I can't imagine this is just how "I" feel, or felt at the time. I think anyone who has suffered a loss too early feels a lot of the same things.
They tell you that you are going to bleed, you just gave birth. The nurses are as compassionate and as kind as they can be as they give you the pads and tell you that you might have a period for the next six weeks - to expect what seems like a lot of blood for awhile. They don't tell you that sometimes you wish there were more pain to go with the blood, that maybe that pain, physical pain, would hurt less than feeling this pain coming from everywhere in you, and everywhere you look. The nurses tell you to take motrin for the cramping, it will make it a little easier. Don't they get that you want to feel pain, physical pain would be so much easier to deal with. You want a pain that would take your mind and spirit off of the pain that seems to be ripping you apart, one tiny piece of your heart at a time.
They tell you that your body has to go through the natural birth process, and the bleeding is part of that. What's natural about a baby leaving this world before he ever came into it? What's natural about losing a child? What's natural about them telling you that there is no choice, it's either the baby, or you and the baby? They don't seem to understand that sometimes you wish it had been both of you, because at least then you'd be with him. At least if you'd gone with him then your arm's wouldn't be aching to hold him knowing they never will. At least then you could see him open his eyes. At least then your heart wouldn't feel so far away.
Another thing that they share with you is that there is a strong chance that your milk is going to come in. They tell you what to do, wrap up your chest tight, take cold showers, don't let running water run over your chest, don't allow your nipples to be stimulated. The nurses don't warn you that your body doesn't know you've lost the child you've been dreaming of. No one tells you that you'll have to walk through a Target store to get a sport bra, to hold your boobs tightly, to help keep your breasts from hurting from your milk coming in to feed the child that isn't there. The nurses don't tell you that hearing a baby cry will make your chest ache in a way that it's never ached before, a way that is just one more reminder of how you failed your child.
Another thing I've noticed is that everyone wants to know how you are doing; you as in the mom. No one seems to ask how daddy is doing. No one seems to understand that watching dad go through this pain is worse than going through it yourself. Nobody realizes that you would give anything to be able to take that pain away from him. There isn't anyone out there that warns you that you'll forever wonder if dad would have been better off never knowing, never loving, and never having you in their life, because without all that, this pain would not be there for them. They don't seem to understand that you know that without you, he wouldn't have to be hurting this way.
When people ask, and people call,
They ask if I'm alright.
No one seems to notice, or remember
He too lost a child that night..
When you lose a child people don't warn you that you'll feel lost in places that you've been a million times before. No one tells you that you'll never feel so lost, so scared, so hopeless, or so claustrophobic in your entire life. No one warns you that you won't be able to breathe, that the world suddenly will have no air left in it, and you won't be able to move. They don't warn you that all the sudden every store has everywhere, and that every single woman everywhere you go is going to be pregnant. Suddenly you feel like the only person out there who isn't pregnant or doesn't have a baby in their arms. Everywhere you look will be a reminder of the child that should still be inside of you, the child that should still be with you.
No one warns you that starting each day is like being shocked awake after a nightmare. That every morning when you begin to regain the ability to think it's like having the nightmare of the past come rushing in all at once. They don't tell you that every morning the pain feels fresh, like it just happened. Each day starts out with tears that you can't stop and you wonder why and what the point is of even waking up each morning. You end up laying there in bed reliving each and every moment all over again, wanting and wishing that the baby that should still be in you was still there. Your hand moves to the round belly thats suddenly flatter, wishing you could feel the kicks and flutters just one more time.
Well meaning people tell you "at least you were able to get pregnant" they tell you "you'll have another baby". They don't seem to understand that this baby, this child, isn't replaceable. It's not like a broken watch that you can just go out and buy a new one - even if this baby never took a breath of air he was a baby. This baby was a person, your child, and you can't just forget him, or switch him out. A new baby might be in your future, but that new baby won't take away the hurt of losing this one. Being able to get pregnant isn't the same as bringing a beautiful life into this world, raising them and watching them grow. All it means is you can get pregnant, it doesn't mean you can bring a happy healthy child home to his nursery, and be there for their first cuts and bruises. They don't seem to understand you don't want a replacement, you don't want another baby, you want the life that was lost.
All of the sudden people don't know what to say when you are around. All of a sudden conversations stop when you get close. Friends who used to call every day suddenly don't. People avoid talking about your baby after you've lost them. What no one tells you, and no one seems to understand is that you wish someone would talk about your baby. People are going on living their lives like nothing happened and all you want is to know that you aren't the only person out there who is going to remember your child. You baby was alive, and real, and you loved him, and it hurts that people won't bring him up. They think they are saving you the pain of remembering him, and yes it does hurt, but at least you know someone else remembers him too. Your baby may not have been here on this earth very long, but he was here. Your baby made an impact on your life, and changed you, how is it that no one else seems to see that? How is it that no one else realizes that someone lost their life, and that someone deserves to be mourned, and praised. Just because he wasn't around very long does not mean he didn't change the world. Sometimes it seems like you and your husband are the only two people who even knew this baby existed, the only two people who will ever care that he was here and is gone. Just so you know that you and hubby aren't the only two people who are feeling this loss. Sometimes you just wish someone would mention his name just so you know he was real.
No one warns you that you might feel guilty for laughing, really laughing. They don't warn you how when you do finally laugh for real, for the first time, that it hits you like a ton of bricks how long it's been since you really did laugh. No one seems to understand that it's okay to tell a joke, it's okay for them to be happy, you need to see the sun shining now more than ever. Your world feels like you are in the middle of a thunderstorm that's never ending and you need nothing more than that little ray of light.
No one out there can give you the words to explain how you wish you could find yourself doubting God. They don't warn you that doubting God's existence would be easier. While you can't find it in you to doubt God, while you can't find a way to pretend He didn't exist, there were times you wish you could. It would be so much easier to view the taking of this tiny life as an act of nature, than an act of God. It would be easier to say that it "just happened" than to try to figure out why God would allow this to happen. What reason could God possibly have, what lesson could be learned, from bringing a life into this world to take it away before it has a chance to live? You've spent years of your life worshipping God, praising Him, offering Him your life to do what He may, and He chose to take your child? What could possibly be the lesson here? You know that God gave His only Son up for you. At the same time Christ lived, and lives. God was able to see His Son grow, God was able to see Christ no matter what or where He was, because God knows and see's all. God was able to call Christ back to Him, you don't have that option. The only time you've had with your child was the time they spent inside of you. Your child was not even given the chance to live. God brought His Son to Him, God took your child from you. People will tell you that God did not take your child from you, that was Satan trying to pull you from God, and Satan chose to take your child's life. Then you think of the Bible saying that nothing can happen to you that does not go through God Himself. So why would God then allow this? Despite the fact that you wish you you could doubt Him, you wish that you could find it in yourself to pretend God wasn't there, you can't. All that's left for you to do is accept. All that's left is for you to hold God to His promise, that you will see your child again in Heaven. All that's left is for you to continue living your life for God, knowing that God will not lie, and that He keeps His word. People mean well when they tell you "He's in a better place", what they don't know is how you long to be there too. People mean well, but they don't know that sometimes all that keeps you going is knowing that God has promised you a place in Heaven, and it's only there you will see your child again.
Everyone tells you "this isn't your fault". How is this NOT your fault? How do you get over the fact that it was your body that let this child down? How are you supposed to get through the day knowing that it was your body that killed your child? It was your cervix that wouldn't hold on tight enough. It was your cervix that opened too soon. It was your body that let this happen. It was your body that kicked your baby out too many weeks too soon. They tell you that there was nothing you could have done. How do they know? How could you not know that something was wrong, it was your body after all? How come you couldn't feel that the baby's life was in danger. It was your job to protect this child, to grow this life, to bring this baby into the world ready to go. It was your body that let his life be put in danger. It was your body that caused his life to end early. Nobody tells you that if there was anything in this world you felt the need to apologize for it would be the fact that you failed your child when it mattered most.