October 15th, Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Day

“How very quietly you tiptoed into our world, silently, only a moment you stayed. But what an imprint your footprints have left upon our hearts.”  -Unknown.

This post is dedicated to all parents who have experienced the earth-shattering heartache that is pregnancy and infant loss,  to the millions of women who are longing to hold a “rainbow baby” in their arms, to the couples who struggle to find peace and understanding within their relationship after loss, and to those tiny little babies who leave this world much too soon.    I am opening up today to bring awareness to this often silent grief that plagues so many women.   I have personally lost two pregnancies this year, and after the second I felt a deep need to write about it.  Writing has helped me tremendously, and slowly, I have shared my posts with my husband, and my friends and family.  Today, I am sharing with a greater audience- not to receive accolades or pity, but to reach those who are silently struggling, and to help their loved ones understand the depths of this type of loss.

Today is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness day.  In 1988, President Ronald Reagan declared that October would be known as Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month.   He is remembered for saying these words, “When a child loses his parent, they are called an orphan.  When a spouse loses her or his partner, they are called a widow or widower.  When parents lose their child, there isn’t a word to describe them. This month recognizes the loss so many parents experience across the United States and around the world.”

For 28 years now, the movement of breaking the silence and raising awareness about infant loss has been growing.  The most heart breaking of times for parents have slowly been shared more and more, to connect with others who are experiencing the same pain, and to bring it to light for those who are naive to the fact that not every pregnancy has a happy ending.

I have shared many stories of my NICU career over the years with friends and family. (while keeping HIPPA in mind, of course.)  I’ll never forget the day that one of my friends asked me, “what did the mom do wrong?”  I had been telling her about a very special baby with a congenital heart defect who also happened to be extremely premature.  “What did the mom do wrong?”  She took her prenatal vitamins every day, had adequate prenatal care and wanted a baby more than anything.  That’s what she did. This friend was completely ignorant to the fact that not every baby is born without complications.  It horrified me.  Do some people really believe that babies “with problems” happen because of something a mother did or didn’t do?

Pregnancy and infant loss is not selective.  It happens in all countries, at all ages, in all types of women- healthy and unhealthy.  It happens during birth sometimes.  It happens in the earliest weeks of pregnancy.  It happens for no known reason during the middle of pregnancy.  It happens after a premature birth and weeks of fighting to survive in the NICU.  It happens a week after going home.  Pregnancy and infant loss just happens at random.  If all babies were created out of love and desired by their parents, then there would not be foster care, adoption or abortion.  If all babies went to “deserving” mothers, wouldn’t that just be wonderful?  If babies weren’t born addicted to the drugs that their mother’s were taking during pregnancy, wouldn’t that be fantastic?  But P.A.I.L. happens.  It is unfair, and often unknown as to why.  These parents are left broken, often wondering themselves if they did something wrong- wondering if they could have done something to prevent the brutal heartache that is losing a child, or a dream of a child.

I see all kinds of babies born at my job-babies who are wholeheartedly desired,  babies who have been “fought and prayed for,” babies who have been conceived during a one night stand.  All babies are born equal, and no baby is exempt from loss.  Someone once told me that babies are gifts who are loaned to us on Earth- they are never truly “ours.”   They can be taken at random, leaving their loved ones devastated, and asking the famous question, “WHY?”

Some of these premature babies have touched my life forever.  Premature labor happens often for no reason, or for a reason beyond a mother’s control.  Tiny lives are brought into this world much too soon, and often do not survive the hardship of trying to utilize organs to their max potential before they are finished forming.  Some of these parents are there, holding merely just a finger because their baby is too unstable to get out of bed.  And then, some babies after putting up  a brutal fight slowly slip away, leaving their parents and loved ones wanting so much more.  Words are inadequate to describe the type of pain these warrior parents go through.

We broken ones, we need support.  We need space.  We need your presence and your prayers.  We need time.  What we don’t need is your pity.  After it took a lot of courage for me to share about my first miscarriage, someone’s response to me was, “I just feel so sorry for you.”  I wanted to scream. What they should have said instead, and probably meant to say was, “I’m so sorry.”  I knew they meant well, but really? “I just feel so sorry for you,” sounds like pity. I don’t want to be pitied.  I want to be listened to, and I want to be treated as your equal still.  I am not “less than,” just because your pregnancy was uncomplicated and your countless baby pictures flood my news feed.

What can you do if someone you know has struggled with P.A.I.L?

You show up for them.

You text them and tell them that you might not say the right thing, but that you want to try.

You listen to them, sometimes multiple times about how they are hurting, how they told their partner that they were pregnant, how they felt when they knew they would miscarry, how they are feeling today, and the day after, and the day after that.  You ask them to tell you about it, and then you genuinely listen. You do not need to experience PAIL to make a difference for someone who has.

You do not tell them, “everything happens for a reason.”  That sounds like crap to someone who desires a baby more than anything.  What reason is there that your baby was born healthy and mine wasn’t?

You do not tell them to “relax, and it will happen,” when they share with you that they are ready to try conceive again. They know this.  They know that trying too hard and stressing about and focusing on conception actually lessens their chances of conceiving each month.  They know this thoroughly, but the desire to have a child growing inside them again is so fierce that they chase after conception with intensity.  The fear that they will never hold their child in their arms overtakes their common sense and reasoning.  Just listen.

You talk to them about other things besides babies and pregnancy.  I was personally so grateful for the few friends I had who were not in the baby making phase of their life.  Talking to them about other life goals and events made me feel half normal again, realizing that a child is not everything in this world.

If they are brave enough to post something on social media about their struggle to have a family, LIKE IT.  What, you feel awkward because you have a child and have been posting endlessly about your joy? LIKE their post anyways.  This is not about you.  This is about their guts to put themselves out there. This is about them feeling validated in an ocean of bump pictures- about them feeling valued during their time of grief and confusion.

Send flowers and cards.  Some days I woke up and wondered if any of it really happened.  The flowers acknowledged that there was truly a loss to be honored- that there was loss of a child, loss of a dream.

This post is not meant to make anyone feel guilty.  Maybe you are a private person who got through PAIL without sharing on social media.  You are amazing.  I personally needed to post.  I was so grateful that I could reach out to those select few friends who posted about their losses on social media when I was going through immediate grief.  I read, and reread their posts, feeling connected to the PAIL community during a time when I felt so alone.  Maybe you have one, two, or more healthy children and you feel guilty that this happened to one of your friends, so much so that it keeps you from reaching out.  That hurts way more than your bump and baby pictures.  Make an effort to reach out to those experiencing PAIL.  They don’t want you out of their life.  Your silence to them feels like pity.  Just try.

A big THANK YOU goes out to my amazing friends and family who did reach out and have continued to ask me how I am doing on a regular basis. Thank you for being patient and giving me space at first, and thank you for encouraging me to put myself out there.

At 7pm tonight, I will join in the millions of people around the world in lighting a candle in honor of those little loved ones who were lost too soon.  They were so desired and so loved in whatever brief amount of time their parents shared with them.

To start at the beginning of my journey,  Click Here