A Little Warning

You know what would be great? If people would give you a little warning before they announce their pregnancies to you after your baby dies. You know, something like “What I’m about to tell you is going to rip your heart out and make you wish you were dead, and I’m only telling you because I’m selfish and inconsiderate and obviously have zero compassion for you at all”. You know, something like that, so you can at least prepare yourself a bit before telling them you never want to speak to them again. That would be nice. 

It's amazing to me how many people say "I know you don't want to hear this but...". Really, if you already know than what are you doing? You think acknowledging it before-hand makes it okay? Really?

Let me explain something to you: the baby I love, the baby I wanted, the baby I carried for 35 weeks: He died. So why do you think I’m ever going to be happy that you’re getting everything that was stolen from me? I won’t be. 

Call me a jerk, call me mean, whatever. You'd understand if your baby died. 

It’s great that you think you’re invincible, that you will magically be the person whose baby won’t have a fluke condition, or die in any one of the thousands of ways babies die every single day. It’s great you think "that only happens to other people" (like me). But guess what? No one it happened to was expecting it either. None of us ever thought for one moment it would be us. Too bad death doesn’t care what you believe. And – I hate to burst your bubble – no amount of you eating well, exercising, seeking medical attention, praying or having a positive attitude can save you from that fate. If death chooses your baby, you’ll be left helpless, just like me. So, sorry, I can’t stand by and pretend to be happy when I know the truth. It can – and does – just end sometimes. And you’ll never be the same again.

For you, it’s all about cute baby clothes, registering for gifts, planning a shower and picking a “super cute and perfect” name. For me, it was nightmarish appointments, panic-attacks, planning a funeral and begging God every second of every day to save my baby’s life, only to have it end in a nightmare of labor, surgery and separation. To live forever with a massive hole in my life and heart.

Maybe it’s because my experience with pregnancy is that it ends in lifelong heartache, maybe it’s because I know I’ll never be blissfully unaware like most woman are during pregnancy, maybe it’s because I refuse to pretend to be happy for your sake while secretly hurting inside. Maybe it’s because my soul screams out in agony at the injustice of it all. Whatever it is, please know: when you tell me you’re pregnant, all you’re doing is adding to my hurt.

So, maybe, just keep it to yourself. Announce it on your blog, your page, your whatever. But when you have that urge to email me, to text me, to call, or message me, just remember that it’s only for your benefit and the only outcome will be me hurting more and removing you from my life.

Honestly, if the worst thing that happens to you during your pregnancy is that you can’t announce it to me, I don’t think you have anything to cry about.