We assume that there is a natural order to existence. Birth, life, death.
But what happens when that order is disrupted? When life doesn’t follow birth? If the order is death, birth, the end.
What happens to the people who are left wondering how did the bit in between not happen and how do we deal with that? What next?
When giving birth doesn’t equal giving life it changes the perception of everything else. Whatever I thought I’d felt before I hadn’t felt it yet. Now I know what sad is, what grief is, what life and death really mean and I wish I didn’t. The idea that you can miss a person before you really knew them is an abstract concept, but it is real. The person we miss isn’t the person we didn’t know, it’s the person we wanted to know. The one who we dreamed about, whose features we imagined, whose name we wondered about, who never had the chance to be naughty so will remain perfect forever.
In this version of mourning there are so many levels. There is the initial broken dream of a perfect baby. Then there is the reality of physical death. Then there is the heartbreaking trauma of giving birth not giving life. Then there is the reality of the absence. And the future. And everything after that that I don’t know about yet.