The Generation Gap

Baby loss, stillbirth, miscarriage. The name we put on it doesn't matter, in the world of women it can still be a difficult subject yet the loss touches so many of us. If you can't say you know a woman who has lost a child or a pregnancy, you may not know a woman. It's common but not a common place topic of discussion. And why not? Women are not quiet creatures, we are prone to complaining and over-sharing, being emotional and hormonal just adding fuel to the fire. Is Grief something we have been taught to hide then? Or just this particular type of Grief?

In the generations of women that have come before us, babies have died before their time, just as they do to this day. Death has always been a part of birth. In my generation, it is more "socially acceptable" to discuss the death and its subsequent Grief (and even if it wasn't you couldn't stop me from bringing it up). I'm finding though, in being consoled by the women in my life, that the acknowledgment of my son is a bit faux pas at times.

My Grief packet from the support group that came the day my son was born/died included a sheet on the history of baby loss in the United States. It seems that it wasn't always customary to treat mothers and their dead babies respectfully. Instead of sharing the tiny person with the mother, at times (prior to the 1970s), the baby was taken and the mother was left to never know her child, including gender and size. I have heard first hand from a close family member that this was the case in her own life. She took the time to discuss with me her loss and how it affected her life, specifically the part that she never was given the opportunity to meet her baby. To this day, more than 50 years later, she doesn't know if that was her daughter or her son.
I was so blessed to not only be able to meet my son but to spend more than 36 hours with his body and to have photos taken professionally with him. I named him, held him, and now have the ability to share and celebrate him with the world.

With one Great-grandma telling me her story, I was hopeful that the generation gap that existed would be bridged and that Grief could transcend with all the women in our lives. Still though, I have found this not to be the case. After a wonderful memorial that captured Griffin's importance to my family, I heard some sage advice that cut us to the core.
"It was a wonderful service, but was it really necessary? You have those lovely daughters, don't dwell on the loss of your baby."
I smiled, shook hands and moved on to others for the day. Weeks later, those words have hung with me and I've let them gnaw at me for a while. Did they come from those without Grief? No, I know these women have stories of loss, different in part than mine. One's history holds a pregnancy loss or miscarriage and plenty of experience comforting those in turmoil through losing health and family in the aging years, though she and I have never discussed it personally. The other has lost a life partner and two adult sons, and while she has never been known for her emotional connection to the world, I had not expected an early expression such as this. Do these comments come then just from that 'hush hush' nature surrounding stillbirth that they were raised to keep? Shall I simply allow their whispered words to flow in one ear and out the other, content in the logic that times have changed?

I'm glad the acceptance has become more prevalent in my generation. Because after hearing this only a few times I was taken aback. Now I'm not shy but it did dampen my spirit for a bit. If I were not so bold then, would my sharing be stunted? If all the women I came across expressed this same sentiment, this same thought that my only son should not be acknowledged, that his life and death are not equal to my daughters' perhaps I would keep quiet about him.
       I'm sure these women mean well, these mothers from another generation would not be knowingly hurtful. We're in this experience together after all, I as a mother and they as grandmothers, and it has always been my practice to listen politely to the wisdom of the aged, smile at them and nod my head, then do what has always served us well in our family: whatever the hell works best for us!