First off, I want to thank everyone who offered Snowmonkey and I support and condolences for our pregnancy loss. It really meant a lot to us. Now that we’ve had over a week to grieve and process this loss, I wanted to attempt to articulate some thoughts and feelings that I have had. FYI, these thoughts are very preliminary and not full fleshed out. I’m still trying to sort them out for myself.
1) The culture of pregnancy loss is more mother-centered than father-centered. That is, the mother recieves more attention from others than the father does. Plus, there are more resources (written, online, etc.) for mothers experiencing pregnancy loss than there are for fathers experiencing it. Both Snowmonkey and I noticed this. Part of it has to do with how our culture equates reproduction, fertility, pregnancy, and parenthood with womenhood/motherhood and leaves fathers/men on the sidelines. We’ve noticed this at other times, particularly in the context of our infertility treatments, which we are doing because of SnowMonkey’s infertility problem.
The other reason why fathers get left out of the culture of pregnancy loss is because our society focuses more on the physical dimensions of miscarriage (which the woman goes through) than on the emotional dimensions of miscarriage (which both parents go through). Don’t get me wrong, it’s not that people/society ignore the emotional dimensions of miscarriage. Rather, it is that pregnancy loss is a taboo subject of sorts, a topic that you’re not supposed to dwell on for too long because it makes people uncomfortable. In other words, the emotional pain of a miscarriage last much longer than the physical pain, but after a certain point, you’re not supposed to talk about that emotional pain anymore.
2) I had a natural miscarriage, which means that I waited until my body was ready to expel the fetus and uterine tissue rather than have a D&C or induce the miscarriage with drugs. To be sure, the miscarriage sucked. It started full force around 12:30 PM yesterday and lasted until 10:00 that night. The most severe pain occurred between 8 and 10 PM. People liken miscarriage pains to early labor contractions but without the breaks in between. I can relate to that description, as my cramps/contractions during that two-hour time period didn’t let up the entire time. (Although once my body expelled all the clots it needed to get out, the contractions ended pretty quickly). I am glad I belong to a pregnancy and mothering support group, as I would not have been prepared for the amount of blood and clots that came out of my body. Nor would I have been prepared for the physical pain of it all. In short, I found the experience physically and emotionally exhausting.
At the same time, I also found the experience empowering and exhilerating. Your body goes through this very intense process and it just sort of knows what it needs to do to expel the fetus from the body. I really appreciated having the opportunity to experience my body as it did its thing. I also found it empowering to find ways to manage the pain without drugs. When the two hour contraction surge set in, I sort of instinctually knew what I needed to do to deal with the pain. I had a sense that walking would help, which it did. I also had a sense that certain–albeit modifed–yoga positions would help, and I was right. Perhaps my most important insight came when I tried to lie down on my back at one point (I was trying to watch a movie through some of this and though that lying down would help) and the position made my pain much worse. This made me experience first how how the traditional position for giving birth (on your back) is not necessarily the best way to faciliate the labor process. Conseqeuntly, all my feminist ire toward the medical system for its conventional approach to birth hit home, and I felt even more committed to having a natural birth (assuming I get pregnant again) and trusting my own instincts (coupled with a course or two) regarding pain management. I guess what I’m saying is that in some respects, supporting my body through the miscarriage was a big confidence booster.
More thoughts to come.
For anyone interested in reading more about the culture of pregnancy loss, check out Motherhood lost: A cultural account of pregnancy loss in America by Linda Layne. It’s a great book.
July 10, 2007 at 9:38 pm
Thank you so much for writing this. It brought back my own miscarried pregnancy from two years ago (I lost the pregnancy right as I was entering T2). You are so right about the similarities between the bodily process of miscarriage and labor. I also think that miscarriage gave me the confidence to go through natural childbirth.
I don’t know if you are prone to depression, but I experienced PP psychosis a couple of weeks after my miscarriage (after I had grieved). My OB said PPD is common after miscarriage because the hormonal drop is so sudden. You may have heard about that through your support group, but I thought I would mention it in case you hadn’t. It was a shock to me.
July 10, 2007 at 10:55 pm
What a woman you are. Really. To experience what you have and to find the lessons within – so soon. And, to love/embrace your body for its strengths – a gift, for sure. Hold tight to that.
One of the many things that you said that struck me was:
“In other words, the emotional pain of a miscarriage last much longer than the physical pain, but after a certain point, you’re not supposed to talk about that emotional pain anymore.”
This comment resonates with me and my own experience of infertility. A predicament that just doesn’t go away – nor do the losses related.
My heart goes out to you and Snowmonkey.
Heartfelt hugs to you.
XO
July 10, 2007 at 11:18 pm
Awww Sweety, I just read. I am so sorry for both your and Snowmonkey’s loss. I also just read your last entry and you are one enlightened, fiercely aware in suffering feminmama and I know (we all know) that is lovingly mirrored in your significant other. Sad for your loss, but tears at your wisdom.
July 10, 2007 at 11:26 pm
I am in awe; you found reason to understand the process and appreciate your body in all this. You knew what you needed, instinctually. I’m also surprised; I had no idea that a miscarriage was so painful. But it makes sense that I didn’t know that; again, it’s part of the taboo. I am sorry for all the pain both you and Snowmonkey have endured.
July 11, 2007 at 1:43 pm
So sorry, again, that you are having to go through this at all, but inspired by your process. I agree fully that we all need to talk publicly about the losses of infertility and miscarriage in order to offer a different way of being to the next generation.
I am sorry, too, that the natural miscarriage was so painful, albeit a learning experience as well. You’re so right that it’s important to know that our relationship to our bodies is primal and instinctual, rather than handed to us by the medical profession on a regular basis. When I had my D&C, of course, they told me I had to do it if I wanted to continue with fertility treatments–because they had to collect the “products of conception” for analysis. It was not a confidence booster.
I continue to wish peace for you and Snow Monkey.
July 11, 2007 at 5:19 pm
I’m just so god damn proud that you’re my friend.
Just wanted you to know that.
Dan
July 11, 2007 at 8:09 pm
I agree, that there a clock, with an alarm on it, and once the alarm goes off, the discussion on a miscarriage or death of a child is no longer allowed.
It’s a rule followed mostly by those who either never faced it personally or don’t discuss personal issues to begin with.
For most of our family, the miscarriage alarmclock went off at about 3-10 days post procedure… the still birth at 32 weeks, well that alarm clock was slightly more gracious… for some 10-12 days for others, we found there was no alarm clock.
But for those who had no alarm clock on the support, discussion, etc., they made up about .00001% of the people we knew.
it sucks and it’s real, and it’s horrible to lose a life and have so little family to go to who will allow you to share with them and to care openly for long afterwards. The best we can do is make a difference in other people’s lives… that’s the very best.
I wish I could have changed the environment around you, I know your pain all too well. And I’m sorry for your loss. Always here if you need me, ok?
July 12, 2007 at 10:43 am
Just wanted to let you know again how sorry I am for the two of you. Your description of the miscarriage as being cathartic, while heartbreaking, is also amazing and beautiful. I’m keeping you both in my thoughts, and wishing you both lots of peace.
July 14, 2007 at 10:25 pm
I’m in awe. I’m so sorry for the loss you and Snow Monkey are living with, but amazed by the strength you’ve found in this.
July 18, 2007 at 10:50 am
You have my deepest sympathies and respect for the way you are dealing with this loss.
My second miscarriage was completely traumatic. I’m still processing it, almost 3 years later. BUT, just this morning as I was ironing, I realized that had I not lost that pregnancy, we would not be getting to adopt our son. It’s the Taoist Farmer story again, in a way.
Take care and heal.
July 19, 2007 at 1:44 pm
Thank you so much for writing what I can only assume had to be a difficult post to write. Being someone who is also traveling the road of infertility, with it’s endless barage of medications and doctors and tests, I can understand the loss of trust that you begin to have with your body as you go through the process of diagnosis and treatment. I can see that being able to take back control of your body, albeit not under the best circumstances, could be a somewhat positive experience in the sense that you are beginning to get back in touch with your own body again, without the misguided trappings of the medical community. You begin to believe in yourself and capabilities once again.
Again, I am sorry that there had to be a loss involved in this process, a great one at that. Much peace and healing to you and your husband.
July 26, 2007 at 10:26 am
Barb,
I am so sorry to hear this sad news. My computer crashed about a month ago so this message is delayed, I am so sorry! Contact me whenever you want to. I have miscarried three times. Twice in the first trimester and once in the second which was the worst experience of them all.
Please contact me anytime if you want to talk, vent or express anything at all. I understand.
I wish you and Paul much love during this time in yourlives.