At the end of her second pregnancy, Marianne gave birth to a healthy baby and to another beautiful baby she would soon bury. She had been pregnant with twins. The pregnancy went great. They felt so blessed to be adding 2 little babies to their family. They didn’t find out gender and Marianne was hoping to add at least one girl to her family. She had a young toddler boy already. And, she knew – boys or girls – she was ecstatic to be adding to her family in this big way. At her 37.5 week doctor’s appointment, the doctor could only find one heart beat. One of her babies had died. Ahhh. I don’t know…as a mother it’s tough to even write those words. I feel so much sadness for this family.
They decided to induce and give birth to the babies the next day. The next day Peter – happy and healthy Peter – was born first. They marveled for a moment over his gorgeous little body and his loud screams. Next, Madeline was born. The couple had additional family members in the delivery room with them. They took time holding Madeline, taking pictures of her, starting the grieving process…just beginning to feel the loss of what Madeline would never get to do, what time they would never spend together, what they would never get to know about her. It was precious to take the time. And, I can’t imagine the feelings they must have experienced.
Can you imagine? And, right there is Peter. A joy, a blessing, a little boy who needs his parents. Right there in Marianne’s delivery room – a whole range of emotions – hope, despair, excitement, grief. New life and a life cut way too short. How is a family to deal with this? Think about the next 6 weeks. 6 weeks where little Peter needs his parents around the clock, feedings throughout the night, getting to know his parents faces, taking cues from what they’re doing and how they’re being. Peter…not knowingly, but very really – keeping his parents at less than fully rested! Right?
And Madeline. Her parents are remembering her, grieving her death, wondering how they’ll go on, looking at her pictures, wondering what she’d look like at 2, 12, 22… How can one be with all of this?
The range of emotions – and why they were present – for Marianne and her family is obvious. They were dealing with 2 distinct happenings inside of the same experience. I thank Marianne for generously sharing this story.
Even though the vast majority of us will not experience the dichotomy that this beautiful family faced, there’s still a range of emotions – I believe – for us to be with after the birth of a child. There’s excitement, hope, love around the new person. The joy he brings us today, the pride and hope and fun he’ll bring to the world in the future, the awe of having created a being…and add your own list of emotions here…
There may also be other aspects to the experience. There are things that we lose or things that will no longer be the same – can’t be the same – after we give birth to a child.
For each of us, the range of emotions probably varies.
Please join the conversation: What range of emotions did you experience? Or do you expect to experience? How can one be with a full range of emotions – without having some invalidate others?
Amy, thanks for sharing that beautiful story. I had a couple of thoughts about my own experience to share.
One, was how I felt upon learning the sex of my children before they were born. Everyone knows that what you’re supposed to say when someone asks you “do you want a boy or a girl” is “Doesn’t matter, as long as it’s healthy.” And, that was really true for me too. Before I conceived, I was very afraid of having a boy. I didn’t know boys, hadn’t grown up around many of them, and felt totally baffled as to how I might raise one. I had the opportunity to assist on a series of parenting weekend workshops with moms and their sons, and I got to know boys in all their messy, rambunctious glory. This helped me envision myself as a mother of boys. Good thing too, since I have two now!
The other part of this was that when we found out we were having a boy the first time, we were delighted, but I also had a sort of mourning period for the potential girl that we were NOT having — no hair braiding, no frilly dresses, no mini-me… I was glad I knew the sex while I was still pregnant, so we could talk through all of this and be completely clear by the time of the birth.
With my second pregnancy, the main feeling I had when I found out another boy was on the way was RELIEF. Although parenting each kid is unique, I definitely had a feeling that I knew how to “do boys.” It is continually surprising to me to realize that I have very little regret about not having girls now — when people ask me “Are you going to try for a girl for a third?” I can confidently say “No way!” It’s been interesting to watch my own feelings evolve — and they may change again.
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On a whole other subject, one of the hardest feeling I have learned to be with is being angry at my babies. It’s one thing to feel mad at a whining 4 year old who’s pushing your buttons — I can feel completely justified on that one! But when a baby is unconsolable, and I just have feelings of rage come up in me, that was hard to deal with. With my first baby, I remember picking fights with my husband. He would say, “You’re not mad at me, you’re mad at the baby and taking it out on me!” It was so taboo for me to admit I was angry at that tiny, helpless little being, that my anger was leaking out all over the place.
Once I learned to admit and recognize those feelings of anger and resentment, I can deal with them much better. I was actually able to tell my 4 year old, “I’m really annoyed at your baby brother right now because he keeps crying, so could you help me out right now and play by yourself?” And, my husband and I know that feeling of “I need a break RIGHT NOW” and can tag team with each other.
Now, my babies were both on the whole, easy babies, not particularly colicky, and quite charming. But I think this happens with every parent. And parents of difficult, fussy or colicky babies need even more recognition and coping skills. I say, just because we love, adore, and want our babies, doesn’t mean they’re never a pain in the neck. It feels good to be able to admit this and keep on loving and parenting.
Jen, thank you for sharing these 2 stories.
I relate easily to both of them, as I am sure many others do. We just have our own version of them (ours involves the stunned silence in the room when the ultrasound tech told us our first was a girl… and me looking at the garage every 2 minutes to see if my husband’s home yet so I can get away for just a minute and feeling guilty about it because I’ve only been home with the kids an hour and a half…)
And, thanks for saying that it feels good to be able to admit these things. And, since you say that – I can imagine that it took something to share these stories. I acknowledge your courage. Thanks for letting us know that we don’t have to have it all together all the time and that it’s okay to say that we feel something other than complete bliss all the time!!