There is a fucking big elephant in the room, and he is sitting on me.
No one says anything.
That's alright. They can't see it. I don't seem to be under any duress, so they don't bother to ask me if I am okay.
Some of them do see it, and they ask how I am, but they don't want to hear the answer. So I just reply, 'yeah good thanks. And you?'
Some of them can sort of see it, but they don't say anything. You don't talk about the elephant in the room. You just don't. Haven't you read the rules on these things? And anyway, isn't it time you moved on?
Some of them have their own elephants sitting on them, which I cannot see. I have no idea to ask about their elephants, for they too, appear to not be under any strain from the load they bear. Stoic soldiers of life, going about their business and asking people how they are and politely smiling at the responses.
And very occasionally, someone walks in and sees my elephant, and wants to know everything about it. And to that, I respond with, 'I don't want to talk about the goddamn elephant.' I am not supposed to. It isn't in the rules. And, I really really don't want to, so please shut up.
The elephant sitting on me is the miscarriage we, umm, suffered/endured/encountered two weeks ago. What IS the adjective you use? No one actually knows. The elephant must not be mentioned. It isn't like depression where if you can talk about it, you just say you are 'battling' it. Or cancer, where you also say you are 'battling' or 'fighting' it. Or diabetes, which for some reason is associated with 'suffering'. Perhaps an appropriate adjective you could have for miscarriage is 'living with' or 'covering up'.
"I have been busy covering up my miscarriage. And how was your weekend?"
Today I broke those goddamn rules. I wrote a post about the elephant and shared it with my world. I actually wrote it two weeks ago but took it down as I didn't think I should be uncovering such sentiments. Today I unlocked those again. And I had no idea of the response I would receive. It has been totally overwhelming the responses and heartfelt messages from so many. Overwhelming being an understatement.
I have generally found it really hard to talk about. Super hard. This does not make conversation or a transfer of people's sympathy to us on the topic very easy. On the day we found out, I tried to call my parents to let them know. I was lost for words. Too hard to say the right ones, too hard to find the associated adjective. Silence was the best adjective. I then followed this with super classical Kübler-Ross stages of grief. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression...I guess I am still kinda stuck on that one.... before finally, acceptance. I'll get there, eventually..
So many other people cover up their miscarriage too. To be honest I had no idea just how many people had buried their miscarriage until I shared my post on the topic. So many people came forward, unearthing their pain and their covered memories. I was shocked and saddened. Why didn't I know this? Why couldn't I offer my condolences to them when it really mattered? My words seem so pitifully late now. Why couldn't I have asked them how they were, when they needed someone to show that they cared about their elephant and the pain and suffering it had caused them?
Why IS it so hard to talk about? I know I don't want to talk about it, but I am astonished that this seems to be the case for everyone else too. This really shocks me. Is it a guilt associated from the perception of someone being at fault? Is it shame for the failure? Is it because everyone assumes no one else can relate to the loss? Which is, I think, fair enough. No one else has a shared memory to cherish of their own; they never met or bonded with what was lost. Perhaps it feels a bit fake. You didn't see it, so did it really exist? And if they couldn't bond with it, how is it that we are so affected yet never 'bonded' with it either? Which is admittedly a flawed logic, but I am just trying to get my head around this general response. As with everyone else who has gone through this, there has been no faking. And, just like everyone else, there was a bond for us; an inexplicable one.
Or maybe - god forbid - no one believes it is worthy of being talked about?
I tried googling support groups etc but they seem a bit over the top. One focuses on giving everyone a bear. I can see that getting slobbered on by a 15month old girl and quickly losing its intended purpose. But I don't want to hug a stuffed bear. And I don't know if I want to talk to anyone else who thinks that a stuffed bear is useful.
My questions about the elephant have not been answered. I don't really know who to ask them to. They are:
- What do I call 'it'? Do I give 'it' a name? We hadn't decided on any name and it was too young to determine the sex.
- What do I say when people ask me if I am pregnant? I had two people ask me this at the cycling on the weekend and one of the staff at childcare this morning. I know, I really must need to lose some weight. But what do I say? My general response was, 'I can guarantee you that I am not pregnant. Seriously.' but I didn't add to that. And they didn't ask either. Perhaps they saw the elephant and ran.
- How do I remember 'it'? I don't have any photos (the obs didn't print out the first scan picture). I don't have anything that it did in particular to remember it by compared to our first pregnancy. Actually, it did make me crave caesar salad. Perhaps I could frame a picture of a salad and hang it up on the wall, so in later years when my daughter asks, 'tell me about the salad, Mum,' I'll say, 'once upon a time I used to throw up a lot, but one of the only things I could eat was this type of salad....'
- What date do I recognise? The conception date? The date we discovered it wasn't alive, or the date when it was 'relocated'?
- How do I tell people? I tried this last weekend at the cycling. I thought I would tell my colleagues there, just to get it out in the open. They looked at me like I had just slapped them with a wet hanky. They were speechless. It was awkward. I started mumbling something, 'you know, so just so you know, you know...' and they hurried back with, 'Well, ummm, we are really sorry...'
I don't even know what it is that I want. I certainly don't want to have everyone feeling sorry for us. But I don't want there to be an expectation that I should be over it and getting on with life. I am not ready yet, and I think I am far from there at the moment. I know I am under an elephant, and it ain't moving. Thank you for noticing, and thank you for not talking to me about it.
