Friday, January 16, 2009

You say I Fetishize

(I've been playing around with this post in my head for awhile, I just didn't have time to write it. So busy. Okay, so no one has ever said this to me really... but it's like, paranoid, I can hear them saying it in their minds, behind my back, beyond my grasp. I wonder if I'm the only one that feels that way, afraid of others not understanding what you're going through with a loss, and assuming you are mentally unstable and morbidly attracted to your own suffering. But really, it's just that they can not understand... it's that thought that drove this post I think.)

I sometimes believe that some people have this belief that I fetishize my miscarriage; as if I focus on it with a dark intensity. I assure you I do not. I simply can not let go, no matter how much I try. We can more easily disarm hate and longing, than love and pride.

It's not just that he was my first pregnancy. It's not just that he may be the only pregnancy, the only baby, I ever create. It's not just that it hurt, the sharp decline from bliss to loneliness. It's not just that I waited so long for him to come.

It's just that I love him.

I can hear you now, "How can you love someone you never met?"

Well, that's where you are wrong. See, we've met, him and I. I've seen him hundreds of times when I've closed my eyes. I've spoken to him in the womb. I'd awaited him for years. I've daydreamed about his curled lips and soft downy cheeks, my arms have ached for his warm embrace. No, it's not that I haven't met him; it's that you haven't met him yet. Your disbelief in my acute pain arises simply from your inability to see what I see. But it's right there, if you look hard enough with your sallow heart.

I can hear you again, "But, how can you love someone who never came to be?"

Ah, but he did come to be. It's just that his stay was cut short. He was here, just as real as you or me, it's just that you couldn't see him yet. He took my egg, my husband's seed, and sprouted. He grew roots into my womb, he took heed in his mission. It's just, he chose not to break forth; instead of becoming a towering sycamore, he resigned to forever being a stalk of grass. He left traces of his existence all around me, if only you would look hard enough to see them. His roots have wound their way down my steely veins, they are still firmly bound in my heart.

I am proud to have been a carrier of something so precious, even if we were always chasing each other down, always one step behind or one step ahead. I treasure the few moments I had with him. I do not stick to these memories out of dark resolution, but rather out of that stillness of love and pride. The quiet place where you miss, but smile at the same time. I will not give that up.

I do not fetishize; I love, I laugh, and some days I mourn. My child is not simply his death, no matter how much you think he is. You try to take this love, affection, away from me by calling it by other names. But it is cruel to turn the beauty of life into a dark and twisted thing. Besides, I can see beyond you; I can see what you can not see with your blind blissful eyes. I am whole, complete, as was he. And so are we.

25 comments:

*~*Bodhi~*~Englightenment*~* said...

I've had 3 miscarriages and so have never had the chance to "meet" any of the angels that I and DH created but I've loved them all unconditionally none the less.

I actually believe grieving for a child you never got to "meet" is harder than on you did, you have no physical memories to recall, how they felt, smelt etc

Grief is a very personal thing and NO ONE has the right to tell you when you should or shouldn't be over grieving for a loved one, especially a baby...

L&L

xxxx

Michelle said...

I know exactly what you are sayig. I have loved and do love my 4 angels as if they were here a whole lifetime. It is possible I know because I feel it too. Your feelings are yours and please do not let anyone EVER tell you how you should feel about your baby and your profound loss. Sending you lots of ((HUGS))

The Steadfast Warrior said...

You know that I understand how you feel. It is so hard to make people understand what the loss of a child, any child in any circumstance, does to a person. Miscarriage can be even harder because others don't have the tangible results to see and say, "I'm so sorry you lost your child. I can't imagine how hard it is for you". Many take a long time to get there, some never do. I think that this is the beauty of the ALI community. We get it.

Your feelings are yours and they are no one elses. I won't tell you to ignore the hurtful comments because I too have felt the sting.

What a day, eh? HUGS darlin'. I'm here for you and want to thank you for being there for me. Your comments are always welcome and wanted.

Jodi said...

hun you have done nothing wrong. everything you feel is right. And very real. I think those who are lucky enought to have never gone threw what we have gone threw will never understand.

You have to live it. To understand it and without understanding they should just mind their own business.

We held our little girl in our arms she was real....

Hun you grieve the way you need to grieve, but remember that your baby will give you the strength to let him go when you are ready not a moment before.

big hugs hun..

Cara said...

This is a gorgeous post. So true. So very true.

"The quiet place where you miss, but smile at the same time. I will not give that up." Me Either.

Lori said...

Such a beautiful post. I want more people to read it.

Rachel said...

I came here for the book tour, but your post isn't ready yet. Anyway, I am so glad I got to see this post, because I feel the same way.

I can tell my story is different from yours, but sometimes I swear I can see in my friends' eyes the question, "why is she still grieving?"

Shelby said...

I very much feel this way about the baby I miscarried last summer. I too have met him/her many times, in my dreams. Don't ever let anyone minimize you're bond to this little being just because of misunderstanding and ignorance. You're forever tied to him.

eyeheartinternet said...

Amazing, haunting, thank you.

I miscarried the only pregnancy I have ever had nearly three years ago. I loved him, love him.

I remember others, even my husband, ho told me, you'll get pregnant again.

I didn't want to be pregnant again, I wanted the baby I was losing, had lost.

Thank you for your words.

Delenn said...

Wonderfully beautiful post. I will think of miscarriage differently now. Thank you.

N said...

A beautiful post. And so, so true. ♥

annacyclopedia said...

Perfectly beautiful post - thank you for writing this.

JuliaS said...

This is precisely what the world at large doesn't get about miscarriages and mourning our babies. Because, well, they were/are babies. We wanted them,created them. Sometimes we got to see their hbs, see their tiny arms and legs and then it all gets taken away so quickly, so cruely. I didn't just lose a baby - I lost a whole lifetime of loving, learning about a unique individual - watching them grow, making those memories - just in potential alone, the loss was astounding.

Very insightful and well-worded post, thank you for sharing your thoughts.

Zee said...

I came over through Mel's Friday Blog Roundup. This is such a beautiful and true post, and I wanted to thank you for writing it.

Almost five years ago my first and only pregnancy ended at eight weeks (after I'd seen a heartbeat three times) and I've never ceased mourning that could-have-been child. She (I've always felt she was a girl) will always be a part of my life, although I realize that most other people will not understand how or why.

As others have said above, no one has any business telling you how you should or shouldn't feel about something so important. It's not fetizhizing, it's genuine grief, and I'm so sorry that you find yourself here on this crappy path.

Love and empathy to you,
Zee

projectkjetil said...

(Got here from Mel's... oops, I mean Lollipop's)

What a beautiful, heartbreaking post. Not only do I NOT think it's fetishizing, I admire your willingness to put a real name, a real knowing on the little person you lost.

I recently found out I was miscarrying at six weeks, and am waiting out the post-mc cycle to start again. Right now, I'm chanting the "It's just proof that you will get and stay pregnant next time" mantra to myself, as though it's a temporary patch that soothes some of the grief I feel.

You've done an admirable job of facing your grief, truly mourning your Sebastian. A much healthier (and more honest) way to mark your loss.

I wish you the best as you go forward, and am so so sorry that you lost your boy.

Kristin said...

What an incredibly beautiful post. I am so sorry for your loss.

luna said...

this is such a perfectly gorgeous post. I wish the whole world could read it. seriously, it's just perfect. thank you for sharing this.

Guera! said...

I can't tell you how much this post spoke to me. I have not experienced such loss and have wondered about some of the things you so beautifully address and acknowledge. This was poetic. Beautiful.

m said...

I so agree with luna. I wish everyone would read this post.

Even when babies are born, then lost, there is still a disconnect. There are still people that cannot (how can they?) visualize or imagine the loss that we feel. Somehow the children are less real. Somehow you love them less. And you know all too well that's just not true.

Thank you for putting this into words.

Ellen said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Ellen said...

Hi. I got here through a link on kirtsy. That is a truly moving, meaningful post. I have honestly wondered why a miscarriage would be so hard to deal with. Especially after I had a baby boy who had a stroke at birth (he survived, and is doing miraculously well). Once you've gone through the grief of such a mind-blogging trauma, something you could have not dreamed up in your worst nightmare, sometimes you think that nothing else can be as painful. But reading your post made me feel so un-empathetic for ever thinking that. Suddenly, I understood completely what a woman who's suffered a miscarriage. I am so sorry for your loss. I hope this blog has been as cathartic for you as mine has been for me.

Annie said...

Absolutely. And I too have felt like this is what people were thinking or saying behind my back, afraid to bring it up but dropping little hints that maybe I was taking all of this a bit too hard, thinking about it too much, spending too much of my time and writing dwelling on it.

And the truth is, I want to talk about it and write about it because these stories and thoughts of loss are the only memories I have of the three babies I lost. I can't ignore my children, can't pretend they were never here.

Thank you so much for sharing. This post is beautiful, heart-aching but beautiful.

Becky said...

Thank you for this beautiful post. We just lost our baby girl a week and a half ago at 10 weeks after seeing her heartbeat twice on US. We have been TTC for four years now and we don't know if we will ever have another child. But I think what I wish people outside of the ALI community could understand is where you said, "No, it's not that I haven't met him; it's that you haven't met him yet." We already loved our little girl and we will cherish the short time we had with her forever.

Photogrl said...

What an honest, beautiful post.

After 4 losses, there are many people I wish could/would read this. Then maybe they would understand.

Thank you.

noswimmers said...

What a beautiful, truthful post. It puts into words so many feelings I have experienced myself. Thank you so much for sharing.