Quite some time after my miscarriage, I read a newspaper article about a Dolphin at the Minnesota Zoo who delivered a still born calf. I had read other articles in anticipation of the baby dolphin's arrival. The sad news of her tragedy, left me heartbroken.
In the article, it mentioned how after a dolphin calf is born the mother lifts the baby up to the surface, using her nose, to take in his/her first breath of air. Normally, then, the dolphin calf will start to swim, and mother and baby begin to bond. No one knew that this dolphin calf was no longer alive, until after it was born.
Just after the birth, the mother Dolphin did not understand. She followed her instinct. The article described how she kept pushing the calf up to the surface of the water, and how the lifeless calf would then sink back to the bottom. The mother would then, again, swim back down and again lift the baby to the surface. This went on for quite awhile, over and over, the mother was trying to get her baby to take that first breath. She did not want to accept what was reality.
I thought I had dealt with my feelings about my own miscarriage, but reading this story about the mother dolphin, brought it all back. I could completely identify with her. I did not want to accept it, when I first got my terrible news, either. She had no reason to believe there was a problem. Just like me, she had carried this baby and (I'm sure, since dolphins are intelligent animals) dreamt about what her calf would be like. She probably imagined how they'd swim together and leap out of the water....When her baby died, so did her dreams and her vision of the future. It didn't matter to her that there may have been "genetic deformities" or that maybe it wasn't "meant to be". What mattered to her, was that the baby she had planned for, dreamed of, loved, cared for, and expected.......was gone.
I felt relieved to read that they gave her time to grieve; let her swim around the baby and accept what had happened. Then they moved the mother to another tank, where her mother was waiting. It reassured me to hear she was able to spend time with her mother after her tragedy. I know how important family was to me at that time in my life. Also, it was helpful that the important people in my life gave me time to grieve, to write letters and poems to my unborn child, to sprinkle the ashes over my grandmother's grave. They cried with me and told me it was not my fault....all the things I needed.
It seems to me, people who have not had a miscarriage don't always understand the depth to which a mother's grief is carried. I don't even think I realized it myself. I will always feel sad about what happened. There will always be a loss, something missing. I will always wonder what could have been. It's been several years now. I have moved on, there have been many happy days in my life since then, but every once in a while, something (like the article about the dolphin at the Zoo) brings back all the emotion I thought had faded over time.....it's still there...I think it always will be.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
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9 comments:
My own miscarriage was so early on (about seven weeks), it hardly seems to compare to your experience. I've often said I didn't lose a child, but that I lost the hope of one. And yet because of that experience I can read of yours and those of other women and in some small part comprehend the grief and sorrow of it all. At first, I couldn't understand the purpose of that experience. It seemed to me that it was pain for pain's sake alone. Now though, I see it as a gift. It taught me a greater form of empathy than I ever could have achieved alone. Tears welled in my eyes as I read of that mother dolphin's experience. I cared because of what I had suffered, if that makes sense.
This was such a beautiful post, Susan. Thank you for sharing it with us.
That was definitely not how I envisioned that pregnancy to go. I was totally unprepared and I did not have much to say. I try not to bring it up and I try to be empathetic when you do. I feel useless in my support, there by your side, but not. It is NOT your fault. Let's try and find our next steps in our Tango and honor the the last. Your belief in god should provide a great helping hand and of course talking about it to those that care...and we all care!
Susan, this was just so lovely. So sad, but so well-said. And what Nate said got me all choked up too. Thank you for sharing this,
both of you.
Thank you for sharing this. I haven't ever experienced a miscarriage, but due to some womanly problems, I am at risk for them.
Although heart-breaking, this story is beautiful. I can only imagine the hurt that comes along with miscarriage. I pray for your healing and your little angel. : )
I had a miscarriage in 2001. I truly feel I have moved on (helped by the fact that I was pregnant with another baby by the miscarriage due date)But no matter how ok I am about things occasionally I read a story like the dolphin one and I well up and cry. For the hurt that another being is going through that I now can relate to in a way I never thought possible before my own experience.
Thank you for sharing your story.
Susan,
I linked back here after you left a comment on my blog, and mentioned that you are new to writing. You may be, but you have a knack for it! This was a great job of weaving two stories together to express your feelings and experience. Very good job.
wow this was moving. i've never had a miscarriage but i empathize greatly with women who have.
What a moving story about the dolphin. Things like that do make you remember your own loss. No matter when a child is lost, they leave an impact that is always felt. Sending you a hug.
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