By Amy Peterson
As a popular blogger and fellow loss mom wrote, we live in a pregnancy and baby obsessed society. “Mom culture” has exploded in recent years. Gender reveal parties are now a thing and many are elaborate affairs. Etsy is filled with never-ending onesies that can be personalized with pretty much any adorable phrase an excited new parent could dream up. Facebook and Instagram are overflowing with pregnancy announcement pictures and videos, many of which go viral. Pinterest will show you (even if you don’t necessarily want it to) hundreds of pins about the top baby gear of 2019 and checklists of how to prepare for a new baby’s arrival.
But what happens when the baby never arrives? What happens when the baby dies?
That question is usually where people who have not experienced baby loss turn away in silence. They have no idea what to say and are often too uncomfortable to even try to think of a response. Many will change the subject.
Where does that leave parents like me? You know, the ones who have no choice but to live every minute of every day in the aftermath of that question.
We cannot turn away from our reality. We cannot erase or ignore our gut-wrenching grief. Even on good days when we can smile and laugh, the grief is still there to some degree. That’s because grief is the hole in our earthly lives where our child should be. It is the unending love our hearts are pouring out for them. It is us missing them constantly. It is our parental nurturing instincts not being used to their full potential.
No, we cannot “turn off” the grief or the grief triggers.
Yet, that is often what is asked of us. We are asked to turn off our grief and “just be happy” for the family member or friend who is expecting a baby. We are asked to turn it off and attend the baby shower. We are asked to turn it off when that family member or friend delivers the baby. What happens when we can’t turn it off? What happens when that pregnancy, that baby shower, that delivery, triggers painful emotions so intense we have trouble functioning in our daily lives? What happens when those things trigger panic attacks and PTSD flashbacks? Should we have to endure that? My answer is no. I don’t believe we should have to endure those things until we feel ready to face them.
Many loss parents, including myself, are in therapy trying to heal from severe anxiety disorders, depression, and trauma/PTSD. We are trying to learn essential coping skills that will help us deal with a whole world filled with things that every day remind us of our losses. Those grief triggers that society views as harmless can often be major mental health setbacks for us. Our mental health matters.
I’m pouring these thoughts out with one hundred percent honesty in the hopes that people can learn a new perspective. That new perspective could improve countless relationships.
If you’re reading this and you know someone who has lost a baby, please don’t push your pregnancy/baby (or someone else’s) on that loss parent. Please don’t force them to stuff their feelings, attend baby-related events, or be involved with the pregnancy if they don’t feel able to cope with it yet. Please don’t guilt them for not commenting on your pregnancy announcement or texting congratulations when your child is born. If they do manage to say something, please don’t guilt them if they don’t sound enthusiastic. Please don’t text them your latest ultrasound picture or a picture of the awesome new crib you bought if they haven’t told you they are okay seeing those things. All of those scenarios are extremely painful reminders of the child who was ripped out of their arms. It doesn’t matter how many months or years have passed since their child (or children) died. Also, please don’t assume that those who went on to have living children don’t still get triggered by baby things. Many do.
So, as hard as it may feel, have that conversation with your friend or family member. Ask them where they’re at emotionally and what they can and can’t handle when it comes to baby talk. They will be so grateful that you cared to ask.
A loss parent who is shying away from a pregnancy or newborn is not trying to be hurtful. Yes, you read that right. We are not trying to be hurtful, insensitive, rude, or spiteful. Shying away from grief triggers when necessary is not personal and it’s not a personal attack on anyone. It’s us protecting our hearts. It’s as simple as that.
If a grieving parent asks for time and space to process emotions, please allow them that. I know you want them to be excited with you. Believe me, every baby loss parent I’ve met would give anything to go back to the person they were before miscarriage, stillbirth, or early infant death was a part of their life story. They would love to be able to feel that unbridled, blissful excitement untouched by grief.
Once you’ve joined the club of baby loss you can never un-join. It’s a life sentence.
My son was stillborn, my daughter was miscarried, and another baby was lost at 4 weeks. My husband and I also deal with fertility problems. It is, without a doubt, the heaviest emotional pain I’ve ever had to carry and I’ve known a lot of pain in my life. My grief and ability to cope with triggers has been up and down in between our three losses. I have personal experience with a couple pregnancies being pushed on me when I couldn’t handle them. However, the vast majority of my family and friends have been incredibly supportive and understanding. I’m forever thankful to them because their support has allowed me the freedom to grieve while not fearing the loss or deterioration of relationships I value. It has also allowed me the opportunity to form a bond with their children at a pace I feel comfortable with.
Giving a loss parent your hand to hold on their grief journey instead of force and judgement is one of the greatest gifts and I’ll never stop advocating for that.
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Amy Peterson lives in central Minnesota with her wonderful husband, Brad. Their beloved son, Elijah David, was stillborn at 22 weeks on June 22, 2016. They currently share their home with Brad’s service dog, Empire, another sweet dog named Baylee and a spunky cat named Peanut. In her free time she enjoys writing, reading, music, photography, being out in nature, cooking, and spending time with family and friends.
Amy is finding purpose in working for the pregnancy loss community through volunteering and charity work. This journey has led her to meet some of the most compassionate and amazing people. She is passionate about giving a voice to the issues surrounding miscarriage, stillbirth, and neonatal death. Her biggest focus now is to honor the life and memory of her son.
- Infertility vs Cancer - April 19, 2021
- Loss is Not a Dirty Word - December 7, 2020
- What I Wish I Could Tell the Non-Loss Community - November 17, 2020
Amy, I am with you. I understand your sentiments 1000%. You’re not alone.
I miscarried in February of 2019 and also miscarried my baby girl on June 4, 2019. I was 11.5 weeks. The last loss was excruciatingly painful— physically, mentally, and emotionally.
We are a sisterhood- a club we never sled to join, but we will always be apart of this club.
Dealing with loss is extremely difficult, even going through alone. I know so many people who are pregnant right now, I can list all of their due dates on both hands.
So often I ask myself “Why? Why can’t I be a part of these celebrations? Why can’t I share my joy with everyone else who’s expecting? Why was my joy taken away?”
We want to support these women, but we also need to protect our hearts. Your words sum up the entire situation… you’re happy, but the grief is still there. You’re overcome with grief, but you don’t mean to be hurtful if you don’t text, respond on social media. I can’t go on Facebook. It’s just too painful.
Thank you for putting into words, the tornado of emotions I’ve been experiencing these last 5 months and helping me make sense of it all.