Why "Baby Loss Crap"?

I chose this unconventional name after hearing myself say to close friends "yes, we're still doing this baby loss crap".

Or to a new family "yes, it is not fair, it's unexpected, it's messy, it's hard and at times, it's total crap".

Sometimes, when I'm feeling like I need to be totally truthful with the person standing in front of me I'll call it "baby loss crap".

There is no sweet phrase to describe this journey. I tried for years to make sense of it and to ask out loud the big question "why?"

I chose my words carefully, to spare the rest of the world the pain of knowing what this is truly like.

But being authentic is important to me and living one part of my life to meet the expectations of everyone else is taking too much energy.

This is the year that I promised myself I would take off the mask and show my true self.

And part of my true self is being authentically comfortable with my own journey, not just those I help.

So there it is: baby loss crap, the good, the bad, the ugly, but always true!

Sensitive

Experiencing the death of my baby has affected every part of my being. How I view the world, how I react to others, how I now envision the rest of my life.

Experiencing the death of my baby the second time has made the affects even more intense. Anything that I have lived since and continue to live now have been totally guided by these two heart wrenching  experiences.

Experiencing the deaths of six small babies that were born so early, we don't even know if they were boys or girls. Many people don't know we've had this many losses. It hurts to know that they often have strong opinions about how many children we should and did have. To have to say, one more time, "I'm sorry to tell you we lost another baby" meant often, we didn't tell. Bretton's death, followed by Ciara's death, marked the time in my life when I began to hear "she's very sensitive, be careful" and "sorry, we kept that from you because you're so sensitive."

I am sensitive. I’m sure I came out of the womb feeling sensitive to everything. The lights, touch, smells, the air. I can remember being a very young child and reacting to the emotions around me. For most of my life, others have described me as sensitive and each time I hear the term now as an adult, I cringe. I cringe, because it is never delivered to me as a positive attribute but one that I obviously need to work on, one that holds me back from moving forward and one that I have to carry as a descriptive burden of my personality. Loss has exacerbated these to the point that it takes me forever to let anyone in to my life and even then, those relationships may not be solid and long-lasting. I no longer trust, no longer try and no longer truly care.