BABY LOSS AWARENESS WEEK

Did you know that 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage? Among women who know they are pregnant, it is estimated that 1 in 6 pregnancies end in miscarriage. The majority of miscarriages happen in the first trimester – about 3 in every 4 miscarriages happen during this period.

But it’s just a statistic or just a number if it didn’t happen to you because the loss, the pain – physically and mentally, the psychological impact of a miscarriage is impossible to describe in words. A woman who just lost her unborn child is expected to get back on her feet and move on like she just had a strong period cramp that lasted few hours – yes! This is how a miscarriage os described – A BAD PERIOD CRAMP

It pains me writing it but it is reality. A miscarriage is a taboo subject. It’s just something so personal that we are not even allowed to talk about. We hide under the blanket hoping the feeling will go away because admitting what happened implies that society will see you as half a woman. You are not able to do what women are doing for millions of years. You are not hole. You are just half a mother. Your body is just faulty, not being able to carry a pregnancy to term. You see yourself as damaged, incomplete and broken.

A miscarriage is not a bad period cramp. It is a tragedy, it is a painful process and every woman who is going through such a horrible experience should be left to grieve, should be left to act as insane as she is acting, without being judged or condemned. The mental impact of a miscarriage is absolutely scarry.

As this week marks the BABY LOSS AWARENESS WEEK, I want to raise awareness of what a miscarriage is, of the impact a miscarriage has on our lives and try and

help women out there who go through such a nightmare.

You might say my story is one in a million of similar stories and it will just be read by few people out there. They will feel sorry for me and move on with their lives and nothing will actually change. But, I say that if my one story can reach one mother who is grieving now and feels lost and losing her mind, it means that I have done something, and I have helped someone realise that she is not alone, that despite reality, someone out there completely understands what she is going through.

I would be so happy knowing I have helped one mother out there and it will definitely help me smile and have peace in my heart.

Although some time passed, I still grieve my unborn child. I still swallow my tears when I get email notifications from all websites I subscribed when I found out I was expecting (I did unsubscribed from them but somehow, a random email still pops into my inbox), I still hate parents who shout and hit their children.

I still blame myself and wonder what have I done wrong? Did I have more coffee than I should have? Have I been too stressed? Have I done too much trying to prove myself I am strong even if pregnant? Didn’t I want this child enough? What have I actually done wrong?

I still have moments when I blame the world for what happened, trying to find an answer to a question that will never ever have one.

I still hate those doctors who raised their shoulders in defeat when I asked “why?” I wanted to scream in pain and punch them in the face when all they could say was: “We still don’t know why these things happen. We think it’s just the body reacting to an anomaly” So, I was not pregnant, I was only carrying an anomaly and it was just a matter of time until I would just eliminate it and be expected to move on with my life.

But reality is not this. Reality is the one I and every women who suffered a miscarriage feeling. The reality is crying yourself to sleep and waking up feeling empty; the reality is feeling angry at the world and yourself, wanting to die, questioning every second of your life and wondering what have you done wrong, asking yourself what sins are you paying for in this life. The reality is holding on to a baby cloth and smelling it like it will magically make things better or carry you in a virtual world where pain is unknown. Reality is feeling that void every second of every hour of every day of your life, having sadness wrapped around you like a blanket and holding you so tight you can barely breath. Reality is not feeling complete for the rest of your life, feeling guilty for trying to live, for smiling or enjoying the smallest things, feeling guilty for you stopped crying after months of sorrow.

Few months ago I wrote a post about how I was almost gone. That was just the physical part of a miscarriage. That was the part that passed and was the least painful.

The worst part is having people tell you that you are ok, telling you you can adopt and you can always have other children like this is ment to make you feel better. It actually makes me angry and makes me want to scream and shout because they got no clue what a miscarriage feels like. They talk for the sake of talking, thinking one child can replace the loss of another.

I am angry at the world for not understanding that this is one of the hardest and most painful experiences a parent can go through, for not allowing us to grieve for as long as it takes and for not offering support, for making it a taboo subject in a society that claims to be able to speak openly and freely about everything.

I am hoping that at least one of all readers of this post will be able to raise awareness by joining the virtual Wave of Light. Take a photo of your candle and post it to Facebook, Twitter or Instagram using #WaveOfLight at 7pm local time on the 15th of October.

Wherever you do this, you will be joining a global ‘Wave of Light’ in memory of all the babies who lit up our lives for such a short time.