I just had the worse conversation about infant loss with someone’s husband. It ended with me taking 2 shots of Brandy just to numb my own pain; empathetic though they may be. I get it, men would never understand completely. I imagine being married to one that classifies the pains as ‘those emotions’ and saying they can’t deal with it, as the most difficult thing. Regardless, if the loss was with them or not. Worse when they aren’t open to working towards having a child and saying I declared that from before. Yes, we all get caught up in our ideas and hopes that things will pan out but how detrimental and stuck this woman must feel. Realizing, who should be her spouse for a lifetime is completely dismissive. Why didn’t she make a better choice for herself? So many emotions and compassion for another human being has completely fell off the grid in this relationship. Even sadder is that, It’s a very young marriage and honestly should have been a case of ‘you aren’t what I need, so I will appreciate you from a far, while I find someone on the very same page as me’. I had to get my feelings out, and so I sat in the dark and typed away. No idea what I would write, fucking with the font I just knew I had to flesh things out. It’s probably the worst time for me to have discussion like this when my own life and emotions are in whirlwind. However, I felt so at a loss and hurt, I was holding my child during this conversation, watching him take little breaths as he napped on my chest and I just sank deeper and deeper into a weakness that is so familiar to me, that I couldn’t stop my emotions. I don’t know if its selfishness or just the genetic make-up of this individual but the scourge that came to the frontal lobe! Thoughts that I held back, that I wanted to lash on him just couldn’t be put in words…just mental pictures. Zero moral compass. Zero respect for life and death.
In the Christmas Special episode of Call the Midwives Series 1, I felt for Mrs. Jenkins so bad. When Nurse Lee brought her to the cemetery to visit her children she lost while working in a workhouse, I lost it when her head fell as she kneeled on one of the graves. I’m not religious or spiritual but I wanted to pray and meditate for the heart of this man. I wanted to sit in silence for a few hours and channel loads of good energy his way, in the hopes that it would strike even the smallest living nerve that would trigger a mustard seed size of care. His flippant nature toward this issue in someone who should be so import to him scared me, what else can a person like this be capable of. How dead is he, and what torture did he endure in his life to be so desensitized. Infant loss, no matter how far along or the circumstance is ugly and hard and miserable and torturing and confusing and guilt ridden; an open wound with absolutely no chance of closure. It’s a moment that brings you to your knees in the heights of what should be one of the most joyous times in your life. A tumultuous war of emotions with yourself, and your child and with your partner, yourself and your child. It’s that look on people’s faces every time they see you and remember and how they dance around the subject because it’s too sensitive when you want to scream about it. It’s that nagging feeling every time you see the innocence, pureness and beauty of a newborn babe, safely coddled by doting parents. It’s the replaying of that moment you had with your own who just should not have left; but sadly did too soon. And finally, the forced smile when others unbeknownst inquire about your own offspring and you shyly conjure up a pacifying answer. I felt mortified so much more knowing that October is infant loss awareness month. I just can’t imagine, what is the use of a spouse one can’t lean on?