I was wondering, do the people in your life, from the ones you are close to, to not so close to know your thoughts/feelings about other peoples pregnancies/babies?

I know that here and among friends of this type of grief, we talk openly about it, and for the most part respect and understand everyone's feelings.

But, out in the real world, do people know if you have hard time with pregnancy news or talk? I think, after I lost M, many, many people were understanding. For about 3 months at least. Since then, I have always sensed complete ignorance, and if I allude to it in any way, (and no, I don't scream/cry/have a fit. I'm more subtle than that) they seem utterly surprised and uncomfortable. I can't seem to wrap my head around this, especially since my last loss, when the decision was made to not try for more kids, that my A would be an only child. I mean really? They think I want to hear about this? It crushes me. And yet, why would they know? I do keep the feelings fairly wrapped tight.

I guess I am surprised at the casual way people would talk to me about these things. I'm wondering, what are some of the experiences you guys are having? Do people know your true feelings? And how sensitive or understanding of that are they?


brokenheartdiaries.blogspot.com

I'm sorry that people don't seem to understand you...I feel the same way. Chronicly misunderstood and, frankly, too tired to fight it any longer. People forget so easily...and move on because it is not THEIR loss. I think for me, because I had a stillborn twin and a surviving twin, that people assume that baby and pregnancy stuff doesn't bother me. But it does...so badly.

I went to a baby shower last weekend and made it through without crying until it was over. My husband didn't understand why I cried the whole way home. He was like, "Well, I'm happy for them."

As if I wasn't.

I tried to explain that it wasn't about our pregnant friend at all. That it was about not getting to celebrate our twins in such a way.

And then I gave up because I'm tired.

I hadn't read your post until today, but ironically, I was thinking about this very thing last night at a social gathering.

A man I had just met (who obviously doesn't know about my loss) was talking about how he was going to be a grandpa. I was truly happy for him.....until he callously made a comment about how his son and daughter in law miscarried their first baby a couple of months ago and now should be able to just "move on" with their lives since they're pregnant again.

I felt happy and sad for that couple. Happy that they were able to conceive so quickly after their miscarriage, but sad that their family obviously doesn't understand the significance of their loss.

Of the few people who know about my loss, some are more understanding than others. With the others, as well as strangers such as the man above, being more cavalier or uncomfortable.

I wonder if I was ever that insensitive before my loss….I certainly hope not.

In my experience, people were clueless about this from the get-go. Three weeks after I lost my daughter, one of my best friends from childhood e-mailed me an exclamation-point filled pregnancy announcement that had zero mention of my loss (even though she was fully aware of it). The betrayal I felt was unbelievable. I laid into her (via e-mail) like you wouldn't believe. She is a very well-intentioned person and I think she honestly didn't realize how much her news (particularly the insensitive way she presented it) would impact me. Fortunately, we were able to work through it although, at the time, I thought our friendship was finished.

Ten months later, I am better at dealing with pregnancy... and people's total lack of sensitivity about the way I might perceive pregnancy. Occasionally, I will lash out with bitterness at someone's pregnancy, but only to my husband. And, yes, my well-meaning husband will chime in: "Can't you be happy for them?" to which I adamantly reply: "No. And I don't care if I'm a bitch because of it."

Like Eve, I gave up long ago trying to make people understand. Pretty much everyone but my husband and myself have moved way past this experience. They aren't thinking about how I feel or how I'll react. They're just wrapped up in their own lives and prefer to remain clueless about the dark side of life.

I also vent to my husband what I feel and were usually on the same page. Except for when I cry my eyes out. I have also given up on explaining the situation to people, they just don't seem to get it and they feel like it's easy to move on. It's been 10 months for us that our girl is not here and well it ain't easy to move on...life will never be the same!

ironically, the people i work for and with are basically the only people who seem to have the slightest understanding of the fact that i am still struggling at all. i can tell some of my friends how hard it is, but they wrinkle their faces and look worried that i would feel that way rather than getting it at all.

at my counselling appointment today i was talking about how none of my friends seem to get how hard it is. i know i need to tell them as projecting the information isn't helping, but i don't see why i have to do something so difficult when even just getting up in the morning is difficult.

i'm happy for pregnant friends. i just want to be happy for them from far away. i can't bear to be in a room with them.

it was tough for me as my sister had her son (the second family boy after 6 girls, Freddie was the first) 3 months after Freddie was born.

I haven't been able to see him.

I find one of the hardest things is the duality of all this - I'm so happy for people but devastated by their joy. I want this to never happen to anyone else and I want no one to ever bring home a baby again till I do.

And the simplicity with which my husband can just do one emotion, a good emotion, wears me out. I feel so dysfunctional compared to him.

It is interesting how many of you mentioned your husbands. I have a similar issue. I rant and rave and cry and he says....."well, I'm happy for them" Then I give him the evil eye. to his credit, he never tells me how I should feel, and always says he understands. But it is still irritating.

After this last loss, since we will be having more kids (I'm pretty sure anyway) it has just seemed so much harder to bear others news. It isn't that I want something bad to happen to them, I just want them to use birth control until I feel like I can handle it better. Is that so much to ask?

brokenheartdiaries.blogspot.com

Whoops, I meant We won't be having more kids on that previous post.

"Happy for people but devastate by their joy"...Merry, what a perfect way to sum up the dichotomy of it.

I also wish I could grieve the way my husband has. Mine is so much more tangled into every part of my life than his grief.

I've been fortunate to have had a lot of understanding friends...but I also know my grief tires people out. I tend to wear it inwardly now as we move further away from Will's death.

Yesterday while getting a pedicure (my first act of public self-care since we lost Otis) I was sat next to a woman who was very largely pregnant (due in two weeks, I later found out). And at first I gnashed my teeth and clenched my jaw and tried not to fall apart. And then she commented on my nail color, and I felt the need to make the requisite small talk: "when are you due" etc.

I think what I realized in retrospect is that I wasn't angry that SHE was pregnant, or even angry that people are pregnant all around me. Instead, I realized that I grieve when I see a pregnant person, because I will never again be "expecting" in that hopeful way - even if we are ever blessed to conceive again. I will never be the hopeful, giddy, exciting soon-to-be mom. I will always, always, always know that babies die. And that will shadow any sort of excitement over "expecting" - because, sadly, I fear, I will always "expect" the worst. So I grieve the loss of that hopefulness. I am angry that I never "get" to be that mom, ever again.

mrs g i think that's a perfectly reasonable thing to ask. i wish we could actually impose that on those close to us.

Sarah - your last paragraph put it perfectly.

(i mean wish, not ask, in my first paragraph)

Yes, Sarah.

It's not them - it's me. It's my own reflection from them. Not them.

That's what I remember trying to say in my blog - it's not them at all - it's me, and my own skewed world view, and I recognize that. But I can't change that. My view is necessarily altered by my own experiences. I just try to remember that my experience doesn't alter everyone's view.

It's the oblivious happiness, the ignorant bliss that gets me. I want to grab them and yell to appreciate every moment and cherish it because it can be gone in an instant. And yet, that isn't how life is lived. I remember so well how much guilt I felt for not loving and cherishing every second of Gabriel's pregnancy (before and after) but - there wasn't a lot to love. I was either very sick or bleeding and on bed-rest. I was still grateful, but the gratitude was a background noise covered by the sounds of vomiting.

And that's how it is - remembering that though, through green-tinged vision, and bitterness and a heart that is crying for something it can't have - that's hard.

I don't think anyone knows at all how to handle me as I have not left my house (save for 2 Dr. appointments) since Cullen died.

I know that right now I could not handle looking at pregnant women- I would just have to turn my head if I were actually a functioning member of society at the present moment.

The really sick thing in all of this-
How very much I just want to get back into a HEALTHY pregnancy. Seriously- it eats at me every day. I almost have a calendar for it- crossing off the days until we can try again. It is all consuming. And another sick thing- I don't even know if I can make it as long as the dr's have told us to wait (12 weeks)... I see myself jumping in for it when I eventually ovulate.. wonder how that would work out considering this was my 4th c-section.

So I guess I have a pretty warped view of other pregnancies at the moment:
Complete Repulsion followed by Absolute Longing

I on the other hand wanted desperately to leave my house, because the more time I spent home alone with my husband; I would have gone crazy. Luckily I found a job a month and a half after we lost Camila The ironic thing is that as soon as I set foot out the door I fell an anxiety over me, and didn’t want to leave my husbands side for a second I would start crying; but even then I move forward with the idea of getting out of my house. Everything would remind me of her in our house, her clothes, her furniture, etc. I too wanted to get pregnant again, basically pregnant soon so, I could have my baby back; but now I am unsure if I will even want to consider another pregnancy.

In my experience, people are totally clueless about this. I've told this story before, but here it is again:

Three weeks or so after I lost the twins I attended my niece's first birthday party. My SIL, who was very pregnant (in fact, our due dates were about a week apart) showed up. Somehow, it hadn't registered in my mind that she would be coming. I ran upstairs and hid in one of the bedrooms, crying.

My mother followed me to yell at me for spoiling the party and for my inability to share in my siblings' happiness. She honestly could not understand why this was difficult for me.