Every year, the second Sunday in May is dedicated to all the hardworking and dedicated mothers out there. It's a day when children honor their mothers for everything they do, a day full of love that's all about the special bond between mother and child.
But what makes a mother? It sounds like a silly question. Obviously, a mother is someone who has a baby, someone who spends days and nights changing diapers and making bottles, someone who sings lullabies and rocks her baby back to sleep, someone who wakes up every day and gets to hold her baby in her arms.
But here's another question: can you be a mother when your baby isn't with you anymore? Can you be a mother even if you don't change diapers or make bottles or sing lullabies? Can you be a mother even if your baby left before he or she was ever born?
Miscarriage is something that often goes overlooked, and there is very little acknowledgement or support for an event that is very difficult for those who have experienced it. Acela Spiegelberg of Coppell, Texas describes miscarriage in a simple but very honest way:
"It's one of those things where you mourn for a child, seemingly alone. It's a very strange experience, the loss of something that was intangible. I will always wonder what this child would have been like, and how old he would be now. However, I always remind myself that I may not have my two loves [her children now], that this lost child was just not meant to be a part of my life."
She's right; survivors of miscarriage do mourn for their child seemingly alone. This is because the loss that comes with miscarriage is often minimized. People often differentiate between miscarriage and losing a child after he or she had been born, believing that losing a baby due to miscarriage is much less significant or painful than losing a baby after having carried that baby to term and delivered.
No matter what, losing a child is a tragic, heartbreaking event that no one should ever have to endure. Whether a child is lost after being born or while still developing in the womb, a child is still lost and a mother still mourns.
So the stigma surrounding miscarriage is unfair and unjust. What is it about miscarriage that makes saying the word as taboo as saying Voldemort?
Well, miscarriage can be an awkward subject, as people often feel unsure of what to say. Even doctors tend to ignore the emotions involved and instead just focus on facts, undermining the emotional impact it has. This makes some women feel like they are being overly dramatic, in turn forcing them to internalize their very real emotions. Then there is the controversial topic of being pro-life or pro-choice. Perhaps minimizing the severity of miscarriage stems from an unconscious pressure of pro-choice organizations to avoid making miscarriage a big deal, because doing so could suggest that a fetus is a human life, supporting a pro-life position. However, politics really should not hold any weight when considering an event such as miscarriage. Whether someone is pro-choice or pro-life, if they experience a miscarriage and are in pain and mourning, their political views should not matter. What should matter is that what they feel is very real, and their feelings of heartache will not disappear by simply avoiding the subject.
Miscarriage is a very personal and private loss, but it is still a loss. Here is a story one woman shared about her miscarriage and how it affected her:
"I was only four weeks along when I miscarried. That means that my baby was only the size of a poppy seed. Truthfully, I didn't even know that I was pregnant but I knew right away that there was something very wrong. The physical pain subsided quickly, thanks to the help of doctors in the emergency room, but the emotional pain never really went away. It took me a long time to admit to anyone what had happened. I felt like I had done something wrong, like it was my fault. Everything I read online painted miscarriage as something people don't talk about, so I didn't. I kept it to myself and mourned silently every day for my baby. Eventually, I did find the courage to talk to someone about it, and by doing so was able to accept what had happened, moving forward in the grieving process. I lost my baby in November, and it's May now, but I still think about her every day. She is the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I fall asleep. I still wonder what she would have been like, if she would have had my smile or her father's eyes. There is no magic pill to make the pain go away, and I'll remember her for the rest of my life, but there is a way to grieve to help you accept what happened. It is important that survivors of miscarriage talk about it, and I wish that society would be more accepting of such a miserable event."
If we can recondition society to be more accepting of discussions of miscarriage, survivors will receive more support and, in turn, be able to express their feelings in a healthy way. Mother's Day isn't just about the moms who hold their children in their arms, it's about all moms, even the ones who hold their children in their hearts.
