I just received some terrible news. My cousin, Magdalena, had a miscarriage over the weekend. I always loved Magdalena. She was the sister I never had—I am an only child. As children, we always competed with each other for attention. She was always the funny one and I was always the smart one. I would’ve given anything to be the funny one or to have as many friends as she did. Magdalena has a magnetic personality that just draws you in. I was so shy and introverted—I never was the center of attention, or so I thought. As we grew older, we grew closer. We came to realize that we wished people would see in us what the other had—to my surprise, she always wished she were the smart one. This admittance was liberating because it allowed us to shuck off the baggage so that we could truly see what a blessing it was to have each other.
Magdalena and her husband have been trying to conceive for over three years. Every time her period came, she experienced a combination of sadness, desperation and blame. Why isn’t this happening? Is God punishing me? Is there something wrong with me? This was something we shared in common. I too felt the same way until I allowed myself to release control and trust in God. Things will happen when they are supposed to and you cannot push it because it will never turn out the way you expected. I won’t delude myself into believing that all my insecurities miraculously evaporated, but I am more positive and I don’t beat myself up constantly anymore. But, this news has affected me more than anyone can imagine. Magdalena is as healthy as a horse. Beyond trouble conceiving, she has no other issues. I wouldn’t even call trouble conceiving an issue because there are many reasons for this stemming from the mental toll that stress takes on your body to a physical issue, like endometriosis and fibroids, which is what was going on with me. How am I, who had all those physical issues, expecting to have a baby when Magdalena hasn’t yet? I can’t help but compare myself to her. I am back to being 8 years old again. This time, it’s not because of silly jealousies. It’s because, I not only understand her pain, I share it. I suffer everyday with the thought of not being able to have children. No matter how supportive my husband, mother, family and friends are I can’t help but feel like a failure. The very basic and natural thing that women are born to do —have children—and I can’t get it right. Don’t get me wrong, bearing children is not the sole reason for a woman’s existence. But, from the beginning of time, women have had the gift of bring human life into this world. This is something that only women can do naturally and it is one of the factors that makes our sex so special. So imagine how I feel? So much less special and important. Even though my cousin is wearing the façade of strength, I know that these needling thoughts are eating away at her.
My hope is that I am strong and brave enough to help her get through this. That she can use my shoulder to lean on, when she needs to be heard and to cry that I can be her source of consolation. Even though her husband has been tremendously strong and supportive, it’s hard to stay strong when you are also suffering a loss. Magdalena physically lost the baby and it’s causing her psychological, emotional and physical pain. But imagine how her husband feels? Magdalena had this baby living inside her for a few months— the baby was real and tangible. For her husband, his feelings of loss are so different because he was not able to physically bond with the baby. He could only imagine the feeling and dream about aspirations for the baby. Then one day, it’s gone as quickly as it arrived. It’s like sand slipping through his fingers. No one really thinks about how hard this is for men. Magdalena’s experience has opened my eyes and made me realize how strong my husband has been all this time. He’s dried my tears and comforted me in a way no one could, but who comforted him? I was so wrapped up in my pain, I didn’t even see how hard it was for him to maintain his composure so he could be there for me. What I have come to realize is that in experiencing this tragic loss, we have found greater love and strength in each other.
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Caridad Pellot is a corporate executive who just looks like she has it all together. In her blog, “Diary Of A Control Freak”, she lets us in on the lessons she’s learning along the way.
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