I have come a long way since that unfortunate episode and many things have happened, most of them much more joyful but it left me changed forever, in ways that would take too long to write about today.
In any case, it wasn't my own miscarriage I was referring to in the title but sadly, one of my friends'.
For a little over 1 1/2 years, I have been going to a playgroup almost religiously every week. In that time, I have made a few connections with other parents but none stronger than with my friend Aqua. Despite being very different people, we have found in one another a strong connection. We talk easily, share secrets and make plans. I am always happy to see her and she, me.
Together, we have watched our sons grow from wobbly babies into confident toddlers, all the while talking about it from the sidelines. We talked of our plans to fall pregnant, and when I fell pregnant with Eloise, I shared the news with Aqua early.
Then, a couple months ago, it was her turn to share her happy news. Her baby would be born in March, close to Hugo's birthday. As all expectant mothers, she was both excited and terrified.
Sadly, a couple of weeks ago, I received a text message quite early in the morning letting me know that she thought she was having a miscarriage. There was blood and it wasn't stopping.
She knew I had experienced something similar so she texted me in the hope I could shed some light on what would happen. Through a couple conversations and text exchanges, I did my best to reassure her but also explain clearly what I had been through. Naive to it myself at the time, the process the body undertakes was very shocking and unexpected. I wanted to spare her that if I could.
Over the next couple of weeks, we texted every so often. I asked for some news, sent some positive words, let her know my plans to attend playgroup and so on.
I saw her last Thursday at playgroup and she was looking well. She had just come back from a little family getaway to clear her head and she was feeling positive and refreshed. Her body was recovering well and, contrary to her first impulse to want to get pregnant straight away again, she now felt like waiting a little, to let the dust settle.
At the end of the session, she handed me a lucky bamboo plant to keep at home. It was to thank me for my support. I was so touched by the gesture even if I wasn't the one needing it.
The thing about terrible things happening is that they are quite often very random, making it hard to move on and get closure. Miscarriages happen. That's it. There is no reason and there is no way to stop it. With time, of course, we come to accept it and move on. So many much worse things can happen.
Helping a friend go through the same experience was sort of healing to me too. It gave it some purpose. it felt that something good could come out of something bad. If I hadn't gone through this, my words and thoughts wouldn't have had the same weight. I probably wouldn't even have received that early morning text at all in fact. It seems strange to say, but in some ways, I was almost glad it happened because it helped me be there for someone who needed it.
Friendships evolve slowly, as you move through levels hinged on specific events, from the superficial to something with more depth and intimacy. It was an honour to be told the great news of her pregnancy, but it was an even greater one to be allowed to help in more difficult times.
My own miscarriage has taken on a blurry softness. It doesn't sting to think about it like it used to. Today, I can honestly say I have come full circle with it and my beautiful exotic bamboo is there to remind me of that.
When people unwittingly become "members of a club to which no one wants to belong," it certainly does bring them closer. From then on, the trick is knowing out to dose the listening and speaking portions of our exchanges.
ReplyDeleteI have "friends," ones who consider me to be a close one but who are too self absorbed to even realize that though I've repeatedly listened to their life history, they have little to no knowledge of my life. Or perhaps they do realize it and don't care because they are just looking for a set of ears.
Life changing events are best shared with those fortunately or unfortunately apt to understand them and your observation about one's own pain being somewhat numbed when it serves to help another person is an excellent one.
I recently re-encountered someone whose father died when she was very young and though she is 30 years younger than I am, she may be the first woman with whom I will exchange impressions on the subject. Though it's a sad one, something inside me is titillating at the prospect of possibly sharing and healing together.