Pregnancy and Infant Loss Remembrance Day
Today is Pregnancy and Infant loss Remembrance Day. I’m grateful this day is on my calendar as it acknowledges and holds space for the unimaginable grief experienced by a woman, by a birthing person, by their partner and their closest family members. I keep a tight knit group of friends and it saddens me to say that most of them have experienced or had a close relationship with a pregnancy loss, a failed round of IVF, a miscarriage, a termination for medical reasons, a loss of a multiple, a stillborn. To be honest, most of the time I didn’t know what to say or do, so I just did what felt right with that particular person. I cried with them, I brought food to them, I hugged them, I tried to bring a little joy when it seemed appropriate, I took their dogs for walks, I listened to them, I would reflect alone afterwards. These transformational life events happened at all times of the year for my friends today is a day that I can pay my respects those angel babies as well as reach out to my wonderful dear friends who have somehow, in their own unique ways, have learned to live and grow in their grief.
When I was taking my doula training, I wanted to know how to be more supportive for birthing people, their partners and potentially their older children during a pregnancy loss or infant loss. My amazing trainer suggested I read a book called Ghost Belly by Elizabeth Heineman. So, I downloaded it on my phone and read it albeit very slowly as it is a raw personal account of a woman grieving the death of her stillborn baby boy. Although I originally hoped for a “how to manual” , which it is not. I quickly realized that this was exactly what I needed, to get uncomfortable with infant loss and really feel all the feels around it so that I could hold that space for the birthing couple and their older children. It is heavy, descriptive, and visceral as the writer unpacks her grief in an unconventional way. I’ve decided to write a little review the book here on the blog today as I want highlight that the human experience in regards to grief is not so textbookie and it truly carries a personal roadmap for each person.
The first two lines in the book is simple but powerful to me, “It was all so long ago. It was yesterday”. These lines remind me that the grieving process is something we get better at living with as time goes on, yet we still remember it all so vividly. After these opening lines, Elizabeth or Lisa as she refers to herself in her book, writes about her labour and home birth, which seemed to start like a typical labour and progressed quickly like often second labours do. Lisa had an experienced midwife and attentive partner, but her birth story took a turn quickly and she was rushed to the hospital in a separate ambulance, while the paramedics worked on her newborn in another.
As she is in the hospital waiting to see her baby, whom she knows now is dead, she apologizes over and over again to her partner and then she asks herself a very important question “How do you make sure your baby who died an hour before he was born is not nothing?”. This question is so unique to parents experiencing infant loss as it seems to fall somewhere in between wanting to remember your child yet knowing your child’s personal memories were from the womb only. Lisa then answers this initial question with several more such as, “Do you do it by granting him experiences and preferences from the days before he was born? And “Do you do it by writing about him”? I believe this is what makes pregnancy and infant loss so hard, you’re trying to honour a life that hasn’t come to fruition and grieve the loss at the same time, therefore the grief process is muddled. When she’s allowed to hold her son, she bargains with the medical professionals for more time so that her older son and other important family members are able to meet her son, now named Thor. She is able to snuggle, admire, whisper and love on her son for 6 six hours. And although the hospital staff went above and beyond for Lisa it wasn’t enough for her, she wanted more time, she wanted to bond with her son. When Thor was resting in the funeral home, Lisa and her partner Glenn couldn’t decide on the right time for the memorial service and it was decided that Thor will be embalmed while they took their time making all the necessary arrangements. The kindly and sympathetic funeral director lovingly nicknamed “Uncle Mike” allowed Lisa to visit as often as she wanted and even allowed Lisa to take Thor home. She took Thor for walks in her baby carrier, read to him, showed him around the house, let him ‘sleep’ in his bassinet, took him to the park and finally showed him where he will be buried. It was definitely an unconventional way to grief, but it allowed Lisa to build memories with Thor before he was put to rest 12 days after his birth.
As I moved through the book, I was, at times, ‘in it’ with Lisa and I understood her as she questioned her choices around home birth, her midwife, her advanced maternal age and what she could’ve done differently. She moves through the stages of grief in a nonlinear fashion, which was at times messy. She ebbs and flows between guilt and blame, acceptance and anger. She references how her ghostbelly dissolves and then reappears especially when she is most vulnerable. It’s a book that will stay with me forever, reminding me of the painful and sacred place that infant loss brings to a person and their family. A must read for anyone in birthwork.
For my friends and anyone reading this who is living in this space, I see you and honour your grieving process, whatever that looks like for you.
If you live in Nova Scotia and you or someone you know needs support through this please contact Glenn Breen at the IWK Pregnancy and Newborn Loss 902 470 7722.
