Beyond Pregnancy Loss: From Heartbreak To Healing

Author

AUTHOR’S PREFACE

Whatever good things we build end up building us.

Jim Rohn

Like many others, I always knew that I had a book (or two) in me, the challenge was to decide what I would write about. In August 2009 I sat with my mentor, feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement, discussing the list of ten or more options that I had identified as potential best sellers. As he looked down the list I could see him dismissing each option mentally, and on reaching the bottom he looked directly at me, paused, and took a deep breath. My nervousness increased and my excitement quickly faded. After a few moments he asked, Why aren’t you writing about something that you are emotionally connected to, something you have personally experienced?

My mindset was focused on business, human resources and wealth creation options, all of which I had personally experienced, so completely dumbfounded I asked what he meant. Why not write about your experience of losing a baby? he said. I was taken aback. Why on earth would I do that? I quickly responded. Have you got something to say about it? he asked. Well, umm yes, I said with hesitation, But why would anyone want to hear what I have to say? Why wouldn’t they?, he retorted. There was only one way to find out.

So began another chapter in my journey towards discovering my purpose.

The process started slowly. I was highly effective at procrastinating. I drafted outline after outline, changed the chapter headings a dozen times, worried about completely unnecessary and irrelevant things and then finally took some action. I started my research by creating a website and questionnaire for women and men who had experienced this type of loss. I wanted to seek guidance and get some idea of what others had experienced in the hope that I would also discover what people might want to read about.

I had no idea how profound this entire experience would be (and still is) for me. I was attending a conference where my pending book had been mentioned in passing by the facilitator. At the break I had over a dozen men and women thank me for starting along this path. They began to share with me stories of their loss as if they were desperate to find someone who knew, who understood. I was overwhelmed. A colleague and friend of mine asked if I would like her to share her story. I stared at her in disbelief as she told me about the loss of her little girl over 18 years previously, only a few weeks prior to her due date. We talked for an hour over lunch, and from that moment a shift occurred for both of us in different ways. Rose stepped on to a rollercoaster ride of emotions. She became acutely aware of how this experience was still impacting on her life, how it had held her back from being the person she knew she could be for nearly two decades. She became my inspiration to keep going. My heart ached as I observed her realisation of how immersed in grief she still was, and the sadness that came with her awareness that she had not only lost a daughter, she had somehow lost herself along the way.

There was no coincidence in the collision of our paths. We had come into each other’s lives as catalysts for growth and healing. While the road we each needed to take was different we both knew that our lives would be connected in some way from this point forward. As Rose recommenced her journey from heartbreak to healing I started along a different path - a path that was less about my own pregnancy loss and more about my need to re-connect with others. I continued with a great deal of fear about how this experience would affect me.

Within six weeks I had received over 500 responses to my survey. I was overcome with emails of gratitude. Many women were writing to me thanking me for simply asking them to share their story, something they had never been asked to do before, even by their closest friends and family. I was shocked and saddened. Why could a complete stranger provide more comfort to these women than their own family?

It was then that I realised I wasn’t a stranger. I was inextricably connected to many beautiful people. It became clear to me that my purpose was not simply to write this book. My purpose was to become more of myself, to become comfortable in my own skin, to accept the beacon of light that I had within me and to shine this light unconditionally.

And so my story continues…

The joy of pregnancy and birth creates a wonderful connection between people from varying backgrounds and generations. There is a certain warmth and appeal about a pregnant woman that seems to draw out our instinctive desire to care and nurture, and the charm of a new baby can reduce a normally articulate person to speak in a language that would rarely be heard around a boardroom table.

While we openly welcome and participate in the celebrations of new life arriving, there is another side to pregnancy which is often overlooked. A quarter of all pregnancies result in the loss of the baby¹, often for unknown reasons, before full term. An early loss (before 20 weeks) is commonly called miscarriage, and a loss later than this is known as stillbirth.

It is difficult to describe how the loss of a baby during pregnancy feels because it can be a very different experience for every one of us. It is difficult to write a ‘one size fits all’ book about what to do and how to feel, so I have captured stories from women and men around the world to highlight the mixed thoughts, feelings and experiences that can occur during and after this tragic loss. Regardless of the gestation, every reaction and every emotion is valid when faced with such an unexpected event, so this book is written from the heart, making no assumptions and passing no judgement.

The stories I have been privileged to hear during my research are absolutely heartbreaking. Many can also be surprisingly uplifting because along with the experience of such a loss often comes a deeper understanding of the delicacy of the process of conception and the risks of pregnancy. This awareness fosters a greater respect and appreciation for the preciousness of life.

All pregnancy losses come as a shock. Even those who have experienced more than one loss do not embark on the second or subsequent pregnancy with the expectation that they will again lose their baby. The responses cannot be predicted or planned. There is no single reaction to the loss of a baby at any stage during a pregnancy.

The significance that individuals place on each loss can also be different. Some responses are matter of fact and philosophical while others leave us immersed in grief for lengthy periods of time. Most are somewhere in between. The challenge is to have faith (in ourselves) that we are responding in the way we need to.

When we experience pregnancy loss we can’t tell if we are responding in the right way because we have no point of reference. We aren’t trained to behave in a particular way and there are no internal mechanisms to guide us. People who experience a very similar loss can respond completely differently, while people who have had vastly different experiences can respond similarly. There is simply no right or wrong way to deal with this because there is no single destination at which we all must arrive.

The likelihood is that we have all known people who have had similar experiences to us but haven’t shared them, so we have precious little in terms of external guidance to provide us with a sense of how we could be feeling.

Without these internal or external guidance systems we find ourselves feeling completely alone with only our thoughts and emotions, which are often influenced by the rather callous but well-meaning responses of other people. We hear things like, It wasn’t meant to be, It was nature’s way and At least you know you can get pregnant. They all seem viable in a logical sense, but our hearts still feel lost, hurt and empty.

In one sense I wrote this book to bring a greater sense of validation and significance to this life-changing event. The opportunity to create something that might provide a source of comfort to anyone who had experienced pregnancy loss was too great a temptation for me to pass up.

Another consideration for me in writing this book was to create a greater awareness of the significance of this experience amongst those who haven’t been touched by it. I felt that facilitating knowingness, engagement and connection on this topic could only help others to gain some perspective and build a better understanding. With increasing awareness pregnancy loss can be openly acknowledged as an important part of the life journey, no more or less significant than any other loss we may experience. Greater awareness may also mean that it will no longer have to remain a silent sorrow.

The primary purpose of this book is to create a process to take those who have been touched by pregnancy loss from a place of heartbreak to a place of healing. A process that takes us away from the logical discussions taking place in our heads and into our very core. Why? Because our core is the place where our emotions exist, and it is therefore the only place where our healing can begin.

The flow of this book reflects the critical steps that we all face along the path of pregnancy loss. From the initial discovery that something is wrong, to how we communicate our sad news to family and friends and beyond. Each chapter is filled with excerpts of stories from people like you and I so that we can each find connection and validation regardless of our individual experiences.

I have chosen to share these stories with you (with approval from their owners) throughout this book because pregnancy loss is such an intense experience and we often don’t know how we ‘should’ feel about it. There is no right or wrong, but it does sometimes help to know what others like us have been through. The stories appear in italics throughout the book and are placed so that they illustrate the subject matter in the chapter.

For similar reasons I have also included my own story, broken down into sections at the beginning of each chapter. I hope that by sharing my story with you, I not only give you a unique insight into my perspective, but another point of reference for your own experience.

I use the words we and us, and in doing so I am speaking to anyone who has experienced this loss physically or emotionally. This book is for all of us. The term loss is used to encapsulate both single and multiple losses, and the term pregnancy loss is representative of miscarriages and stillbirths.

What differentiates this book from others are the self-awareness exercises at the end of each chapter. These very personal sections have been designed to provide us with an opportunity to gently and safely challenge ourselves along the path toward emotional healing. They contain questions that encourage us to explore the emotional links we have to that which has been discussed in the chapter and express those emotions when we are able. It is well worth keeping written notes of your observations when answering the questions, as you may like to reflect on them later.

In each of the self-awareness exercises, there is a reminder that this is about you. While feeling discomfort in this process is a sign of potential growth and increased awareness or understanding, it is important to remember at all times the importance of doing only what feels safe for you.

I initially set out to write this book for people who had experienced a pregnancy loss. In my discussions with the many who I have met in recent months I have come to understand that grandparents, aunts, uncles and close friends are often feeling similar levels of grief and anguish over the same loss. Their pain and sadness is very real and their need for guidance and support is just as valid.

Regardless of our situation, human nature dictates that we go outside of ourselves when we are looking for answers. This book is built upon the basic premise that we already have the answers within, we just need to learn how to access them. To achieve this what we often need is someone who doesn’t give us the answers, but rather guides us inward simply by asking the right questions.

Before we embark on the journey from heartbreak to healing, let me introduce you to the greatest teacher you will ever meet…you.

Thank you for trusting me and more importantly for trusting yourself.

____________________________

1 Garçia-Engúıdanosa, A., Calleb, J., Valeroc, S. & Lunaa, V. (2002). Risk factors in miscarriage: A review, The European Journal of Obstetrics & Gynaecology & Reproductive Biology. 102, 111–119.

My Story - A journey to emotional healing

Prior to 2006 I would have considered myself to be emotionally controlled. There weren’t many emotional peaks or troughs for me and I prided myself on being a ‘flat liner’ when it came to ‘doing life’. Of course, this didn’t mean that my emotions didn’t exist, I just felt that not showing them made me a stronger person. I was about to receive some life-changing lessons about emotions and the roller coaster ride that can begin with a single event -or in my case the presumption that an event would occur.

Each of our circumstances and stories are unique, and what sets my story apart is the timing of when my emotional healing journey began. The moment I heard the news that the genetic blood tests were showing a higher than expected probability of our baby having Down Syndrome, I knew without a shadow of a doubt what the outcome would be. This isn’t something I can explain even if I wanted to – I just knew.

I also knew the decision that my husband and I would make when the results were confirmed, so the outcome appeared certain and resistance seemed futile. Because of this, my emotional healing journey began two weeks before our loss physically occurred. Given that our loss would be the result of a choice on our part (regardless of how painful that choice was), I felt little blame, questioning or anger.

It was what it was and, at some point, I made a decision to allow everything I was feeling to come to the surface in any way that it needed to. Part of the reason for this was my physical restriction. After the Amniocentesis I was ‘forced’ to remain immobile for two days and, in hindsight, I see that this worked in favour of the journey I was about to embark upon. I had nowhere to hide from what I was feeling. I couldn’t occupy myself with mundane household tasks and I certainly didn’t want to pass the time ‘chatting’ with friends. In essence, I was forced to sit and be with what was happening to me physically, mentally, spiritually and most importantly at that time, emotionally.

Against my historical patterns of behaviour, I didn’t hold my emotions back. I couldn’t hold them back. In this chapter I have talked about how everyone’s responses are different, and mine was primarily about sadness and fear. Anger was not a significant part of the journey for me - I felt I had no one and nothing to be angry at. It showed up occasionally in mild ways, like frustrations with the doctor, but it was never significant enough to become an issue that needed addressing.

My sadness came from the loss itself, the decision we were making and the life we were ending. I sobbed openly and unashamedly in my own company for days before receiving the final confirmation of what I already knew. It felt good to release all those tears and the sadness they represented.

My fear was about the unknown. I didn’t know what was about to happen and I was scared of the pain, the procedure that I