Staying Together Through Stillbirth
It is no secret that grief is hard on a marriage. No two people grieve the same way, so how can a couple be expected to deal with grief individually while taking care of the other simultaneously? Sometimes all you need is a good day. You can not handle thinking about your loss and all you need is to distract yourself. What happens when your partner needs the same day to wallow in their grief and let out their pain? In marriage you compromise, so one or both sacrifice the day they need to help the other. Each person’s grief is just as important, so how do you decide whose needs get met? It’s just as difficult when both need to wallow and have time to themselves. The house needs taken care of, meals prepared, living children taken care of. One of you needs to be the strong one at any given point. Marriages crumble when one person is being the strong one too often. Their needs are not being met and resentment can build.
Jack and I snuggling Calvin with his sloth blankie.
Grief from stillbirth has additional trials in marriage. Although you are going through the same loss, you each are experiencing it differently. As a mother, we have all the physical and hormonal reminders of our loss. All the postpartum symptoms like bleeding, stiches, hair loss, and hormonal changes fall on us. We have the stretch marks, saggy skin, and baby weight without our baby to bring home and say it was all worth it. We are forced to question whether it was our bodies that failed. We felt the stillness in our womb and had to deliver without hearing a cry. It is easy to build resentment against our partner. It feels like they escaped so much of the burden you are forced to carry. The truth is our partners have their own trial. They feel helpless and often useless while watching us. With their whole heart they wish they could help take away the pain but are powerless. Jack went into the bathroom with me every single time after I gave birth. He helped prepare my ice pack and laid Tucks pads out like salami. He cleaned up blood and encouraged me when my stitches burned. He even faced our home to feed the cat and pack whatever we needed, even though it felt like a shrine of what should have been. Baby swings and blankies, baby clothes washed and waiting. Still, he never felt like he could do enough. It is blatant how unfair the burden is. As much as it hurts us moms, the inequality hurts our partners.
Grief is not straight forward. Everyone knows the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance. The way it is laid out makes it sound like levels on a video game. After you conquer each emotion, you move on to the next one until you face the final boss, acceptance. Really, it should be called the seven emotions of grief. They’re not felt in any particular order, you never truly beat them, and can easily experience any one of them on any given day. Some people experience the different stages in a stronger way. I more easily fall into the denial or anger stages, while Jack struggled with bargaining and depression. I was truthfully surprised by my stages of grief. As someone who struggles with depression, I expected it to be my main emotion. I’ve never been a particularly angry person, so I was shocked and scared of my new emotions. Our emotions more often than not, did not line up with one another. I’d be furious at everything and want to lash out, while he was depressed. It was easy to get frustrated and struggle to understand each other.
Jack kissing my forehead as I hold Calvin.
One of my main coping skills is control. When the going gets tough, I get my crap together. I shut down and do what needs to be done. I open the box of my emotions in small quantities when it is convenient. I think that can be common for moms. When the responsibility of the household predominantly falls to you, it can feel like if you don’t do it, it doesn’t get done. Almost as if we don’t have the luxury to fall apart. Just as easily, men are forced into the toxic mindset that they have to be tough. They shouldn’t cry, they should be the pillar of strength in the house, and their emotions don’t matter anyway. Depending on your dynamics, it can be very easy for one partner to fall into the “strong” role more frequently. Because my coping skill is control, that is what was happening to us. It got to the point that I felt frustrated when Jack was emotional. I was holding in my emotions until it was convenient, but it was never convenient. Resentment started to build because I wanted to be the one who got to fall apart sometimes but I didn’t know how. It was neither of our faults, but we were struggling to find room for both of our grief. When I decided to see a counselor again and when I decided to start writing, he said yes without hesitation. I needed to find a way to let him be the strong one sometimes so I could take care of myself.
Remember, we both feel the hole in our hearts and the absence in our lives. Both parents feel the ache in their arms to hold their child and face the anxiety of losing someone else they love. It is important to find balance and learn to take turns relying on each other. We’re partners for a reason, through thick and thin. We take care of each other. Our babies in Heaven want us to thrive and love each other. When you already lost a child, you shouldn’t have to lose anyone else. Hold on to each other and depend on one another. Find strength in your weakest moments and cherish not being alone in this.