Can you Keep a Secret?

Chances are, a Mother of Loss can.  Chances are, she suffers silently and privately.  Chances are, she holds her loss in a quiet place and doesn't talk about it - not because she doesn't want to, but because it's so very hard to find an accepted place in our society for it.   

Now, as you can see, I have not taken that silent approach, but that doesn't make it any easier.  I know a handful of people visit my blog regularly - my close friends and family - and I know I have a few other followers whom I have met along this journey.  But, I am always thinking twice on whether or not I should post something on my Facebook page, whether or not people will really want to hear what I have to say.  I mean, how long can I really expect everyone to keep paying attention to my grief?  "Oh, there she goes again.  We get it.  She's sad."     I don't think it's a feeling of annoyance from people, but I know the more often I post things relating to this journey, the greater chance I take of making people's eyes glaze over with over-stimulation.  And there are times I want to talk about Kenley, but I don't because I realize that it is not really the right moment, or I am not around the right people.

In general, people don't know what to do with someone who is grieving. They know it is happening, but they don't feel equipped to handle it appropriately, so they move along.  Not out of callousness, but out of feelings of incompetence.  These feelings are compounded when it is a baby that dies.  The death of a baby is unlike any other grief.  It is not just the loss of life - it is the loss of possibility.  Nobody knows what to do when a baby dies.   They just want to make things better.  They want to soothe the wound, but they don't want to acknowledge that it is there.  And then, they want to pretend that this is a one time event that will never happen again.   Well, maybe not in your general life it won't - but it will happen to others.  Countless others.  And there needs to be a place for our grief.   


It saddens me when I hear stories of women who haven't talked about their baby for years.  Because it was too painful to think about.  Because everyone else moved on and told her to do the same.  Because the complex emotions that entangle you when you lose a part of yourself can often be suffocating.   
Because she felt guilty smiling when she thought of the happiness she felt towards her own child.   It's not fair that she has to suffer this loss and can't even find a comfortable way to deal with it.   It is wrong.

Women who lose their baby not only want to mourn them, but they want to celebrate them.   We need to be sad and angry.  We need to work through the countless negative emotions that come with our situation, but we also need to be able to be joyous in the life we created.   The beautiful and wonderful life that grew inside of us for however many months.  We are proud of that life, no matter how long it was on this earth.   Fiercely proud.  We want to share these feelings of pride and joy and wonder with you, but we also don't want that happiness to be misconstrued for lack of grief.  We will always grieve.  Until the day we die, we will grieve for our baby, but that doesn't mean we don't want to talk about them.  There needs to be a place where we are allowed to be sad without someone uneasily patting us on the back.  A place where we can cry without hushed whispers and sideways glances.  But also a place where we can glow and sparkle when we talk about the way our baby's hair fell across her forehead, or the way she loved to spin inside us without people assuming we have moved on and are fine. Because we are not fine. There is a duality to our situation that doesn't fit into this world.  Square peg, round hole.  For the rest of our lives, we will be full of both sorrow and joy.  The showing of one does not mean the other is no longer there.  


There are many organizations that are trying to break the silence about stillbirth and infant loss, and I applaud them.  Still Standing Magazine, The STILL Project, and the movie Return to Zero, are all trying to bring a voice to the voiceless.  They are talking - publicly - about what no one wants to.  They are giving women who would normally stay quiet the ability to make noise.  I make noise here on One Pink Balloon.  I make noise on Facebook and among my own circles.  I will make noise as long as I live - and I hope one day every woman who has to endure this pain will make just as much, if not more. 

The STILL project has a tagline "Say It Out Loud", which means talk about your loss.  Say your baby's name.  Tell people about your child and what they meant to you.  I have been doing this from the very beginning, and I am now convinced it has been an enormous part of my healing.   If you are a mother of loss, Say It Out Loud in the comments.  Let the world (Or at least the people in my tiny corner of the world) know how proud you are of your baby.   If you have not experienced this loss, share this post with someone who has.

Let the secret out!