Welcome to the club that none of us want to be part of; we don’t want to be here, and we certainly don’t want to extend a welcoming hug, hand or friendship to you. Not because we are mean people, quite the opposite. We don’t want to be part of this group, and we don’t want you to either. But here you are, on your first day, and we do welcome you to the group. We the silent ones, whom you’ve seen at the supermarket, walking down the street. Your neighbors, your fellow congregants at church.
Women whom if you don’t know us well enough, you might not realize we are all part of the same group. The mom’s who have lost a child. Do you see now why we don’t want to welcome you? This exclusive club requires only one thing to be a member. You must have your child die before you do. We are moms who lost a baby in utero. Moms who lost a baby to stillbirth. Moms who lost a baby in early infancy, and in some cases moms who lost a child to disease or drugs.
We are moms who everyday question why we are part of this horrible club, and if you don’t mind, we will hug you, welcome you to the club, and tell you that in some small way we understand, but not really. You see because even though we have lost a baby, a child, our loss is not the same as yours. There is no comparison to what you are going through, the only thing we have in common is that we are moms, and we are grieving.
It is endless grief. It sneaks in and slaps you silly when you think you finally have good control over it. It is ever changing. Constant. There are good days and bad days. There are days when you celebrate with your living child being able to make it through the bad days only to feel bad that you had a good day when you think there shouldn’t be any happiness anymore.
You might look out at other people who have moved on with their lives, while you are stagnant realizing that there is no moving on. You might question how I can laugh and joke, and still belong to the same club as you. Try to realize that as hard as this is on you we all grieve differently and our journeys all begin at a different point.
Approximately a year before I joined this exclusive club a friend of ours lost their son to a drowning accident. At the time I didn’t have any children yet, and I couldn’t fathom what they were going through. Couldn’t bare to imagine what it must be like to turn off the life support of your only son, kiss him goodbye for the last time, and let him go. Their pain is still unimaginable to me. Not a full year later though I was going to hear the words that would change my life. The doctor would explain there was nothing he could do.
My baby wouldn’t make it. I would be forced to join the club of grieving mothers. Since then I have rolled out the red carpet and welcomed others to this unfortunate group. I have sat with women I loved, hugged them tightly and bawled my eyes out every time they’ve told me their stories.
Twice I have lost babies, both in utero, once to an ectopic pregnancy and the other time to a miscarriage. Neither loss made any sense to me, and both I am still grieving, as I snuggle my children, love and cuddle them, I am saddened still by the losses of their siblings.
As you struggle through these early days in membership to our exclusive club please know that even if I don’t know you very well, I am heartbroken that you are joining us here as a mother who lost a child.
