Saturday 15 September 2007

A Taboo Topic

I know. I'm going from cute kid fluff to serious topics and it's scary, but this has been weighing on me all summer. A friend told another friend who thought she might be pregnant not to tell anyone, not anyone, until she's at least 3 months along. Why? Two reasons, it is considered bad luck and/or she might miscarry.

Right. IMHO this is specifically a reason TO share and share early. How are we supposed to support each other otherwise?

She and many others miscarry their babies. Not having shared the possible joy they can not share their grief. It is isolating and heartbreaking to face such a huge thing alone, likely over and over again. One of my virtual blogger friends is blogging about this right now. How very brave of her. She's facing the added emotional facet of running an Internet business that caters to custom made baby things. Can you even imagine how hard this must be for her? Also, knowing that others have had loss doesn't help. It doesn't lessen the fear, pain, and the heartbreak.

I cried reading her posts. It really got me wondering why the topic is so taboo and where it got its roots, but I couldn't find anything. I did find this:

Besides the feeling of loss, a lack of understanding by others is often important. People who have not experienced a miscarriage themselves may find it hard to empathize with what has occurred and how upsetting it may be. This may lead to unrealistic expectations of the parents' (plural) recovery. The pregnancy and miscarriage are hardly mentioned anymore in conversation, often too because the subject is too painful. This can make the woman feel particularly isolated.

Interaction with pregnant women and newborn children is often also painful for parents who have experienced miscarriage. Sometimes this makes interaction with friends, acquaintances and family very difficult.

I found this on a comment section of A Little Pregnant:
There's an unreasonable taboo against talking about infertility and miscarriage. I learned that the hard way after having a grisly 2nd-trimester miscarriage in 2002. Since I'd had such a public miscarriage -- I'd gone from having a noticeable pregnant belly complete with kicking baby inside to being flat-stomached and irrepressibly weepy -- many friends came up to me with stories of miscarriages and fertility problems I never knew they'd had. Friends. Good friends. People I'd seen naked, for godsakes, and they'd never dared to speak about their miscarriages until I had mine......I just can't understand why it's considered OK for mothers to discuss baby poop blowouts and how many stitches they got in the perineum after labor, and yet we're still shy about talking about pregnancy failure.

I found another passage that linked the shame of pregnancy loss to the fathers and that historically it was looked at as their failure. That's why it was shameful to speak of it historically. So why are we still holding on to that?

I don't understand. If a friend of mine were suffering I would want to know and I would want to help, not that there is anything at all anyone can do. I can't think of the right things to say to end these thoughts.

4 comments:

  1. I will say, as a woman who's lost two babies and not told anyone about the pregnancies until the babies were lost...were I to be pregnant again, I still wouldn't tell.

    Why? 1) I like the privacy, the feeling of having a wonderful secret.
    2) After the first loss, I spent the second pregnancy fairly worried and upset. Telling others seems as though it would help...but many times, it doesn't. People either don't take the concerns seriously enough and so make you feel worse about your very normal feelings, or they add to the burden by adding their worry to yours.
    3) There is, in the end, nothing anyone can do. Having others worry with you...I've found doesn't help.
    4) It actually makes it easier for me to take my mind off being worried to be around people who have no reason to be worried or to think I am/should be worried. Being around normal people living their normal lives.

    I have a select group of people I tell. Two or three friends.

    ReplyDelete
  2. All very good reasons Sarah. In the end it is every woman's choice how to heal, how to handle a pregnancy, and how much information to share.

    Just know that you are in my thoughts.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I know I had mentioned that we didn't tell FAMILY we were pregnant until after three months. Friends, on the other hand, I did. I knew I would need the support if something did happen. Just a few friends, though. I think with me it was the thought of later having to explain that I no longer was if something happened. And, if something started going wrong with this pregnancy, like it did with Liv, my family would be the last to know. There is something about the bond between women who are close in age with similar beliefs and feeling comfortable letting them into those areas of your life like grieving, and doing the same with family. Its like the detachment given by not being relatives lends come weird sort of safety. But, totally with Sarah, just a handful of friends knew this time around, too. In fact, I still have family who do not know. They are like cousins and are upset that I didn't call them months ago. Um, and we talk how often? My plan was just announce with a picture containing an extra little person in the yearly Christmas letter. If you can't figure that out (oh, or the WATERMELON on my front side), well then, you didn't need to know.

    ReplyDelete
  4. After spending the weekend with family, I am strongly considering waiting to tell them until the baby is in college. I think it might be better for all involved.

    I did tell my friends. I am very busy with many IHE things, Girl Scouts, and church. I needed my friends to understand if I was having an off day, or month. I am not just flaking out on them and I wanted them to know why I seem a little stressed.

    ReplyDelete

A blog about farming, unschooling, feminism, 22q deletion syndrome, cooking real food, homesteading, permaculture, and motherhood.