Thursday, 10 November 2011

Pink Blossom

I went to the toilet then I wiped. There was blood. Ordinarily, and once a month, not such bloggable news. But on this afternoon it was, as I was 11 weeks pregnant.

It wasn't until I became a stepmother that I discovered how adept a woman can become at holding her tongue. And it wasn't until I had a miscarriage that I realised how much goes on in women's lives that doesn't get talked about openly.

What are we hiding? What are we afraid will happen if we assert a new kind of openness?

It's funny that what prompted me to blog about it is what one man said and what another man sang. Maybe funny's the wrong word.

PJ wrote a poem about losing our baby and our dear friend Anthony Petrucci put it to music.

Here it is: the sadness and the wonder of it all.


Kathryn said...

I would love to listen to the song, as I too lost a baby at 10 weeks. BUT there is no sound. :(

Cowan said...


emgib said...

lots of love meg - beautiful words and music

Umatji said...

Meg and PJ,
so sorry to hear this news. Every time you talk about you book on step mothering it reminds me of the book that I have started and not kept going with for a while on miscarriage and how our culture does and doesn't do grieving. with stories. I have written my own story over and over. you are right - it is the untalked of - until you talk of it and then it is everywhere. anyway, big love at this time. my baby sleeps beneath an apple tree.
go well

Leigh @ Toasted said...

You already know that I've experienced my own miscarriage. And I also was gobsmacked at the thick, muffled wall of silence around it. And yet still, sometimes I'm scared to talk about it for fear the grief will start pouring and just not stop. So, somehow, I contribute to the silence sometimes. It's such an intangible grief you know?

My love and thoughts are with you and your family Meg. You are not alone with this. xx

Another Outspoken Female said...

Beautiful poem and song. Big hugs to you both.

And as for silence - so many things to do with sex and progeny. Rape, not-quite-rape sex with "friends", abortion, miscarriage, unelective c-sections. Though none of these should carry shame, I suspect Brene Brown got it right when she wrote her thesis on the subject. When we don't live up to the Disneyworld image of perfection I think most women burry the experience under a ton of shame, believing it's their fault somehow and don't talk about it. IMHO.

Meg said...

Thank you to everyone who commented, emailed, texted and phoned. Your concern and encouragement means an awful lot to me, to us.

For those who have been through something similar, or who would just like to read more, here is an excellent essay sent to me by a friend about one woman's loss, for want of a better word.

With much love,


Bessa's Girls said...

Love to you sweet, courageous, strong, forthright, brilliant Meg And PJ,

I am sorry to hear and I wish that words were the right carriers of these bushels of love to you. They just don't do.

There should be more baring of truth. What will happen? Why is it intimidating to show our heartbreak to others? Good questions...

To shameless honesty.
Love love love

Myfanwy said...

I lost 2 pregnancies and what surprised me the most was that men were often the ones who expressed the most sadness on hearing the news. Women seemed to want to move along, get on to the next thing, next pregnancy, next child, next subject. It is probably one of the last taboos. No-one seems to know how to deal with it.

I am so sorry, Meg.

Tricia said...

Thank you for sharing Meg.

I think its lovely for you to have a poem and such a beautiful song to acknowledge your baby.

Wishing you and your family strength.

I haven’t been so open about my losses. I think the main reason I’ve kept our losses close is to avoid unintentionally hurtful remarks from others who just don't understand the loss. We need brave mothers such as you to increase awareness and empathy. Thank you. x t.

Catherine Ryan said...

Dear Meg and PJ

Thanks so much for sharing your pure raw and beautifulsad poem/song. So so sorry for you. Daydd and i send our love.

And big thanks to everyone who has commented and shared their stories. This silence around miscarriage (and i was only crying with yet another friend with her grief today) was such a huge part of why i had to write my essay (see Meg's earlier comment). It's been 3.5 years since our first baby died and since then i've kind of made a point of talking about that little one's short internal life and passing to anyone who asks me anything about my fertility/childbearing (and don't some people make outrageous assumptions and ask outrageously rude questions???) in a small effort to normalise this very common, but silenced, sadness - allowing of course that i feel comfortable, safe and strong enough to do so. Which is sometimes shockingly hard when the grief just jumps out and surprises me yet again.

Empathy to all women and men in your/their griefs. Cath.