Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance, It's My Fault

The stages of grief is missing the “It’s my fault” stage. There was a segment on the news yesterday (and in the papers) about how drinking caffeine can double the risk of miscarriage. Great. Every woman I know who had a miscarriage already blames herself for it at some point, myself included. We think it HAD to be something we did, as if we control what happens in our uterus. We blame negative thinking, because our tentative, worried thoughts about being (and staying) pregnant must have caused the little baby inside to die. We think we weren’t grateful enough. We assume it was because we didn’t eat enough vegetables or we walked too much or we had sex or we stubbed our toe or we were being punished for transgressions from our past. And now, thanks to some stupid study, we can add drinking coffee and soda to the list of things we did to ourselves to cause fetal death. I’m not necessarily doubting the validity of the study, but, as with most medical studies, I am sure the Opposite Study will be released and there will be a new theory in a year that says that drinking caffeine will help you stay pregnant.

I find it interesting that women inflict the blame mentality on themselves after a miscarriage, but they never turn that blame on other woman. Not a single person said to me that it is my fault that I had miscarriages; in fact, they assured me otherwise. The same women that blamed themselves tell me that I had nothing to do with a baby dying inside of me. Likewise, I tell women that they are not to blame for their miscarriages either—and I mean it—even though at times it is still easy for me to slip into that frame of mind where I think it is all my fault.

It’s sad how woman (including me) have such guilt when it comes to their health and life and choices. I have a friend who had an abortion in college. She never told her husband because she was afraid he would not respect her choice, that it would change the way he looked at her. She hasn’t told many friends for the same reason. She hides this because she knows she will be judged and she is afraid of what people think.

At what point do we stop regretting our choices and instead fear other’s reactions? It happens at some point, we cross that Blame Ourselves line and thread into the waters of What Will People Think? Yes, I just mixed my metaphors. It makes me sad, that we go around hiding these sort of things, locking up our greatest griefs and secrets because at the end of the day we fear judgment the most. I’m ok with most of my decisions but I still fear what other’s think.

Pictured above, Madeline is her cute little vest and her cute little pants, a gift from her Aunties Christi and Julie. Notice the toy strapped to her wrist. She is prepared to play at all times. Below, us, in sort of matching sweaters. I still don’t think we look alike.