thinking about miscarriage
it’s odd, having a reasonable ability to write, to find that i can experience something, feel something, but that does not immediately translate into knowing how to communicate that thing. i doubt i’m going to be able to say what i want to say in a single post. or at least, say it in a single post that i find interesting enough to hit the “publish” button on.
and i’d like to communicate that thing. because while the individual experience of miscarriage is highly personal – no two women, or couples, or triads, or families of any configuration, or what have you, go through it the same way (and as i now know, one woman doesn’t go through it the same way twice) – there’s also a universality of experience. miscarriage is common. one in five pregnancies overall end in miscarriage. in my age bracket, it’s more like one in four. it is not an uncommon thing.
it’s so common, in fact, that most people i know have either experienced it firsthand, or know someone close to them who has. and yet no one talks about it. hell, i’ve gone through two, and i’m still not sure how to talk about it. some days, i’m so divorced from the emotions that it feels like it happened to someone else. other days, the sight of a hugely pregnant woman reduces me to tears.
but how to talk about it? what is the loss? what is the value, the hope, the expectation, that suddenly springs forth when you miss your period or piss on a stick and watch a (+) sign slowly fade in across a plastic window? what are the dreams that are born when you find yourself thinking about everything you should and should not be doing – not for yourself, but for the zygote or embryo or fetal pole that has taken up residence in your body? and what happens to all that when it is, just as suddenly, missing?
as i thought about it, back in May, and then more intensely over the last eight weeks, i realized that to answer any of that for myself, i have to go back to the beginning. the genesis of all this. to a decision i made when i was about three years old: i did not want to have children.
September 28th, 2009 at 12:31 pm
Linda Layne has a good book about pregnancy loss — I think it’s called Motherhood Lost? — if reading this sort of cultural/social/medical anthropology is helpful. (This is what I often turn to for help in how to frame complex thoughts and emotions.) I’ve read excerpts and heard her talk about it at a conference a few years back.
Also, I think that what you’ve written here communicates a lot all ready, and quite eloquently.