Lean Green Mommy Machine

Thoughts on health, wellness, living green and motherhood

A Silent Grief

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I have been processing and dealing with my miscarriage pretty well. I’m not distraught, laying about in bed. I’ve had some difficult moments or even days but I generally feel ok about the whole thing. I think this is partly because we already have 4 wonderful daughters and had initially declared ourselves “done”. We had had no intention of having more. It feels a bit…confusing to not want any more children, become pregnant, come to acceptance and then joy about that only to lose the baby. But ultimately God has brought me peace in the situation.
I have this friend, Marlissa. She will make you cry. I’m not kidding, just give her a chance and she will. She is the most genuine, caring, deeply feeling woman steeped in God that I have ever known. She just has a way about her. I have friends who have recently talked about her speaking at a women’s event at church and how she had everyone in tears. That’s Marlissa. She’s soft-spoken and gentle. She has a warm and loving smile and you know what she wants to say to you just by looking in her eyes.
I went to church yesterday, the first time seeing all of these friends since the miscarriage. I felt so much love and caring and I smiled and laughed and told them what I told you, that I have peace. And it’s true. I didn’t feel that I was hiding or holding one single thing back. And then Marlissa walked up to me. She looked into my eyes with tears in hers and I was done-for. I just started crying and then trying not to cry (I HATE crying in public. I get so embarrassed!). I was trying to tell her I was fine and ok but in the meantime I was blubbering like a baby. She just reaches this part of you. She’s amazing.
With what little words I was able to speak to Marlissa I mentioned that through this I was comforted by so many friends who shared their stories of miscarriage with me, stories I had never known even after knowing these friends for at least 5 years.
And Marlissa said, “Yes…it’s a silent grief.”
A silent grief. This struck me. It IS. I would guess (without doing actual math, because I hate it) that 95% of the friends who wrote or called to console me had had at least one miscarriage. But I knew of almost none of these losses.
I understand WHY it is kept quiet. If you haven’t told anyone you are pregnant or trying to be then it’s simpler to skip over the losses. It keeps you from having to discuss the emotionally difficult experience. It also keeps the pressure off, real or imagined, of friends and family wondering when you will try again, will you try again, are you pregnant yet, will this one last, etc. We may also worry that friends who are expecting, or hope to be, may spend their pregnancy in fear if they know that their dear friend has had 3 miscarriages.
But I wonder, if we are more open with this pain, if we make this grief not so silent, who might we help? When you hear that your baby is dead it is a very lonely feeling. But if we, as women, reach out and share our losses, not just privately, but to all of our dear friends and family we offer a sort of comforting embrace. Nothing brings back your baby. And perhaps you still have that fear that it will happen again. But knowing that so many women that you respect and love have been through it, have handled it in their own way, and many have gone on to give birth to several children…it’s just not so lonely. But if I hadn’t shared my loss (I had to, of course, as everyone knew we were pregnant) my friends never would have shared their own (save one) and I would be lonely, suffering a silent grief.

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Author: leangreenmommy

Hi, I'm Sonia! I'm the mom of 4 wonderful daughters and wife to one amazing man, trying to live a healthier life, care for the earth and just survive the day. When I'm not cooking up new recipes in the kitchen or shuttling kids to soccer, volleyball and lacrosse I run an in-home daycare and am a freelance writer.

One thought on “A Silent Grief

  1. Beautiful. True. Heartbreaking. Wish I could have been there to walk up to you at church and say everything without saying anything at all. Love you. Miss you. Praying for you.

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