By Lisa Manterfield
I’ve been writing and talking a lot about grief lately—here on the blog, in my fiction, in my personal life, in the novels I’m reading, and for the Life Without Baby book I’m working on. Even when I got chatting to a stranger on a train, the conversation turned to the topic of grief.
Over paper cups of tea, this woman—who had lost her brother to suicide—and I talked about how grief stays with us long after we’re “over it”, how the shape of grief changes with time, how it can change us, and how everyone carries around their own personal grief.
My only regret in the discussion is that it didn’t begin sooner on our journey, because I would have liked to hear more about what she had to say on the subject. But eventually we parted ways, she to her office and I to airport, and I didn’t have the opportunity to ask her more about her grief.
So, I’d like to ask you instead.
- How has your grief changed over time?
- How has your loss changed you?
- In what ways has your grief crept out, even when you’ve tried to keep it under wraps?
As a society, I don’t believe the topic of grief gets enough attention. We’re uncomfortable with grieving people, no matter what type of loss they’ve suffered, but it’s especially true when the loss isn’t understood.
So let’s start the conversation now. Let’s talk about this grief. I’d love to hear what you have to say.
I feel that the grief associated with this infertility process has definitely changed me. I used to be so much more optimistic and energetic. I believed that good things come to good people and if you work hard for something, you will have something to show for it. Now, I feel like the negativity and sadness has defined who I have become. I have chosen to become more isolated to avoid triggers and sadness.
I feel exactly the same way, Michelle. Giant hugs to you. Xx
Oh gosh, Michelle. You nailed it. I have spent many nights in tears thinking I wasn’t good enough or deserving enough for motherhood. The grief is really strong then amd I wonder why this happened to me. It’s hard not to get swallowed up by anger, resentment and bitterness.
I had 4 miscarriages when I was in my mid 30’s. Due to the grief and sadness that came with each miscarriage, individually and combined, I ended up divorced from my first husband and gave up on the dream of ever becoming a mother. I will now be 52 at the end of this year and I am still not a mother here on this earth and never will be. Over time, my grief has morphed into simply being a scabbed over wound. It will always be a part of me, a hole in my heart that cannot be completely filled, but I have managed to keep it confined to my heart and continue to live my life. I think that my grief over the loss of those 4 babies made me lose a big part of myself. I am often afraid to try new things, for fear of failing, particularly when it comes to writing, which I have always wanted to do.
Recently, my niece had a baby, the first baby in our immediate family in over 13 years, and it the grief from my losses hit me like a ton of bricks. I now feel like I never really mourned the loss of those babies and I am struggling to get through this grief and move forward in my life.
My current husband, we have been married 11 years, is supporting me the best way he knows how and I have explained to my sisters, nieces and mother that this has been very hard for me and that I am struggling. They profess to understand, but I get the feeling that are somewhat afraid of my grief.
Being around all of them together when the new baby is around is so overwhelming as they are completely focused on the baby. Although I have a very close family that does a lot together, I too have felt like I have become more isolated in order to avoid the possibility of breaking down in front of them.
I am a Christian, so I believe that my babies are waiting for me in heaven and we will meet again someday, but sometimes I wish that time would come sooner.
I want to find some women who are struggling in the same way that I am. Women over 50 who had multiple miscarriages and have never had children. I would like to have some conversation with them that might be healing for all parties involved.
Johnna – I am so sorry for all you have been through – you have come to the right place. I hope LWB can put you in touch with someone you can talk to. For me allowing the sadness in and not fighting it with thoughts such as “I should be over this” but allowing myself to find somewhere quite (a rush to the ladies at work) or a big cry in the shower or car on the way to work and truly allow the sadness to take hold of you until it naturally passes helped me. I think I cried daily for a number of weeks after my ectopic (and final IVF). These eased to weekly/monthly tears and now the triggers are more infrequent. Whatever they are and whenever they come – I do allow myself to give into the sadness though and not block with “Shouldn’t or mustn’t feel this way” thoughts. Sometimes though, it comes out in anger instead – I don’t block any feelings I have – I try and go with it and then let any feelings ebb away. I hope this helps and thinking of you.
Michelle, I agree with you completely. You have defined exactly what I was thinking just the other day. Part of the grief process I think is also around grieving a loss of an inner belief system.
When you are single and childless it’s hard to maintain a feeling that you are in any way lovable or that there is any hope for the future. You are ostracized by not only the mothers but isolated by the couples. Majority of single men in my age group want either a mother figure or their own family. It’s a very lonely existence and so hard not to feel a failure at what I once considered to be basic life situations. I miss the happy, hopeful person I used to be. The one with dreams, and wishes and hopes. I grieve as much for that person as I grieve for the life I do not and will not have.
Once you have truly and deeply felt the isolation and loneliness of the world, it is hard for even the strongest person to get ‘back out there’ and truly live.
Hello Ladies,
Your Posts gave me a pang in my heart. That pang that seems like someone punched your heart. It’s hard to dodge away from the questions people ask. There are times when dodging away from the questions or the focus on babies/children scenes DOES help. It truly does but at the end of the day, I focus on myself. I lay down on the couch and I’m thankful for what I don’t have to dodge, what I don’t have to scream or worry about. Because although the others are Moms, they complain. We are a society that continuously wants something different, something more. I’d give my left nut (because shit, after all that trying, IUIs, IVFs, I think I must of grown some balls! Anyway, I’m learning to just be happy. I’ll even flash a fake smile, pretend sometimes to be excited about their pregnancy or new baby. And damn, I’m good! Johnna, I hear what your saying. I do believe we will meet our lost ones in Heaven one day. They are there and I’m sure they know who we are but unfortunately, we don’t know who they are. I used to have visions, dreams of what they looked like and well, if I make it up there when I’m gone, I think we will recognize them. Hugs and Kisses ladies.
I think for me the toughest part of grieving is realising you need to grieve. I was stuck in “hopeful” for 17 years, on an off IVF treatment that I always believed it would someday happen for us that I didn’t grieve for the 6 cycles that didn’t lead to a pregnancy, nor the miracle natural pregnancy and subsequent miscarriage and only really started to grieve 18 months ago for all of these when the 7th and final IVF resulted in emergency surgery for an ectopic pregnancy. So, after 17 years I’m only just coming to terms with the fact that it will not work out and hard work and patience will never come good. My sadness extends to the lacking of family (my own mother the most disappointing of all) – she cannot understand that I am still sad after 18 years as she has no concept that the suffering has been ongoing on a daily basis for all of these years. I too avoided all contact with friends and family and those with pregnancy/small children for years and years – I couldn’t be around them. Its been very isolating – now that its completely over with no opportunities for more treatment (my husband will not – I can no longer ignore all the risks) and in 2 weeks I am too old to be treated at our clinic (48 years is the oldest they will treat you with donor eggs – 35 with your own). So now, I am finally beginning to value myself again and not judge my self on my ability to reproduce – its a very slow process however and I am grateful for the stability and love of my husband – I do feel for you who have not found a strong partner who is understanding. My husband has found it difficult to support me over the years and we almost split up 3 years ago. Thankfully we made it through. I am altered – I was definitely angry, bitter sad and dumbfounded for many many years. I think now though, I am finding the person again who is optimistic – and looks forward to things. Its takes time though and the past 18 months I have not forced myself to be up if I feel low. Grief I think is like healing from a physical wound – it takes time – it cannot be rushed and you have to go with your body. I did listen to advice from LWB posts that say to be kind to yourself and allow yourself to grieve – I feel I am still working through it – even now.
I started off by being depressed then angry and now I’m mostly in a sarcastic, acceptance place. I use to be a really positive, happy person. Now that I’m more sarcastic most people don’t seem me as a happy person any more. I am (mostly) happy. But you can’t come out the other side of infertility and not be different. Everything isn’t all rosy anymore. There are ALWAYS reminders of my infertility. Even in the blessings of my life. (I wouldn’t be able to go on this trip or that trip or by this or buy that or buy that if I had kids.) I also use to keep negative thoughts to myself. Now I find myself blurting them out. And not just things people say about children. ANYTHING and EVERYTHING, if I have an opinion about it, I say what I think…mean or nice. It is like I don’t have the energy any more to deal with peoples selfish, petty selves.
Grief and not celebrating traditions with your children. The topic is timely, as I am coming up to the anniversary of the birthday of the baby we adopted briefly before the adoption disruption occurred related to the baby’s biological parents wanting him back. As Halloween came , I thought I was ok with the trick or treating business but as the night wore on I found myself agitated, and wanting to escape. The challenging thing about these feelings is its hard to know when they will pop up. I did have so many plans for this baby, our sharing of our faith with him, playing sports, going to school plays, Christmas with our families and our traditions. I was not aware how much of these plans or traditions I was thinking about, until they really did not happen. Adoption for me was suppose to be the golden goose that would make infertility alright. Ha ha! I will always miss this baby we had in our home for a brief time, and at times can’t help but think of him, for his birthday, holidays etc and wonder how he is doing. I have accepted for most of the time I will not be a mother, but around this time of year is challenging for me related to what happened to me and my husband.i pray for this little Bryant well being, and do at times grief the life we almost had together. But the grief is not like this all the time , and really has lessened over the years since this has happened. Knowing other people understand really helps,and knowing I have a place to write my experiences helps also. Thanks for this community and blog!
All my life I have been called the fun Aunt. I couldn’t wait to have my own children with a man that I would love dearly. I went thru my twenty’s not giving it one thought of having a child right away. Plus there wasn’t a man in my life at that time. In my thirty’s all I thought of was having a child. All my friends and family were having babies. I still was hopeful that I will have one. I was so eager to have a child that the man I was seeing was married. I didn’t care. I hoped every time that I would get pregnant. Nothing happened and the affair ended. In my early forties, I meet a wonderful man and fell in love with him. I was still hopeful that I could have a child with him. Right around 43/44, I was told that I was in permi-menopause. I was so heart broken. I still had a chance. After a whole year the doctor said it was menopause. I was still hoping for a miracle. I spoke with my mother and told her about what was happening and she told me that she went thru menopause at the age of 42. My doctor told me that you follow your mother for when you get it. My heart and spirit died with that comment and when my doctor told me that I needed to get a hysterectomy at the age of 47. I really thought that I would have that child I always wanted. It has been 5 months since the surgery. When I’m at work 90 percent of the time I don’t want to be there. I have to sit there and listen to everyone talk about their children or grandchildren. There are days that I can handle it and days I just want to scream and tell them to shut up. They all know what I went thru. But no one really knows what I’m going thru. They say adopt, can’t afford all the the fees and cost. Some also say it’s not worth it, just like getting married. I feel so left out. Right before writing this I was crying at work just because this woman was talking about her baby son. After having the surgery I feel like I have died and the child I never had. I don’t know how to move on. I am not the same person as I was before the surgery. I try to be happy for the friends I have that are having babies. I do have the man in my life. He is happy the way things are. But he also don’t understand what I’m going thru. He is supportive. Out of what I thought would be my life is now just half of that. Still tough and don’t know what to do.