Recently, I was reading a blog by a wonderfully intelligent woman who asked if anyone who had ever miscarried named the babies. It�s funny because I have been thinking about that for quite sometime. Many years ago I suffered the loss of a baby myself. Nobody in my family ever talked about it. It was if it never existed. For the most part I have gone on with my life and I now am the mother of 3 beautiful children. Still, the memory has haunted me. That child would�ve been 14 now. Anyway, I responded to her question with this (corrected the year though):

14 years ago I became pregnant and went out right away and bought A

Child Is Born and some sleepers. I was young (only 18) and hopeful. I

daydreamed about my baby and gazed for hours at the pictures in the

book and noted how much my baby grew each week. At almost 13 weeks I

had my first real appointment. The nurse (it was planned parenthood)

checked my cervix and all and looked at the little wheel. My baby was

due May 17th. She told me if I were lucky it would be born on mothers

day. She checked for the heartbeat but couldn't find it. She told me

not to worry that wasn't unusual. So I went home walking on clouds

thinking about May and Mothers Day. By the time I got off the bus and

walked home I started to bleed. I started to panic and called the

nurse. She told me to lie down for a while and it would be ok. I did but

by nightfall the pain was so bad I was in tears and told my mom to

take me to the ER. She did and because we had no money they (the

ER) made me wait in the waiting room

m for 3 1/2 hours before they saw me. By then I was bleeding heavily

and they said there was nothing they could do and sent me home. I was

told to go see the doctor the next day. The pain continued through

the night and the next day at the dr.s office I had to sit in the

waiting room amongst heavily pregnant women. Again I was told to wait

despite the fact that I was miscarrying. About an hour later I went

into the bathroom and the pain was so bad I doubled over and the baby

passed into the toilet. I couldn't even look. I closed my eyes and

cried as I flushed the toilet. I went back in and waited another 30

minutes before I was seen. I was given a DNC and lay there crying as

the doctors and nurses talked about today�s lunch. One said "there was

no pregnancy tissue in there". That's what they called my baby, a

pregnancy tissue. I couldn't utter a word. I just cried. I never knew

if I had a boy or a girl. I always felt boy though. I never even had

a name picked. To this day I wish I had had a name for my baby. I don't know if it's right to give

it a name now. But they baby was mine and inside me and it did exist

but it's never been mentioned again in my family. But to me he was

really real and he was mine. I have never written about this before but

it's been on my mind for so long. Would it be OK if I named him here?

Maybe some of the old pain would ease if I knew somebody, somewhere

new that I once carried a baby and he would've been my little

Christopher. Thanks for letting me share.

That was the first time I had ever written about or talked about that child since I don�t know when. I cried as I wrote it. I grew up in the way that, when bad things happen you just don�t talk about it and it will disappear. Well, I didn�t want my baby to disappear. He was there and he did count if only for a short while and if only to me. I told my husband later what I had written and the name I�d given. Even though it wasn�t his child I carried he was sensitive and understanding as always.

I got an email today from Tertia, the woman whose blog I read and she acknowledged my son and his existence, the first person ever to do that. She even used the name I�d given him. Again I cried. It meant so much to me and I can�t thank her enough. I feel so much better now.

1 comments so far

Previous - Next