Miscarriage Mondays

I have alot more to say about fertility and miscarriage and all that jazz. Much more. But it is hard to write about it, though I know that writing helps me process what has happened and is happening, as well as helps others who might be going through something similar. I also am starting to have other things I think about (yay! It can happen). As a result of this, I am going to start regulating fertility and miscarriage posts to Mondays, so that I feel free to blog a bit more about whatever is on my mind - without this pressure of trying to get all I think about this sucky fertility mess out in the open all at once. Also, taking my Lorazepam after I write is putting a damper on my days and Jason comes home wondering why the house is a disaster, the dogs are running wild, dinner isn't made and I am passed out at 5:30. hmmm...

This Miscarriage Monday post is about how to help when someone you care about miscarries.

I have posted before about statements made (really by well-meaning people) that really DID NOT help me survive the loss of Wild Thing. I realize that I have been focusing a lot on the pain and trauma of losing a baby (because really, most of the time, all you feel is pain and trauma), but I thought I might take a moment to offer up some ideas of things that helped Jason and I get through the past month or so. We have wonderful, thoughtful friends and family and I don't know how I could have survived without their prayers and support.

Here are what friends did that worked for us and our personal experience. These ideas might not work for everyone, because everyone is unique - as is each loss, so I'll accompany each example with a general guideline that can best help you decide how you can support and bless your friend:

1. Be specific and take action. Alot of people offered up the, "Is there anything I can do?" phrase with a true desire to help in any way. The problem was that we were so consumed with grief that we could barely get out of bed let alone reflect on what could help us or be bold enough to name it. I am the kind of person that does not like to ask for help in any way (outside of my poor manservant aka. husband) so I will generally just reply with, "No, thank you. Thanks for thinking of me, though" even though there is probably things that people could do and want to do for me. And the truth is, we didn't KNOW what could help us. Somehow, my friend Amy knew this. She texted me (because I WAS NOT taking calls) a day or so after Wild Thing died and said, "I am bringing you dinner." How could we refuse? There is no way that someone will resist the offer of food - if they don't eat it, fine, but at least it is there, and during a miscarriage (or any trauma), the likelihood is that the family is not eating well, if at all. Amy was specific and immediate in what she did for us. She brought us her famous spaghetti that night, along with green beans, bread, dessert and flowers. It was the first good meal I had eaten in a long time and it made me feel better. Amy didn't force me to talk (even though I did) but listened and said all the right things (some listed down below). Even more friends sent flowers, cards, and Facebook messages. My friend Aja and her husband walked the dogs for us. The point is - I could have never expressed that I needed help or what things would make me feel better. People were proactive and did what they could, while still respecting my privacy, and that made all the difference.

2. Take some time. My dear friend and teaching partner Aja (mom to Bentley and soon-to-be-born baby girl) must have developed some good calf and thigh muscle during the weeks following Wild Thing's death, because we did ALOT of walking. She took so much time with me (most every night) as we walked the dogs and talked about Wild Thing. She loved him as much as Jason and I did, as she knew his personality just as well (i.e. his affinity for mangoes, his 5:30 wake up time, his punky little attitude). It helped to have someone listen, and it made me feel supported and loved. Two of the main things that Aja and my other friends said that helped and validated my grieving process were:

• "You lost a baby." Wild Thing was not "fetal tissue" (urrrgg. makes me want to punch a WALL). He WAS our baby, and it helped to have people reinforce that so I felt comfortable expressing my loss. Grieving over "tissue" is craziness, grieving over a baby is expected and accepted.
  
• "You will miss him forever and will never be the same." This helped me feel like I didn't have a timeline on my grief. I think that after a few weeks of being a total nut case, you start to question how much patience people will have for you and for how long. Jason and my friends telling me this helped me settle in and accept the grieving process and let my emotions unfold in their own time.
  

3. Think outside the box. My sister is in law school and my mom was in the middle of tax season. They didn't really have time, and I was not in the place where I could really talk about it or wanted to see anyone anyway. To help, my sister scheduled me a cranial sacral massage - she found a massage therapist, contacted her, explained the situation, set up an appointment, paid and told me where to go. All I had to do is show up. My sister can be a biatch sometimes and most of the time it is a pain because she is so bossy, but at that moment, I needed someone to think of unique ways that might help me while still respecting my need to heal in my own private way (so no suggestions of group therapy sessions, etc.) And it was through this massage therapist that I found Dawn-Starr, my angel acupuncturist. Have I mentioned that I LURVE her?

4. Come out of the woodwork. My friend Laura sent me a Facebook message after Wild Thing's death that helped me so much. She told me what to expect during my miscarriage, and that took a bit of the fear away and helped me feel more in control of the situation. Other friends (including parents of my students and Jason's coworkers) came forward with their stories and support. I realized that women who have suffered a loss, sadly often silently and privately, are the ones who can best empower their hurting friend with information and emotional solidarity. Laura also sent me a care package with items that helped her during her losses including Hannah's Hope (a book about the Biblical character Hannah who suffered infertility) and chocolate. So if you haven't shared your story before, maybe you should consider doing so, as tough as it is, in order to help heal another woman.

5. Help her remember. My friend Shanda (mom of my godsons, friend since kinder) bought me a necklace off of Etsy that has a pendant with a scene from Where the Wild Things Are. She bought it in remembrance of Wild Thing, so that I could always carry him with me. This was so touching to me. You might be afraid of offering up something so personal in fear that it will cause the person more pain, but in this case, knowing that I had some physical and tangible token representing him made me feel more powerful in a situation that makes the mother feel very helpless and debilitated. Even to the point of me thinking, "I DO have something to show for my baby" as not being recognized as a mother was and is something that brings me suffering. There are alot of sites that offer miscarriage jewelry, but even something as small as a poem in a frame might help your friend.

Above all else, respect your friend's need for privacy. It was a very long time (weeks) before I could see or even talk to most people. I couldn't even tell people I had miscarried - if not for this blog or my friends/family passing on the news, I would have suffered in hiding. It goes back to not even knowing what I was feeling at the time and having such strong, raw emotions that I thought for sure that no one (again, except for my humble manservant) could handle their intensity. I couldn't handle their intensity most of the time. My advice is, ultimately, do not force your friend to talk to or see you. She will approach you when she feels safe and when she knows how or what to share about her experience.

Okay, now to go pop some pills.