Confession

I lied!! To an almost complete stranger, but it just got me thinking about why I did it and brought up all of this crazy stuff, so please forgive me while I go on a bit of a tangent.

When I tell someone I lost a baby, their automatic first question is "how far along were you?", and this includes Baby Loss Moms and non-BLMs alike. But I think the two groups ask it for different reasons.

Let's start with the non-BLMs. If they are women who have all living children, they are comfortable talking about pregnancy, so asking you how many weeks you were is an easy thing for them to ask. They are not typically comfortable talking about grief and loss, especially a baby. Most non-BLMs will admit that it's just too scary to even think about or they just can't imagine.

I think BLMs ask how far along you were because usually we genuinely want to know other mother's stories. We want to know as much as possible about each other's experiences. We want to know about your baby. We want to know what you went through so we can support you, help you, remember your baby with you.

But, lets get back to the topic at hand, the question "how far along were you?". According to the impressions I've gotten from a variety of sources, the more time you had your child with you, the more entitled you are to feel grief and loss. Definitely in the non-BLM world, but also dare I say even within the community. And I know everyone says "a loss is a loss" and so on. But, well, sometimes I just get that impression like it should be easier for me.

But, let's face it, everyone's experience is different. Why do we feel the need to quantify it somehow?

So how did this come up? Well, there is this lady that I hired to help me clean and organize the house (yes, finally bit the bullet and accepted that I needed help). And I found myself lying yesterday, straight up lying, when this lady asked me "how far along were you?" when I told her about losing a baby in October because she saw all these mementos of you. This was her first question (non-BLM, 1LC), and I just found myself lying. I told her I had been much farther along. I didn't want to be lumped in that "early miscarriage" category where people think it's just like you had a bad period and no big deal. I wanted the extra sympathy, I wanted her to understand how devastating this was for me. I wanted her to know that my baby had a name, that I delivered her sleeping, and straight into heaven, that her father and I had to bury her in the ground.

But why did I lie?? Why did I feel the need to do that? Maybe because I didn't want her to dismiss it, or tell me "at least you weren't further along" or tell me some story of someone else she knows who had a loss later in term, and how terrible it was for them, and thank god that didn't happen to me, etc.

I feel terrible, strange, guilty for lying. This is not someone that I will see very often, but I still feel kind of crappy for lying. I didn't even think about it, it just came out of my mouth. And the worst part is, that it worked, and she really seemed to understand the depth of my loss.

So, anyway, here is my plea: Let's not contribute to this scale that everyone wants to put us on. This is not a competition. Let's remember that every loss is different, every heart is different, but empty arms are empty arms, and a broken heart is a broken heart. Each one of us has had more pain than she should ever have to know. There is no need to put a number to it. Can we all find someone who had it "worse"? Yes. Can we all find someone who had it "easier"? Probably. But Why??? Bottom line, we are all hurting, some more, some less, but our pain is not a number.

I think the next time someone aks me that question: "how far along were you" I will answer "Far enough!". Far enough to love, far enough to dream, far enough to break into a million pieces when she went away.

Lula,

I'm so sorry that I lied. I feel really guilty about it. Especially since I lied about you. I should be proud to tell all about you. But lately, when I tell people about you, they don't understand. They never understand. I guess I just wanted someone to understand how much I loved you, and in the moment, it just came out. I must have thought it would help. But I won't do it again.

Lula baby, I would have gladly carried you any amount of time God would have allowed me to have with you, even if it still meant not having you in my arms today. I was so looking forward to feeling you kick. I cried and cried the other day when your "auntie" J complained about feeling her baby kick and move. She said that it was annoying. It felt like a knife in my heart to hear her say that. I would have given anything.

There have been many times when Mommy has had to fight for her right to grieve for you. Like when my friends all expected me to be "over it" a few weeks later. Or when your granny kept insisting that I would "have my turn to be a mother". I am a mother thankyouverymuch!!

Or when my therapist told me it was time to move on, and I yelled at him with tears streaming down my face and said, "I AM NOT DONE BEING SAD ABOUT MY BABY!!" I told him this is a process I am working through. I lost my baby, I am a mother with empty arms, I cannot just one day wake up and not remember that.

It's taken me nine months to even get to a semi-functional state. Maybe Mommy's not normal. Lots of people that have miscarriages don't go all psycho like Mommy, but I guess you just got lucky! ;P Every ounce of it, the sadness, pain, darkness, it was all worth it to be blessed with your little life and your little soul if only for a short time. You were here, and you are still here. You've proven to me time and again that you are guiding me and protecting me. I know everyone still thinks I am crazy, but little girl, you have given me so much confidence to not really give a f*ck what other people think. I'd rather they didn't say things that make me want to puke or kill myself, but as long as they leave me alone, they can think what they want.

You taught me what matters in life. You taught me what matters IS life. Life is precious, every single moment of it. You and your little life were so precious to me and always will be.

Anyway, I thought of you a lot today, obviously. Thanks again for D. He's really brightening things up. Thanks for sending me dragonflies, sunflowers, weird birds in a tree, and last but not least a beautiful rainbow followed by a glowing sunset. I can't help but feel like any happiness I've had recently has all been from you. I've been changing for some time, or maybe just in my cacoon, but I think you have a plan for me to finally spread my own wings and live my life again.

I am so thankful for you and proud. I wish you were here.

Love,

Mommy