The following is a guest post. Have something you'd like to share on my blog? I am ALWAYS open to people sharing their perspectives! As always, guest posts do not necessarily reflect my personal feelings, but I think hearing from others is always helpful.
Kelli Dorschel is originally from Michigan and moved to South Florida 12 years ago, where she met her husband and put down roots. They have a 4-year-old daughter, and after losing two precious babies to miscarriage, are now expecting a baby boy in January 2016. Kelli has her Master's Degree in Environmental Education and works at a nature center where she is fulfilling her passion to teach visitors about nature. This is the first time she is sharing publicly about her losses.
In honor of Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, I am
writing this piece to help bring awareness about a potentially painful question
that many pregnant women will hear. Most
people are aware they shouldn’t ask women and couples questions regarding their
plans for children, but what about women who are clearly pregnant? I am currently in a situation and fielding a
question that I never before thought would be painful.
I am currently 26 weeks and noticeably pregnant. At my job, I interact with the visiting
public on a regular basis, and many times, people will comment on my pregnancy,
and I am routinely being asked, “Is this your first?” The first time this was asked to me, I felt
like I was hit with a ton of bricks and my eyes instantly welled with tears
because I didn’t know how to respond.
I have a healthy and happy four-year-old daughter who is the light
of my life, so this would seemingly be an easy question to answer, but it’s not. No, it isn’t my first, but surprisingly, this
simple question by a well-meaning person brought a flood of emotions similar to
when people would ask me when I was going to give my daughter a sibling,
clearly not knowing about my two miscarriages and the struggles of having
another child.
I have heard this question many times now (mostly at work as
my daughter is usually with me anywhere else I go) and I’m still torn about how
to respond. If I simply say “no” the
person will follow-up with “how many do you have?” I could respond that I have a four-year-old
daughter and leave it at that, but then I am filled with guilt for
intentionally not acknowledging my two other children. However, if I say that this is my fourth
child and I’ve lost two, the innocent person asking the question will be
immediately uncomfortable, and while at work, I want visitors to leave with a
positive and happy experience – not being made to feel bad by a staff
member. Some may suggest to just answer
“This is my fourth,” and be done with it, but again, there are always follow up
questions of, “How old, and are they boys/girls?” Meanwhile, I still have a difficult time
talking about my losses, and when the topic arises, tears readily flow.
Any way you cut it, the question is always uncomfortable for
me, whether it’s guilt from ignoring two of my children, or becoming emotional
in front of strangers, or speaking about something so personal with someone I
don’t even know. Maybe someday I’ll get
to a point where I can speak about it without getting emotional, but that day
has yet to come. Even so, if I am able
to speak openly about it, the person asking the question will still be
uncomfortable, so either way, it’s really a no-win situation. I would imagine that if someone has
experienced loss, they wouldn’t be asking the question in the first place,
because they would understand the potential impact of the question.
I then think about women who do not have a living child as I
do, but are experiencing pregnancy after loss and being asked this
question. I have an “easy” answer if I
choose to go that route, but many women do not, and I can’t imagine how they
answer, let alone how this question makes them feel! By asking this question, we may be
inadvertently prying into a very personal and private area of a woman’s
heart. Is it appropriate to ask a
stranger about such personal things? I
know that is not the intent of the person asking the question – they are just
making small talk, but it’s how the question could be perceived and the
emotional havoc it can wreak, and that’s what we need to realize.
Please do not misunderstand.
I’m not advocating silence about pregnancy and infant loss. I just know that I don’t really want to talk
about it with strangers, and I don’t want to lie about my precious babies in
Heaven! I feel that the woman should be
able to choose when and where and with whom she discusses the most horrific
thing that has ever happened to her. I
know that the person asking the question isn’t trying to open this can of
worms, but their question can do that in the woman’s heart.
Pregnancy and infant loss affects 1 in 4 women. Just think about that for a moment. Twenty-five percent of women have endured the
unimaginable. Please, let’s try to be
thoughtful when asking people about their plans for children or commenting on
pregnancies. I know I can’t speak for
everyone who is experiencing pregnancy after loss, but I can speak to my
experiences. I never gave a second
thought to answering that question when I was pregnant with my daughter, but
times have changed.
I’m hoping by sharing my experiences that we can all be a
little more aware of the power of words, and that pregnancy and infant loss
affects more people than we may realize. My recommendation would be that if you notice that a woman is pregnant and
you wish to comment, please just congratulate her and give her your best wishes
for a healthy pregnancy and baby. The
pregnant woman can then choose to engage or not engage in further conversation
with you on her terms, helping to avoid a potentially uncomfortable situation
for everyone.
1 comment:
I would like to appreciate you post. I must say it was an interesting inspiring story. Seriously after loss pregnancy is very hard to achieve. It becomes the complicated path. But everything is possible in this world. It can be achieved with the aid of reproductive technologies. Thank you so much for sharing.
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