Stillborn Mother

I never imagined being a stillborn mother. 

Of course, I didn’t. 

We all think, “That could never happen to me.”

But then, when something tragic does happen, it changes us to our core.

And here I am over a year later, still wrapping my head around what this type of loss means to me.

I don’t want to be this person… this bereaved mother. 

I want to be holding my toddler.

I want to be seeing the milestones.

I want to be exhausted from all of the motherhood.

I want to be a mother.

But here I am… not truly identifying as a mother. I know that technically I am, but my motherhood has the qualifier “stillborn”.

The idea of motherhood that I live with is not the traditional version. And it honestly doesn’t feel good. I have shared before that I don’t feel like a mother and a lot of people said, “ I consider you one.” It’s such a weird feeling… having others see you as a mom but you don’t see it in yourself. It doesn’t upset me that others say this, but it comes with some baggage for sure.

I don’t get the so-called “good” parts of motherhood. Don’t get me wrong... I got some. The positive pregnancy test, feeling kicks, the baby shower, thinking of names, being told: “Happy Mother’s Day” (once)... I did get some. But then it all came to a halt.

“There isn’t a heartbeat.” 

That moment changed my life forever.

All of the nurses formed a rainbow arch around our bed and we all cried together.

I had the idea in my head that a mother took care of their growing child. They experienced major milestones with their baby that is alive. 

Alive.

That’s the part that I’m missing. And we can all acknowledge that it’s the lion’s share of being a mother.

Moving on in life still happens. I will admit though, I had the thought of taking my own life to be with Clementine. It was in the middle of the night and I couldn’t sleep and I considered the idea. But then I rolled over and looked at my husband and knew we could do this together. But I think this idea is normal. It’s not necessarily healthy, but when you lose your baby all you want to do is be with them. I think that is a natural feeling and part of the bond a mother and child have. 

But then what happens after that? How do you live with this pain? Honestly, I work on this every day. I don’t think of taking my life anymore, but the aches are still a part of me… and getting comfortable with that takes practice. 

Grief makes you a different person and you never know until you experience it. I think this saying goes for most things we live through. You come out of the event as a new version of yourself. You start to see the entire world with a new perspective.

I remember our grief counselor saying, “You will start to go out into the world seeing everyone live their lives… but yours will be different. Your life will have a loss in it, now. And you’ll miss that life you had prior.” I still think about this today. I remember my first walk outdoors after Clementine died. As I passed people on the trail I waved and thought, “They have no idea.” But you know what? Today I think about that and think, “We have no clue what other people are going through. No fucking clue.” Maybe those people on the trail do know the grief I carry. 

With October being Pregnancy & Infant Loss Awareness Month I had some things planned to share and discuss online… and then when it came time to share I sort of lost my shit. And that’s the thing with grief, you never know when she will show up… but you must let her show up. We won’t survive without that grief. The memories we carry may be heavy, but they are all we have now.

If you are also a bereaved mother know that you are not alone in this. Feel free to reach out at any time to chat. If you would like to read about my stillborn delivery check out this post, it’s a lot, but it’s me! 

And if you know a bereaved mother always bring up their baby or child. Say their name. Acknowledge their existence. 

They will love you more for it.