Speaking into the Silence

At a writing retreat a couple of years ago, one of my fellow participants posed the question: "Where are the voices of mothers?" At the time, I had just endured the traumatic loss of my first child five months into the pregnancy (my baby had a rare and severe form of the genetic syndrome osteogenesis imperfecta). I was seeking voices of mothers to speak to what I was going through and a forum for my own tentative voice as I navigated an experience that has a notable silence surrounding it on a societal level. I encountered some incredible medical professionals and a social worker in Vancouver, BC to guide me through the loss and the immediate aftermath, but as time went on, I needed a large scale, communal outlet for this experience. Societal expectations seemed to dictate that I talk about my grief only with close friends and family and that this should preferably take place behind closed doors.

I did not obey this expectation. When I met an acquaintance on the street and was greeted with a routine "how are you?" I offered an uncensored and transparent answer: "I just lost my baby at 20 weeks and it's the most traumatic thing I've ever been through." Some people reacted with visible shock or discomfort as I disclosed this information, but invariably our conversation would open and lead to the disclosure of a similar trauma or loss through their own first-hand experience, or that of a close relative or friend. Miscarriage, late-term pregnancy loss, and stillbirths are variations on continuum of loss that society at large is not equipped (or willing) to support grieving parents with.

I was fortunate. There was a woman in my community who also lost her son to a genetic condition when he was 8 months old. She immediately reached out to me, shared her story, and encouraged me to share mine. My family and closest friends did not make flippant or thoughtless comments about my grief or the gravity of my experience. I told the story again and again in order to find my way through it without surrendering to the grips of a severe depression that seemed to be circling around me, waiting to take hold.

Unfortunately, my experience is not the norm. I know a few women whose family and close friends (and occasionally even their partner) did not understand or sympathize with the gravity of their loss and the necessity of a grieving process. To have one's grief compounded by a lack of support for its validity by those who are meant to love you most is perhaps one of the most isolating and harmful things that can be inflicted on a woman who has just lost her baby.

One of the most helpful responses I received during my pregnancy loss was also the most simple. A colleague listened to my story and said: "That must be really hard." Yes, it was (and is) hard. Thank you, dear friend and colleague, for acknowledging that.