Nameless Disease

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What do you call a woman who has lost a baby? Someone who had a miscarriage or a still born baby? We are nameless. The condition is nameless. Are we just called barren women? Give me a name. Something to label me, because I think I need that. I need a giant scarlet B on my chest. Give me something. I’m struggling with this more and more everyday. No, I don’t want a medal for what I’ve gone through, but some recognition that I once had a child inside of me would be nice. Understanding why I’m going mad would make us both feel better… because I’m just getting crazier and crazier and the outside world has no idea.

For example, let’s say, that I had cancer. I lost a lot of weight due to chemo and my hair all fell out. Would I be ashamed? Would I be screaming at the world, why me? Why did I have to get cancer? No, probably not. Would have I to ask people to give me some time, to let me nap. I wouldn’t have to explain why I was depressed and jealous of all the women who still had their hair. I would be understood and the feelings and emotions that I was having would be understood. I would be wearing pink everything. I would get a pretty fleece jacket with the pink embroidered ribbon on it. I would go out with my bald head and I would be a proud cancer survivor. What’s difficult with these losses is that with miscarriages, there’s no badge of honor. There’s no one who says, “I have three dead babies and I lived through it.” Why do we hide this? Why are we so ashamed? Why is this so taboo? Why do I feel ashamed to tell people that I work with an organization that deals with dead babies dying. Why do I shy away or get angry when someone asks if I have kids? Why do I get angry when they ask if I want kids someday. Yes, someday would be fabulous. Why does it feel like I’ve committed a social blunder why I finally do say yes, I would like a baby, but we just haven’t been fortunate enough to have one yet.

When I was very young, I never dreamed of my wedding day. Ever. I never saw myself having a husband. I don’t know why… But I never saw myself married. The only thing I ever knew I wanted was a baby. I always saw myself as a mother. There was never a question or doubt in my mind that I wouldn’t have children.

But now we’re having those talks. That maybe it will just be him and me. This might be it. We might only have each other. And every month that becomes more and more of our reality. And this cancer might just eat me alive.

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