Due Date

Friday was the projected birth date of the baby boy I lost last year. It was a difficult day at the end of a difficult week.

My life’s been characterised by a period of emotional intensity, change and revival since I miscarried my baby last August - it was my third consecutive miscarriage. The love and care of family, friends and virtual strangers helped me survive the aftermath and the callous indifference of others.

I gave my baby a name when I lost him after carrying him in my womb for three months. He was part of me. To me, his mother, he already had an identity and I had ascribed characteristics to him...along with hopes and dreams for his future. Giving him a name has allowed him to live in my memory.

This approach to grieving for a baby lost in-utero is difficult for some to fathom. My own partner wasn’t comfortable with the idea of naming our baby - something I did quietly in my own heart. But for me, naming the pain, the grief, and the baby, aid the healing necessary for recovery from miscarriage - and, in particular, multiple miscarriages - both at a personal level and a societal one. That said, grief – particularly grief expressed for the unborn – is a very personal experience and every person responds differently to it. There’s no manual...no ten-step plan. And, in our culture, not a lot of ritual.

So, how have I coped with the sadness and sense of loss since I last wrote about my miscarriage in October? With a lot of distraction, denial and by focussing on my other identities: friend; sister; lover; partner; scholar; journalist; teacher. I’ve looked to the future; made plans; travelled – physically, mentally and emotionally. But, I haven’t been brave enough to re-visit the miscarriage medically. I underwent a barrage of tests in October and I’ve been referred to a specialist in fertility and recurrent miscarriage with a view to planning another pregnancy. But I haven’t been able to bring myself to make the appointment with her.

Yes, I’ve been busy with work...and busy focussing on me. Not in a selfish way – in a nurturing way. But the real cause of the delay has been fear...and unpreparedness. I think I needed time...for grief and to allow him to live in my memory and heart – at least long enough to have been born.

Now that his ‘birth-day’ has passed, I feel I can move on...maternally speaking. I consciously decided to give myself 12 months to recover from the miscarriage before trying to have another baby. Before the year’s up, I have 120 journalism students to get through the semester, PhD and other research to progress, and a teaching placement in South Africa to look forward to. Life is rich...I’m a multi-dimensional woman and the future is unknown. But, I’m excited by the unknown. Such possibilities; such opportunities; such hope...

Go with the angels, baby boy, and I’ll continue to walk where angels fear to tread.