I’ve struggled to express in words how I felt with the anniversaries of the onset of Sacha’s illness (and my illness), followed by Sacha’s birth and death. The truth is that the anniversaries felt so much worse than the actual events. This year, I lived through those dates – for the first time – with the knowledge that death is enormous and endless, and with the perspective of hindsight to reveal errors that were made in my and Sacha’s care. I lived through those dates without the barriers of confidence, innocence and shock. Without holding my baby in my belly or in my arms.
The anniversaries were brutal – even more so than I had imagined – and I’m so thankful to friends and family who reached out to me on those days and shared remembrances of Sacha’s life in beautiful ways. This post from Eddie’s mom closely reflects my experience of time as it relates to grief. The pain hasn’t actually lessened (though I have grown and strengthened in ways that allow me to bear it more easily).
Another mother recently posted on the approaching anniversaries related to her stillborn son, several years after his birth. She wonders if she could have saved him, inevitably, as she wonders every year. Then she concludes that, truth be told, since his death she has lived every day trying to save him in some way – every single day.
I do the same. Every day.
A dear friend of mine shared an article with me recently about the concept of time when faced with the inevitability of death. Tragically the author had been diagnosed with cancer and died just a few weeks after the article was printed.
Beautifully written and poignant, it struck a chord on how Chris and I view time since we lost Eddie.
Time is the strangest concept in grief. Time used to mean so many things: planning our future or reminicising about our past, time away to have a break, time to ourselves, time for other people, time for a change, give it time, haven’t got the time. And so on…
Time, in its essence, indefinitely moves us forward. As we approach Eddie’s first anniversary, society and some religions dictate that the year of grieving is over. It’s time to get on with our lives.
We feel far away from these…
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Wrapped Up In Parentheses 
This is one of the hardest parts I have being in the babyloss community. I was just reading today about another mom who wonders “if only…” If only I had asked for a c-section earlier, if only I had told my doctor, if only I had come to the hospital when I first started bleeding. It pains me to read these thing because I know from the healthcare provider perspective, it likely wouldnt have changed things. I want to hug these women and tell them its not their fault! I want to use my midwifery knowledge to explain how things are- and that sadly even providers dont always know whats best (though this is NOT to excuse poor care- that is a different animal entirely. and sadly when pts are getting poor care, they are often powerless as well).
I recently had a visit with a woman who had what we technically call a “poor obstetrical history.” Two early first trimester miscarriages, an ectopic, a 14 week loss of twins. Been doing IVF (for several reasons- her history, her age 39 and that she’s in a same sex relationship). She was coming in days after a her second 14 week loss. Had called a few times during the day with cramping (pt and provider thought was gas) and then a little spotting. LAter that night she went to the ED with heavier bleeding and passed her baby en route. SHe was upset for many reasons. THe first was that she had thought if she simply came to the hospital earlier in the day, when she first felt symptoms, we could have admitted her and stopped everything. The second is the sadly terrible care she received. With her first 14 week loss, she got very good bereavement care- foot prints of her babies, the chance for burial, simple compassion. THis time, at a different ED, she got none of those things.
For me I could help _this_ woman because she was a pt with our practice. I was able to assure her that sadly, even if she had come in with the first symptom and we could have predicted what was happening, there was nothing we could do to stop her 14 week loss. I think that helped with some of the guilt she was struggling with- though I know it will always linger. I was able to also give her a little of the compassion the ED had lacked, asking if she named her baby and if she wanted help arranging burial. I only wish everyone else with such feelings of guilt could be assuaged in some way
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