Tuesday, 22 February 2011

What's in a name?

Today is a bad day.

I had to return to the scene of the crime today - back to the hospital for my 6 wk check up & just like everything else in this horror show of an experience, it was nothing like I imagined it.  The tears started on my drive down, kept coming on my way down the hallway to the elevators, on the ride up, by the payphone as I tried to let it out so I could be composed when I went into the clinic area, on my way to the clinic area, in the consult room, after blood was drawn & on & on & on. 

Bad day seemed like an understatment - like everything else words can't capture the essence of this special hell, but I had to come up with something to say when people asked.  One nurse asked if I was lost - the clinic is located on the same floor as the maternity & birthing unit - so obviously there was no room for tears of pain & grief in this bright & hopeful place.  The thing is, I am lost - I just pretend most of the time to navigate this world in the ways that make others comfortable. 

The OB finally arrived - she said a whole string of things & then she said THE thing & lifted a wieght off my shoulders.  She said  "I wouldn't call what happened a miscarriage, it was a case of Intra uterine demise..."  What's in a name?  The freedom of knowing that you & now everyone else will now know you were not to blame, that you didn't do anything wrong, that I DID NOT miscarry anything!  Our baby died & I had to deliver him and it is in not insignficant or just a miscarriage! 

The OB was compassionate, she spoke as a physician & mom & treated me with dignity, not a over reacting nutcase, not a fragile shell best left alone, as a woman grieving the worst possible kind of loss.  To the hospital & staff, I will always be grateful - such kindness I never could have expected from strangers - but in this strange reality it seems the most incredible acts of kindness have come from strangers - in the most unexpected ways.

I have reflected on what i wrote yesterday about being broken & i think it's the perfect description paired with the nurses reflection today - broken & lost.  I miss my child, I feel like I'm failing as a mom, unable to keep up the cherade the world expects indefinitely but I just try and keep telling myself today is a bad day. 


  1. Caroline ~ your writing is so raw. I admire your courage... to want to share your story... to want to share your son.

    This sentiment struck a chord; "I just pretend most of the time to navigate this world in the ways that make others comfortable." Wow, just so incredibly true... you hit it.

    Strength and love to you.

  2. I'm so sorry you are going through this long and complicated journey called grief. Hugs to you from a mom who remembers vividly that special hell. Your words are so painfully well spoken.

  3. New to your blog (from Lea's blog). I am so sorry for your loss.
    Wishing you so much strength as your learn to navigate without your precious boy ((HUGS))

  4. Hopping over from Lea's blog and wanted to express my deepest sympathy for your devastating loss.

    I lost my son Caleb at 17 months of age (August 20, 2008) when he tried to climb out of his crib and got stuck. We found him in the morning. Some days still seem like a nightmare, but somehow the rawness of the loss has softened at times.

    With love and Hope,

  5. So sorry to hear about your loss... I can still remember going to my 6 week appt and not knowing what to say through all the tears. Thinking of you and know that we're all here to sharing this awful journey with you xoxo

  6. Caroline I am so very sorry for the loss of your precious James. My thoughts and prayers are with you as make your way along this totally unfair path. I'm your newest follower so please reach out if you ever need to talk.

    Wishing you peace and strength today and always,


  7. Caroline, I have no words of comfort. Know I am so sorry for your loss. Your words are painfully true and raw. May you find help in expressing them. Thinking of you and your sweet James.

  8. Caroline, you write beautifully and my heart is breaking for you guys. I'm sure when Jeven is older, he'll be very happy to know that he could give you some comfort during these hard days. And don't ever think that you're not a wonderful mother - you wouldn't feel this way if you weren't.