The holidays can be a lonely time for those who have experienced the loss of someone they love. For the one in four women who have suffered infant loss, it can be a time of constant and back to back ripping off on the band aid. We will make plans to spend time with those we love and bask in the holiday cheer. Those we haven’t seen in a while are in town and we are intentional about making time for them. This next question may be preceded by small talk. Then, comes the inevitable question: “When are you going to have some babies?” “What are you waiting for?”, or some variation of that question.
For us, it’s always, “DJ would be a great big brother.”
And the band aid is ripped off and exposed again. Add a little salt this time.
There’s nowhere to run or to hide. I am exposed in my most vulnerable state. I am embarrassed. I am horrified. I am enraged. I am broken.
I know people don’t understand how embarrassing this question is. I mean, you just asked me about my sex life over bacon and eggs. I haven’t taken my coat off and you’re asking me about what’s happening in my vagina. And not just my sex life, my significant others. And it’s simply none of your business. It’s also embarrassing because this comment is ALWAYS directed at the mother, implying that SHE is the reason she is not conceiving, when men contribute to 50% of global cases. Also, it suggests that my entire worth is tied to the offspring I can produce. It doesn’t matter that I’ve been a part of this family for 32 years. My educational and professional accolades don’t matter. The fact that I served my country honorably for 7 years is close, but still….. doesn’t matter because I have not produced a second child.
The rage portion of this comes from a place of brokenness. It’s the cavalier way people think they can ask about my loss. My emptiness. My Self-loathing. My Anguish. You inquire about my loss or my struggle as flippantly as you ask about the weather. Every missed opportunity to conceive, every negative pregnancy test, every miscarriage is my personal loss. And you rush right past it. There is no acknowledgement for the pregnancies lost or that never came to be. And that is infuriating. You don’t get to not contribute to our healing and inquire about our most painful experiences. We are angry at our circumstance and angry at our wombs and angry…… that you don’t see. You see, we carry this agony with us every day. You can hear it in our voices, see it in our eyes. And you haven’t stopped to notice.
We’ve become so accustom to this village mentality without actually behaving as a village. The short and sweet? We don’t want to discuss the inner workings (or lack thereof) of our reproductive systems.
The short and sweet?
Mind your own womb.
*This blog post is written in remembrance and in honor of Angel Baby #2. You would’ve been three years old November 29, 2019. (Which is how long it’s taken Mommy to finish this post). We love and miss you every day.*
~ Love Always, your parents, David & Nichelle Clark Sr.
