Birth Grief

Birth Grief

Friday, 1 July 2011

I was reminded by a good friend the other day that people read this blog. Not a shocking revelation perhaps but she told me the story of her friend who had gone to an antenatal appointment, and in response to some seemingly innocuous comment had released a whole can of whoopass on herself when the emotional maelstrom of her first birth was suddenly and violently released. 

I've been thinking about that lady for the last few days, and my own experiences this pregnancy, and I decided to share what I can in the spirit of sisterhood.

I was left emotionally broken by Alfie’s birth. 

Like a lot of women though I didn't stop to acknowledge that fact; I sucked it up, dug deep and threw myself 100% into the evolution of our new little family. I didn't do it deliberately but I am the sort of person who seems to get called a “strong woman” a lot, and us strong women don’t sit in a corner and weep, we pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off and join some committees to kick the ever loving crap out of the system that did us wrong.

I think I would have quite happily carried on like that had we not decided to have more children. 

I'm not sure what innocuous trigger would have set me off, perhaps that is irrelevant because it would have been something, but in actual fact for me it was my hynobirthing CDs doing what they were supposed to be doing and helping me let go of my past birth. Except instead of the few resentments I thought I was carrying, what those CDs did was open a door I didn't even know was there and suddenly my entire insides were full of anger and pain and hurt and I don’t know what the hell you are but you have 3 heads and big fucking teeth!!

It made me want to cry lots. And shout too. 

It made me want the whole world to go away and leave me the hell alone. It didn't make sense and it certainly wasn't under my control and I didn't understand any of it. Most importantly I didn't know what to do with it.

So I did what us ‘strong women’ do and got on with things and left this thing to sit in the corner and throw its toddler tantrum. Except that didn't make it go away, although it did give me the time to be able to study it and slowly it turned from a mass of nasty into tangible themes and shapes and reasons that I was actually capable of putting into words. 

The problem then was who would listen to those words.

I chose to talk things through with my doula Mel and it was a wise decision. For those of you who have husbands like mine, who think the only topics of conversation that hold any merit are the transfer window or whether Vettel has this championship locked out (unfortunately I think he may well do) please find yourself a ‘Mel’. I have spent the last five months being told “god you’re so pregnant” whenever I've gotten emotional or cross and I've known there was little to no point in trying to explain that actually I'm grieving horribly because it would be a little like trying to explain to a gazelle that the lion doesn't hate him, it’s just really hungry.

I have felt horribly alone and lost with the strength and intensity of the emotions I've been feeling which is ironic because I'm not alone at all: This is not an unusual situation I find myself in. 

There are thousands of us going through this horrible reckoning during our subsequent pregnancies and it is hard to deal with, not least because of the guilt you feel that your last pregnancy was like a Disney film and this one has been a complete train wreck. It isn't helped by idiots who try to give you the idea that your last birth was OK “because you all came out of it alive”. If you are one of these people do yourself a favour and don’t EVER say those words again because that is patronising and horribly ignorant. 

There is no real point to this post I suppose, other than to say to any woman out there who reads this and feels a spark or recognition that a) you’re not going mad, you’re grieving, it’s allowed and b) you are not alone.

For the first time ever I am able to cry and for it to feel good. It’s a horrible road that will leave you cut and raw, but it’s a good road too. 

And when I reach the end of it, maybe I will share more of my journey.