Miscarriage effects more than just the person carrying the pregnancy. My miscarriage had a marked ripple effect to which all of my nearest and dearest were subject (sorry, peeps). I have been ever-so-gently badgering my best friend Jeremy (everyone's favorite Ever Forward Blog recurring character) to do a Guest Blog entry because I think it is so important for the friends and family of those who miscarry to have a voice in this as well. I figured if my best friend was going to have to pick up crumpled tissues, and make me tea, and listen to totally irrational panic and profound grief, the LEAST I could do is offer a forum in which his perspective could be heard. And if you are out there reading this because your friend, or sister, or coworker just went through a miscarriage, I think it's important to know you are not alone in that confusing, sensitive, and heart wrenching position. I know that I, for one, could not have gotten though this experience without Jeremy's support and the support of so many of my friends. I am also not blind to the fact that his support didn't exist without some personal emotional cost. In my opinion, to be a support to someone going through this, it is not about saying the "right thing", it's not about understanding everything fully, it's just about being fully present with your friend and sometimes in order to do that, your friend needs to be fully present with their own experience of your miscarriage. I think that's why Jeremy was able to be such a rock for me. The role of the friend in the midst of this particular type of heartbreak is so crucial and should be honored. I asked Jeremy to share his story of my miscarriage and I hope once the dust has settled in your situation, you ask your friends to do the same. Their personal experience of it and their perspective, just like their presence, is a pathway to healing.
Without further ado I will hand the mic over to my BFF-4-Eva (that's what our matching heart necklaces say, at least), Jeremy :
Sometimes it feels like time is moving without our permission.
I remember the first call; the one where they told me the good news.
The whole family joyously shouting in the background as Becca and Chris told me over the little iPhone screen (I was out of town and they couldn't wait) that after some time of “not trying” (sure. if you say so), it happened. We were going to have a baby (yes, I said “we”). I did the best I could to show the picture of excitement to my expecting best friends and when we hung up, overwhelmed, I cried; one of many private moments I’ve had over the past year.
Cue old wives tales: Don’t tell people until "x" amount of time has passed. Don’t buy baby clothes, toys, books, etc. Ancient ways of tricking the universe because apparently Mother Nature hates a premature celebration.
I remember another call; the one where the news changed.
I waited at one of our favorite cafe’s while they went to that fateful sonogram, imagining that being in one of our “holy places” would shift the pending news positively.
The phone rang. I said something. She said something. And that was it.
I sprang up and rushed to the train, tears streaming without permission.
Impatiently sitting on the F-train I tried to play the story out in my head:
1. I will run up the steps. 2. I will throw my arms around her. 3. We will cry. 4. We will be strong.
We did all of the above.
And as quickly as we were celebrating, we were mourning.
Moving (ever) forward means accepting that this experience is now part of you, no matter your role in the story (be it husband, parent, friend). From a friend's perspective, sometimes it means giving yourself permission to own your experience of the trauma even though it is not your womb in question. That doesn't take away from the friend you are supporting, rather it makes your bond and your ability to connect and help even stronger.
Moving (ever) forward means being brave enough to ask for what you need. Every day is not only about building the world we want, but learning how to live in the world we’ve got.
And most importantly, moving (ever) forward means it’s okay to welcome grief into your home, but that doesn’t mean you have to remodel, or build him a new wing. He is a guest. Be hospitable and gentle, and know that soon enough he will leave, and you can put everything back where it belongs.
Continue moving (ever) forward. It’s really all any of us can do.
Without further ado I will hand the mic over to my BFF-4-Eva (that's what our matching heart necklaces say, at least), Jeremy :
Sometimes it feels like time is moving without our permission.
I remember the first call; the one where they told me the good news.
The whole family joyously shouting in the background as Becca and Chris told me over the little iPhone screen (I was out of town and they couldn't wait) that after some time of “not trying” (sure. if you say so), it happened. We were going to have a baby (yes, I said “we”). I did the best I could to show the picture of excitement to my expecting best friends and when we hung up, overwhelmed, I cried; one of many private moments I’ve had over the past year.
Cue old wives tales: Don’t tell people until "x" amount of time has passed. Don’t buy baby clothes, toys, books, etc. Ancient ways of tricking the universe because apparently Mother Nature hates a premature celebration.
I remember another call; the one where the news changed.
I waited at one of our favorite cafe’s while they went to that fateful sonogram, imagining that being in one of our “holy places” would shift the pending news positively.
The phone rang. I said something. She said something. And that was it.
I sprang up and rushed to the train, tears streaming without permission.
Impatiently sitting on the F-train I tried to play the story out in my head:
1. I will run up the steps. 2. I will throw my arms around her. 3. We will cry. 4. We will be strong.
We did all of the above.
And as quickly as we were celebrating, we were mourning.
Moving (ever) forward means accepting that this experience is now part of you, no matter your role in the story (be it husband, parent, friend). From a friend's perspective, sometimes it means giving yourself permission to own your experience of the trauma even though it is not your womb in question. That doesn't take away from the friend you are supporting, rather it makes your bond and your ability to connect and help even stronger.
Moving (ever) forward means being brave enough to ask for what you need. Every day is not only about building the world we want, but learning how to live in the world we’ve got.
And most importantly, moving (ever) forward means it’s okay to welcome grief into your home, but that doesn’t mean you have to remodel, or build him a new wing. He is a guest. Be hospitable and gentle, and know that soon enough he will leave, and you can put everything back where it belongs.
Continue moving (ever) forward. It’s really all any of us can do.
RSS Feed
