 PM on June 25, 2012
Best answer: A specific exercise that may be helpful to try is a form of meditation, tonglen. While it originates from Tibetan Buddhist practice, the actual exercise of it is pretty much applicable to folks of any religion (or total lack of one, for that matter).
Stripped of jargon, specific buddhist-rooted mantras and whatnot, it's a deliberate cognitive exercise that uses your capacity of general empathy, and by a bit of counterintuitive mental judo, the exercise-of-empathy's tendency to reduce suffering for the person engaging in it.
The visualization is simply this: consider other people. To get an initial grip on them, picture first the people closest to you. Picture them suffering as you are--wrapped feeling alone around that hole, of potentials lost, stabbing envy, guilt over that envy, isolation, grief. This can be the tricky part when you're in the dark center of it all, but that's the trick involved in the practice. You visualize those people you love suffering like that; the natural, human empathetic reaction is to want to take that suffering from them, to make them feel better. Because that's what people do. So you visualize that, and you breathe it in; you picture breathing in their suffering. Not yours, theirs. You visualize breathing out help, relief to them, them unwrapping and not alone in what they're healing from, of envy fading to happiness and well wishes for others, of forgiveness for what they feel guilty of. Quietly attend to that, the visualizing of breathing in others' suffering, breathing out relief.
The cognitive trick here is, visualizing this stuff is the same, to a degree, as feeling it. It also associates and brings in the natural human feelings of connectedness, which is important since we're such social beings, and so much of suffering's darkness is that it involves feeling disconnected from others.
Now, it's not a panacea or cure. It's just a way of getting past the bad troughs of the ups and downs involved in any period of grieving and pain. Good luck.
posted by Drastic at 12:36 PM on June 25, 2012 [18 favorites]
Stripped of jargon, specific buddhist-rooted mantras and whatnot, it's a deliberate cognitive exercise that uses your capacity of general empathy, and by a bit of counterintuitive mental judo, the exercise-of-empathy's tendency to reduce suffering for the person engaging in it.
The visualization is simply this: consider other people. To get an initial grip on them, picture first the people closest to you. Picture them suffering as you are--wrapped feeling alone around that hole, of potentials lost, stabbing envy, guilt over that envy, isolation, grief. This can be the tricky part when you're in the dark center of it all, but that's the trick involved in the practice. You visualize those people you love suffering like that; the natural, human empathetic reaction is to want to take that suffering from them, to make them feel better. Because that's what people do. So you visualize that, and you breathe it in; you picture breathing in their suffering. Not yours, theirs. You visualize breathing out help, relief to them, them unwrapping and not alone in what they're healing from, of envy fading to happiness and well wishes for others, of forgiveness for what they feel guilty of. Quietly attend to that, the visualizing of breathing in others' suffering, breathing out relief.
The cognitive trick here is, visualizing this stuff is the same, to a degree, as feeling it. It also associates and brings in the natural human feelings of connectedness, which is important since we're such social beings, and so much of suffering's darkness is that it involves feeling disconnected from others.
Now, it's not a panacea or cure. It's just a way of getting past the bad troughs of the ups and downs involved in any period of grieving and pain. Good luck.
posted by Drastic at 12:36 PM on June 25, 2012 [18 favorites]
I'm very sorry for your loss.
As to your followup, if it's not feasible to have another child now, that doesn't mean that it won't be feasible in the future. If you truly decide you want another child, it's a goal that you can work towards, but first you have to be in a healthy, emotionally centered place before you can evaluate that desire and make plans to accomplish it.
Grieving for your lost child and grieving for the end of your chances for another child are two seperate things, and you can't even know if it's time to begin doing the latter until you've fully done the former.
posted by The Master and Margarita Mix at 12:43 PM on June 25, 2012 [1 favorite]
As to your followup, if it's not feasible to have another child now, that doesn't mean that it won't be feasible in the future. If you truly decide you want another child, it's a goal that you can work towards, but first you have to be in a healthy, emotionally centered place before you can evaluate that desire and make plans to accomplish it.
Grieving for your lost child and grieving for the end of your chances for another child are two seperate things, and you can't even know if it's time to begin doing the latter until you've fully done the former.
posted by The Master and Margarita Mix at 12:43 PM on June 25, 2012 [1 favorite]
Something specific I did that helped, I was reminded of by a post above: we had a ceremony. I had a very difficult time with the fact that there was no real closure - no funeral, no .... thing to acknowledged and release grief. So my therapist helped me figure out what would look like closure to me, and my husband and I made that thing happen. I don't feel comfortable sharing the details here, but feel free to MeMail me and I'll expand. It was something very concrete and helpful.
posted by dpx.mfx at 12:43 PM on June 25, 2012
posted by dpx.mfx at 12:43 PM on June 25, 2012
Aside from allowing yourself to grieve completely & healthily, letting the love flow between the four of you, and considering appropriate memorials to acknowledge your desire to cultivate another person's existence (perhaps tithing/volunteering/advocating for organizations that help babies & mamas stay healthy & together...?), I have only this to suggest...
This is based on perception of the soul in a way that might not be compliant with your beliefs, but it's how I got through my miscarriages, especially after being told I'd never be able to conceive or carry to term*: the spark I do not nurture in my own womb and home will come into the world through another, and I can do as much as I can to improve the world for those babies as possible in honour of those I will not carry for myself and in memorial of those I could not carry into the world.
I also soothed myself through the grief for the specific losses with similar thinking - the sparks that I couldn't gestate were returned for a later arrival, and all of the love I had for their potential personhood was carried along with them, to enrich them for their next try at joining everyone here on Earth.
Mama love to you, and I hope you are able to find a loving peace soon.
posted by batmonkey at 12:44 PM on June 25, 2012
This is based on perception of the soul in a way that might not be compliant with your beliefs, but it's how I got through my miscarriages, especially after being told I'd never be able to conceive or carry to term*: the spark I do not nurture in my own womb and home will come into the world through another, and I can do as much as I can to improve the world for those babies as possible in honour of those I will not carry for myself and in memorial of those I could not carry into the world.
I also soothed myself through the grief for the specific losses with similar thinking - the sparks that I couldn't gestate were returned for a later arrival, and all of the love I had for their potential personhood was carried along with them, to enrich them for their next try at joining everyone here on Earth.
Mama love to you, and I hope you are able to find a loving peace soon.
posted by batmonkey at 12:44 PM on June 25, 2012
forgive the errant asterisk, please - I was going to insert further info, but decided it wasn't relevant.
posted by batmonkey at 12:46 PM on June 25, 2012
posted by batmonkey at 12:46 PM on June 25, 2012
Best answer: (For what it's worth, I was also raised Catholic, and I feel like that had a LOT to do with my feelings about closure - where was the funeral? where was the mourning? all this talk about life and respect for life but.... no one wanting to talk about this, really. So, I was pretty pissed at religion generally for a while - the God that gave me this baby just to take it away and make me go through this pain, and every time someone told me that it was happening for a reason I wanted to punch them in the mouth. And we heard that A LOT).
posted by dpx.mfx at 12:54 PM on June 25, 2012
posted by dpx.mfx at 12:54 PM on June 25, 2012
I would echo the general advice about grieving. You mentioned therapy, but nothing specific. I assume you dealt with emotions somewhat in that context—not just your personal emotions, but also the more general nature of emotion. For some people, that's a helpful way to approach it: By acknowledging that certain emotions are common in certain circumstances, and by recognizing that emotions are sometimes irrational yet perfectly valid.
It's an intellectual, "way of thinking" sort of approach. You aren't trying to cancel out the emotions, but rather build some context for them to exist in. (Which context will hopefully make them easier to deal with, and in time, help them fade.) To develop it, some ideas are to read books about emotion and emotional psychology, explore support groups, talk to people who have lived through similar circumstances, and talk to people who have lived through also traumatic but different circumstances.
Some of the things you've tried already seem like focusing on the circumstance and what happened, and the difference here would be to try focusing just on the emotions themselves, and learn about that piece. I'm sorry for what you are feeling. Good luck.
posted by cribcage at 1:06 PM on June 25, 2012
It's an intellectual, "way of thinking" sort of approach. You aren't trying to cancel out the emotions, but rather build some context for them to exist in. (Which context will hopefully make them easier to deal with, and in time, help them fade.) To develop it, some ideas are to read books about emotion and emotional psychology, explore support groups, talk to people who have lived through similar circumstances, and talk to people who have lived through also traumatic but different circumstances.
Some of the things you've tried already seem like focusing on the circumstance and what happened, and the difference here would be to try focusing just on the emotions themselves, and learn about that piece. I'm sorry for what you are feeling. Good luck.
posted by cribcage at 1:06 PM on June 25, 2012
I don't know if this will help or not. When my daughter was born with Down syndrome, hemiplegia from a stroke, and a few other goodies, it was crushing. Absolutely crushing - even in light of all the vocal support we got from our wonderful friends. What I felt was at the bottom of this is that society likes, wants, and expects healthy little babies. A lot. When you don't meet that expectation, it feels like you've failed to live up to everyone's expectation.
I bring this up because I have a close friend who miscarried and we had a great deal in common in terms of feelings about this. And yes, they are hard feelings to carry around.
posted by plinth at 1:59 PM on June 25, 2012 [1 favorite]
I bring this up because I have a close friend who miscarried and we had a great deal in common in terms of feelings about this. And yes, they are hard feelings to carry around.
posted by plinth at 1:59 PM on June 25, 2012 [1 favorite]
Best answer: I'm so sorry for your loss. If it helps any, I had two miscarriages after my son was born, in close succession. I was also told by both my OB and my RE that I should have no problem having another child. That was two years and one failed IVF cycle ago, and I am now dealing with the very real possibility that I am no longer able to have more babies no matter how much I want them. Despite all the advances of science, fertility is still very much a mystery. In your case, is it possible that the doctor's reassurances are getting in the way of your moving on, even more than the miscarriage itself? If you were told that you miscarried because your body was no longer able to carry to term, would that have felt like more or less of a loss (and would figuring out the answer to that question bring you any closer to closure about what it is you want)?
I think that one of the casualties of having so much control over our own fertility now, is that when that door is closed for us, rather than by us, it feels like even more of a betrayal. The fact that this baby was not planned for may have made it feel like a gift rather than a choice -- and if so, it would be easy to ascribe the loss to some higher meaning as well. Which I imagine makes it that much harder to get over.
Having said all that, you are mourning a loss. Not just a pregnancy, but all the hopes and dreams for that child and teen and young adult and parent of your grandkids - however far you allowed yourself to imbue that potential baby with your hopes. You don't just "get over" that so quickly, maybe ever. You come to terms with it, you eventually move on, you learn from your reactions, and in time you learn to forgive all the happily oblivious heavily pregnant women who insist on sharing the earth with you (at least I hope you do, eventually, I'm still not there, I'll admit it). But try to forgive yourself for wanting something you know you probably can't have. It's not a failing. It's an acknowledgement that sometimes circumstances suck. What you want isn't the problem. Not being able to have it, is. And you are so, so not alone in that.
posted by Mchelly at 4:35 PM on June 25, 2012 [1 favorite]
I think that one of the casualties of having so much control over our own fertility now, is that when that door is closed for us, rather than by us, it feels like even more of a betrayal. The fact that this baby was not planned for may have made it feel like a gift rather than a choice -- and if so, it would be easy to ascribe the loss to some higher meaning as well. Which I imagine makes it that much harder to get over.
Having said all that, you are mourning a loss. Not just a pregnancy, but all the hopes and dreams for that child and teen and young adult and parent of your grandkids - however far you allowed yourself to imbue that potential baby with your hopes. You don't just "get over" that so quickly, maybe ever. You come to terms with it, you eventually move on, you learn from your reactions, and in time you learn to forgive all the happily oblivious heavily pregnant women who insist on sharing the earth with you (at least I hope you do, eventually, I'm still not there, I'll admit it). But try to forgive yourself for wanting something you know you probably can't have. It's not a failing. It's an acknowledgement that sometimes circumstances suck. What you want isn't the problem. Not being able to have it, is. And you are so, so not alone in that.
posted by Mchelly at 4:35 PM on June 25, 2012 [1 favorite]
I lost a pregnancy in the fourth month, and I still feel more than a twinge even now, four years later, even since I've had my gorgeous son.
No advice, just empathy.
posted by Athene at 8:21 PM on June 25, 2012
No advice, just empathy.
posted by Athene at 8:21 PM on June 25, 2012
Also, be prepared for the grief to last a long time. You won't get much public support for it because socially, miscarriages are seen as a private matter and not That Big A Deal. You're "meant" to either have another child or to get over it within a few months. Some women do, but quite a few women don't, and you're one of them. Grief is surprising - it can go away for days and then come back sharply with a reminder like a friend's pregnancy, or just tinge your life with sadness for a long while.
You're not just grieving a particular child, you're grieving the discovery that you do quite want another child, and that you probably won't have another, which is the loss of fertility in a way. That's a big and central part of identity for many women.
Look for support from other women who've had miscarriages, online groups or mother's support groups, and ask your husband to recognise and support your grief, even if he doesn't understand it. Don't feel guilty about not being filled with joy over other people's pregnancies and babies. Why should you do more than the minimum of congratulations? Skip baby showers and avoid pregnant friends if it hurts for now.
I liked reading essay collections about miscarriages and infertility. I had no desire to share my own, but it helped to read the emotional experiences of others.
posted by viggorlijah at 9:43 PM on June 25, 2012
You're not just grieving a particular child, you're grieving the discovery that you do quite want another child, and that you probably won't have another, which is the loss of fertility in a way. That's a big and central part of identity for many women.
Look for support from other women who've had miscarriages, online groups or mother's support groups, and ask your husband to recognise and support your grief, even if he doesn't understand it. Don't feel guilty about not being filled with joy over other people's pregnancies and babies. Why should you do more than the minimum of congratulations? Skip baby showers and avoid pregnant friends if it hurts for now.
I liked reading essay collections about miscarriages and infertility. I had no desire to share my own, but it helped to read the emotional experiences of others.
posted by viggorlijah at 9:43 PM on June 25, 2012
Best answer: I wonder if it might ease things (even a little) if you could let go of the idea that wanting another child is selfish and wrong. Which is not to say that you should have another child, but that there's nothing about the wanting to that makes you bad or wrong.
You're in such pain right now, I just hate the idea of there being a nasty little critical voice in your head telling you that it would have been difficult and challenging to deal with having another child and so you shouldn't have been happy about it, therefore you're a bad person who deserves to feel bad. (Assuming your voices of self-hate speak similarly to mine…)
Please be even gentler and kinder to yourself than you think you need or deserve. Very much sympathy.
posted by Lexica at 7:28 PM on June 26, 2012
You're in such pain right now, I just hate the idea of there being a nasty little critical voice in your head telling you that it would have been difficult and challenging to deal with having another child and so you shouldn't have been happy about it, therefore you're a bad person who deserves to feel bad. (Assuming your voices of self-hate speak similarly to mine…)
Please be even gentler and kinder to yourself than you think you need or deserve. Very much sympathy.
posted by Lexica at 7:28 PM on June 26, 2012
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posted by insectosaurus at 11:52 AM on June 25, 2012 [1 favorite]