Awareness

I was hoping to make this post in October but somehow didn't get it done. Today I received an email from a woman in San Diego whose friend just lost her triplets on Saturday. I knew it was time to make this post. I am thankful she contacted me as I will always feel a deep kinship with mothers who have also lost triplets. I have read countless blogs and forums from triplet mothers and each testimony helps in knowing I am not alone.

October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month. I spent the month really thinking about awareness and the importance of it. All thoughts go back to one main idea - sharing your story. I have learned and benefited and at times been carried by the stories of those who not only lost their children but who have not been able to have children of their own. These stories have helped me to feel less alone. They helped me understand the pain of infant loss is real. They have humbled me. I have been awakened to a world that is not as innocent and fair as it appears to be. Some stories seemed to be sadly repeated over and over while others blew me away. Each story was unique and personal, and some downright shocking.....

I had not seen my grandparents between the time that I had the boys and their funeral. As I walked up to them at the cemetery the first thing my grandpa said was, "We have a little boy buried right down there." What! I'm 31 years old. Except for 6 years of my life, I have lived within 12 miles of my grandparents and I was never told of this little boy, Rodney, who would have been my uncle.

As we lay with our three boys in the delivery room our deacon, who had been with us most of the morning, said, "I don't know what you're going through right now but I lost all 5 of my babies." I have no idea how she was able to sit and comfort us that day. It pains me to think about it. In the hospital that night our priest told us that he and his wife lost their third child. We also learned two of Aaron's grandmas lost children to miscarriage. By the time we went home from the hospital there were at least five people who had come out of the woodwork - I knew this was just the beginning. As my friend Magaly said, "You're now part of a club you didn't want to join." So true.

In the weeks after the boy's death I received cards and emails from several women I have known for many years, all sharing with me that they too had lost a child. Women, and men, who have carried this around most of their adult lives in silence were now saying, "Welcome to our club." It was as though I thought I was walking alone through a deep dark forest and people started slowly emerging from hiding. I am thankful for each and every one of these parents for contacting me because each story lessened my pain and allowed me a community in which to grieve.

Perhaps the stories that have humbled me the most are from those who have tried their damnedest to have children and for whatever reason have not been able to conceive. As one of my new friends said, "FAIR is a four letter word in our house." They have opened my eyes to the quiet suffering infertility creates that is often overlooked by the joy of adoption. While adoption may be a choice for some, it is the last hope for many after all other attempts have failed. And why does this happen to some of the best people I know? How about the story of another friend who after 10 years of fertility treatments, scars on her abdomen from all the shots, twenty pounds of extra weight from all the medications, 28 fertilized eggs - and she and her husband have one little miracle boy. Perseverance - I think so. These are stories I never would have had the privilege of hearing had I not suffered myself. I earned the right to hear them because I have found people are reluctant to share with you when you're unscathed in life.

Awareness is sharing your story. Sharing it for so many reasons that heal and give hope to a world in pain. This is tough stuff. This breaks up marriages, this makes people bitter, this medicates people. It is only though healthy sharing that we begin to heal and are able to better support those around us who suffer.

JK Rowlings gave the commencement address to Harvard students in 2008. She talked about two themes, one of them being imagination. Here is a quote that I thought about this past month while pondering the theme of awareness:

"Imagination is not only the uniquely human capacity to envision that which is not, and therefore the fount of all invention and innovation. In its arguably most transformative and revelatory capacity, it is the power that enables us to empathize with humans whose experiences we have never shared."

Maybe awareness is about expanding our imagination. It is helping someone who does not know the depths of child loss begin to try to understand the pain their friends and family members feel. The stories broaden our imagination - we begin to understand pregnancy and birth and life with new undertones and character. We also begin to understand the suffering of all people with a new perspective and hope our expanded imagination will make us more compassionate human beings.

Awareness. I think about all those women of my grandmother's generation and before who were told the best way to heal is to act like it never happened. Who were lead to believe nobody cared and that they should not burden society with their story. I think about the women of my generation who have dealt with loss in silence putting on a happy face and downplaying their hurt only to be dying inside. Pregnancy and Infant loss affects 2,000 people in the USA everyday and each person has a story. I am so happy my story has helped connect me to others and lead me to new friendships. I am thankful for every person who has so graciously shared their story with me. Whether you contacted me in private or I just read your story on a blog or online forum- sharing your story has helped my heart to heal.