17 January, 2001 - In Memory

This is something I feel the need to post; it might be terribly self-indulgent, but as this event in my life was shared intimately with the boards while it was happening I think that it will bring some small sense of closure to share this with you.

I’m not sure how many of you were here and remember when I had a miscarriage last June. Even though everyone was scared sick about Wally’s accident and later saddened by his death, so many of you still took time to comfort me. If anyone is interested in how kind the people on this board can be, please read this thread and this one. At the time I could not adequately express my how much all those posts and e-mails and phone calls meant to me, and I’m not sure that I can even now. It was the most tragic week we’ve ever had on the boards, and it brings me to tears to this day to remember how we pulled together, and the incredible kindness of strangers to each other.

Today would have been my due date. There is something in me that can not allow this day to go without commemorating what might have been in some way. Things have gotten better for us, it is true, but our loss is still fresh and we think about it every day. I don’t cry every day anymore, but I never know what might bring the grief rushing back.

Since June, we have had another miscarriage and now it is uncertain wether or not I’ll ever be able to carry a pregnancy to term again. To be honest, I haven’t been able to deal with that yet, the enormity of it is too much to handle right now. I just deal with what I have to, and save the rest until I am stronger.

As I said, I don’t know why I have to bring notice to a baby and a birth that will never be, but if I don’t I don’t know how to make it through the day. It is illogical, I know and I am not a spiritual person or superstitious, but I can’t live with myself if I let any child of mine, born or unborn be so easily forgotten.

I don’t think I want sympathy or understanding, I think I want to be heard. I don’t want this to be forgotten, not yet. Remembering is hard, but not remembering is unthinkable.

Thank you for your time, and for all the kindness in the past. It means more than you will know.

Tracy

{{{{{{{{{{Tracy}}}}}}}}}}

Damn cyberhugs! So useless at conveying anything but surface emotions!

Tracy, as you know, I think you are very brave for doing this. I admire you for wanting to commemorate this day.

I know that all your friends here on the board will support you in your decision to let them share in your life now as they appreciated, empathized and sympathized with you sharing your life with them then.

{{{Tracy}}}

There’s nothing I can say to help Tracy. I wish I could. I really wish I could. I know you dont whant this to be a sympathy thread, but feel free do do whatever you think will help.
John

I wish you all the best, tatertot. This cannot be easy to deal with, and I too admire you for posting.

{{tater}}

I imagine it must leave a hole the size of a house in your heart, Tracy. Nothing to be said, nothing to be done, except live with the pain. Damn, this must be a difficult time.

You know, people really care for you an awful lot. This cyber thing is but the tip of something very substantial that exists out there in the real world. You are beautiful, funny, clever, giving, warm and have so, so much to look forward to. And you’ve got Tinytot ! Hooray for him !!

It’s not all bad, Tracy. There are a lot of good things as well. I hope tomorrow you will be able to remember that and can move forward with the help of your many friends and family.

I wish I could share some of the burden for you, Andy.

  • no e-mail sent as I imagine you have enough to contend with. But thinking of you.

Tracy,

I am glad you posted this. You child does deserve to be remembered. What some people don’t understand when our children leave us before birth is that while our arms never held them, our hearts did and still do.

Time dulls the pain but you don’t forget. Our daughter would have been 22 the 29th of this month. She will always be a part of my memories and my heart.

You posting this may help some woman going through this now.

The grief that follows miscarriage is a particularly vicious kind of grief. You are left with no grave to lay flowers on, no name to whisper to the winds, no face to fondly remember, no happy memories to share with others who loved the dead. Others can say the cruelest things in their attempt to help… because to them, this child never was real. To them, you lost a little blue line on a funny plastic stick. You know better. You lost all the hopes and dreams that had passed through your mind since you first knew of the little being growing within you. You lost a unique and irreplaceable individual. You lost your baby.

It’s been over seven years since that awful day when my worst suspicions were confirmed: our first baby, the baby we were picking out names for, had quietly slipped away from us. The pain has faded now, but I can’t forget. I still cry about it sometimes when no one is looking. I still curse fate. I still know I have one child too few, and I always will.

Tater, I’m not much for giving cyberhugs, but for you I will wholeheartedly make an exception. {{{hug}}}

{{{{{Tatertot}}}}

{{{{{{{{{{{{{Tatertot}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

flodnak expressed everything beautifully. Mrs. Spritle and I had a miscarriage Aug. '99 it was less than a year after her father died. The little tot was due April 9, the anniversary of her uncle’s death. She lit a Yartzeit candle (Jewish thing ;j) for each of them.

I’m not trying to identify, or sympathize or whatever, I just wanted to point out that yes, your baby should be remembered. But when you wrote “It is illogical, I know and I am not a spiritual person or superstitious, but I can’t live with myself if I let any child of mine, born or unborn be so easily forgotten.” I just had to step in and say, NO, It isn’t illogical! It’s perfectly normal. You must grieve the loss of an unborn child the same way you grieve any child.

I ain’t into that touchy-feely cyber hug stuff, but I do have a soft, fluffy, warm spot in my heart. Please feel welcome to crawl in and hide from the world for a while, whenever you want.

(Oh, yeah, International Code allows you one free punch on anyone who says something insensitive like “The baby probably had a deformity and you wouldn’t want to have to raise a baby like that.” Mrs. Spritle just replied, “I’d be happy to have any baby; I wouldn’t be judgemental about any imperfections.”)

TT-

I feel for you. We’ve certainly shared (from time to time) the joy we each feel in having children. They can mean so much to us right from the moment we find out they’re coming. I can only imagine how hard it must have been for you.

So just know that I’m with you. I wish I could say something more meaningful.

{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{tatertot}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

{{{{{tater}}}}}

{{{{{Tracy}}}}}

I know it’s the same person, but she’s such a good person, I had to hug her twice.

Thank you to those who have expressed sympathy, and my condolences to those who have experienced the same sort of loss as we have.
And Duke, I was very weepy and sniffly and sad reading the posts, and hearing about my other Doper friends who’ve had to go through the same thing.

Then I read this: I know it’s the same person, but she’s such a good person, I had to hug her twice.

And fell out of my chair laughing. I was hysterical. That’s the funniest thing I’ve read all week, I can actually hear you saying it, in this deadpan voice. Hehe.

That’s a good thing, really it is.

{{{tater}}}

I had a miscarriage in May, myself. It is a very sad loss.

{{{{Tater}}}}

It sucks, it hurts, it’s not fair.
I’ve been there too.
Rose

Those children would have been lucky to call you mom.

{{tatertot}}}

{{{{{tater}}}}}

If I had the words to make it better, I’d use them. Instead I’ll just send a hug.

{{{Tracy}}}

{{{{tatertot}}}}

I’ll think of you today.

Thank you for considering these millions as a safe place to express such personal feelings of loss. This is most certainly not Mundane, Pointless, or even Stuff. But it still is a place to Share. I would wish you the strength to endure, and the heart to always remember, but it seems you’ve got those.

{{{{{{{tatertot}}}}}}}

(UncleBill’s first and most heartfelt cyberhug)