how easy it is to forget.

During the last week I've come across an amazing amount of blogs online by women who have lost their babies. I cry while I read their stories, because it brings back my pain fresh. But in a way, it has given me strength. I'm not the only one out there who has lost a baby, and some people lost their baby even earlier than mine. There is an entire community of women who have suffered silently. They all feel the loneliness that envelops you when you lose a baby. They all feel the guilt that is impossible to separate yourself from. They've all been told it wasn't their fault, or maybe it was. Maybe it's because they worked night shift or drank coffee or didn't exercise enough. Maybe it's because they hadn't read enough parenthood books. They've all been told the baby was better off dying, because otherwise it would be born messed up and probably have genetic issues. They've all been told the wives tales that everyone around them knows and thinks is helpful in this situation.

But none of that helps. None of it patches up your heart. Your mind may know it wasn't your fault, but your heart still screams that is was. Every time I've seen my doctor, he's made sure to remind me that I didn't do anything to cause this to happen. I know that. I remember everything from my education, from my nursing experience, and I know that short of doing drugs and alcohol, I couldn't have brought this on myself. Even then, had I been doing things like that to my body, that doesn't mean I would cause a miscarriage. I've seen more babies be born full term to drug addicts and alcoholics, and it makes me angry. I can't help it::I'm angry that they had a baby and I didn't.

It's amazing how common a miscarriage is, and yet how inept our society is at dealing with it. It's like a black cloud, the elephant in the room. It's the topic that nobody talks about, unless it has happened to you. Then you quietly take the newly grieving, baby-less mother aside and tell her that you understand, wrap your arms around her, and let her sob it out.

And then, everyone forgets. Your friends move on. Your family moves on. Sometimes even your husband moves on. And you are stuck with a flat stomach, lost pounds, and a broken heart. Everyone thinks you should be over it by now. And nobody realizes what a profound impact it has made on your life. That baby was a part of your, it was your life. You gave life to it, and then it was ripped away. It was suctioned out, or cruelly passed due to medication. You looked in your underwear and saw what you swear was your baby, and it was finally over. Or not.

You were told that it wasn't a real baby you lost. You were told that you were young, and would have plenty more babies. You were told that it was a blessing, it was God's plan. If you had tried to abort the same baby, at the same age, there would be protestors. There would be people calling you a murderer, saying that baby was a victim of a senseless death. But when that baby dies on its own, it's swept under the rug, and so conveniently forgotten. The subject is changed when you bring it up. Your own family members never ask how you are doing.

The words that people say because they just have to say something, are sometimes the cruelest. They don't realize that a simple "I'm so sorry" is the best.

And then it's forgotten. Perhaps people think that if they never talk about your baby, and act like it never happened, then you will heal faster. Maybe they truly do think that it wasn't real, in which case abortion should have alot more supporters. It's heart never beat, so apparently it never lived, regardless of the fact that cells are living. Nobody realizes that each morning when you wake up, you look in the mirror and expect a bump. You expect to feel the baby kick, and nothing is there. Perhaps that is what makes healing the hardest. Who knows.

People don't realize how much a part of you that baby is. They don't realize how entwined it was already in your heart. They forget, but I won't. My baby will always be a part of my life. I will think of it every day, and I long for the day that I am handed my baby in heaven. I will tell all my future children that they had an older brother or sister. It may be easy for other people to forget but not me.

I will never forget.