Some points on what not to say to a mother who has miscarried

I would like to thank all who have let me know that they care - be it by the internet, the phone or in person. I appreciate it all, but for some reasons or other – I’ve decided not to reply to any comments left in the previous entry.

It was a difficult entry for me to write. I’d thought of quitting blogging when my miscarriage happened, and on better days, I’d thought of posting happier entry, but I never could do it because somehow it didn’t seem right. I felt like I needed to honor my lost little one before I could move on.

I now understand why some of my friends who had gone through miscarriage(s) withdrew themselves. It could be hard talking about it, and some cope by putting it behind and not discussing it at all. Personally, I thought blogging about this might help, so I finally did it last week, in a corner of my school’s library – after lots and lots of failed attempts at home. Baby Humaidi is most attuned to my moods and feelings – I could not write it at home because I could not cry when Humaidi is near or else he would start crying too. And yes, I cried buckets while writing the previous entry. It’s not easy to stop once I started – because suddenly I started grieving not only for my lost little one, but for all moms who had lost a child…

It was while I was writing when Emi came up and asked “Are you okay? You don’t look too good”, to which I just blurted out, “Ryuzan shicattan da…”

Emi’s response was spontaneous – she immediately hugged me and whispered “I’m so sorry to hear that…” After she let me go, she grabbed my hands tightly and made me promise to give her a call if I ever need someone to talk to, to go out with or anything. “I’m here and we can always arrange something if you want me to accompany you to go out or something. You might need a break from your kids, so call me, okay?”

That coming voluntarily from a second year MA student who is in the midst of her thesis writing was very comforting. That was also the first real hug I got from a girlfriend in real life although I’d gotten lots of virtual hugs before. It felt good. It felt warm, and Allah knows I could do with a lot of warmth right then when coldness was clenching my heart.

I got my second hug from a girlfriend not long after that when Aya-chan stopped by to ask how I was doing. Again – “I’m sorry to hear that,” followed by a quick hug. Neither asked me how it happened, neither tried to say more to comfort me, but sometimes less is better – and their hugs worked really well.

In this horrible experience, apart from supportive and sincere friends and strangers who have helped me through this healing process, I have also come across some insensitive remarks coming from those who might have meant well, who might have thought their innocent comments might provide comfort and hope, but that is not always the case.

A friend said that he thought I would be glad not having to cope with another baby right now. Overwhelming emotions instantly filled me – shock, disbelief, hurt and fury. I felt like giving him a tight slap right there and then, but I quickly put my temper under check, looked at him right in the eyes, and sternly told him, “Yes, I thought I was not ready to get pregnant again. Yes, I thought I was not ready for another baby yet. But no, how could I be happy with losing a child? Miscarriage is not something one could be glad about. A baby is a gift of life. I might have thought of not getting pregnant as yet, but when I realized I did, I would have done anything to carry the baby to full term. I would have welcomed the baby with arms wide open. I would have loved the baby no less than I do my two kids. So, don’t tell me that I could not afford another baby right now – I would have gone through any difficulty for a baby. A baby is not a difficulty, a baby is rezeki”

I hope he will remember never to say anything like that to anyone who has miscarried ever again.

Yes, I am aware that this is Allah’s test, and that He will never try me with something beyond my ability to handle. But I also think it might help if others try to acknowledge that a mother’s grief is real, to acknowledge that a baby was lost. It does not matter whether a lost child was 10 days or 10 weeks or 10 months old, inside or outside the womb; each loss is unique, so please do not try to invalidate one’s feeling by telling her that what she’s going through is nothing compared to others who had gone through ‘bigger’ challenges. It’s hard to truly understand what mothers who have miscarried go through unless it has happened to you, so please try not to make them feel worse than they already do by belittling their loss.

So, unless you were the one who had gone through multiple miscarriages, it is also not acceptable to tell someone who had just miscarried “oh, but it happened to our friend ABC 3 times and XYZ went through it twice.” What is the point exactly – trying to scare someone who just had a terrible experience by reminding her that it could happen again? (Note: this is different from sharing that you have known one or two friends who had gone through multiple miscarriages and admitting your own insecurities due to being surrounded by friends and family members who had miscarried... I got mad at those who belittled the feeling of loss, not at someone who tries to empathize)

And while we are at it – I think most mothers who have just miscarried also do not want to be told that we will get pregnant again, or that we will have other children. Yes, it might be true, but it does not really help to make the grieving mommies feel better about the one they have just lost. Another child could never replace the one they have lost – if you are a parent, ask yourself is another child could replace the one you have right now.

I know that some might feel stuck, not knowing what to say or how to react when wanting to offer support or comfort. Yes, miscarriage can put one in a very awkward position. I think generally it is safe to say you are sorry to hear about the loss, to offer your help in any possible way and if permissible, to give a hug. Offering your prayers could mean a great deal too - at least for me, it does.

I asked my hubby “where did our little one go?”, and not being an expert in fiqh, he said he doesn’t know. A lot of Islamic scholars ruled that when babies with ruh died – those who had been in a mother’s womb for 4 months or more – they go to heaven, to wait for their parents there. So what about babies that went away before they were breathed with ruh? Mak Jang gave me the most comforting answer – “You just have to be strong and patient. Trust that Allah will take good care of the baby. Allah will never desert the faithful”. Mak Jang had had a miscarriage herself (not two, as I first thought), losing a pair of twins, and had provided some tips on how to cope.

I don’t know how long it will take to heal emotionally. It has already been three weeks, and while I’m a lot more stable nowadays, there were weak moments here and there. Friends and aunts who went through it told me that there would be moments that I might falter again and again, so I, as well as hubby, must learn how to brave it.

I am sorry if this entry sounds harsh here and there, but there were moments I felt like screaming at others, asking them not to keep telling me the same thing over and over again too. I just hope that this will help stopping them from making similar mistake in the future. Nevertheless I would like to express my gratitude and thanks to all who have been very supportive with their prayers, kind words of support and encouragement. I know everybody mean well and I really appreciate the concern. My personal support system has been great – my family, aunts and cousins, especially my cousin Hafiz who is studying medicine in Melbourne and some friends I felt like talking to. Special thanks to Kit, who cried for my baby like she was grieving for her own, and thank you Kak Lela for teaching me the word ‘ryuzan’ or otherwise I wouldn’t know how to explain my condition to the doctor.

Farewell my little one

My dear little one,

It had been two weeks since you were gone and to be honest, up until now, I still don’t know exactly what to answer when someone asks me “How are you?”.To have something changed drastically so fast, so soon was something no one expected. One day I was happy because I thought I was getting my period after one month miss, and the next I felt so crushed when it turned out to be a miscarriage. Awal Muharram suddenly took a whole new meaning for me...

My dear little one,

I was shocked and angry at your father when he uttered “tu lah, Haida tak nak baby, baby pun tak nak la (hidup)…” right after I cried out for him to help decide what to do with this big blop thingy that suspiciously resembled a fetus sac in the toilet bowl. I was angry at myself for not making sure whether I was pregnant or not right after I missed my period. I was angry that I ignored the movement I felt in the tummy during the long 110 meter sliding experience in Kodomo no Kuni when you must had been 8 weeks old. I was in denial of my pregnancy because despite the missed period, there were no other signs and symptoms – no nausea, no vomiting, no heightened sense of smell, no nothing. I should have known that something was wrong then, but I didn’t pay much attention to it. I never thought it was going to cost me a heartbreak.

My dear little one,

It hurts so much to lose you. I never thought how one miscarriage that others often see as a minor incident in life could hurt this deeply, but now I know from experience. It hurts even when this is not my first pregnancy, even when we are not exactly trying for a child right now. I can’t imagine how it must had been for first time mothers or those who had to undergo several miscarriages. For me, it was not that terrible physically – a bad cramp on Tuesday night, a mild tummy ache on Wednesday night followed quickly by the release of that greyish blop, with lots and lots of blood clots. But when I went for a check-up, and the doctor showed me an ultra sound scan image of a 10 week old fetus, I felt so sad. Instead of looking at the blinking heartbeat on the ultra sound scan monitor, I had to look instead at the remainder of your short presence in me on the monitor. The little placenta tissue left in the uterus. I felt as empty as my uterus. I felt hollow – physically and emotionally.

The night I had my miscarriage, I kept tossing in the futon, unable to go to sleep. I was so afraid of so many things. I was afraid that you had been a girl and I would never get a girl again due to my carelessness in taking care of you. I was afraid that you were gone because I expressly told others that I am not ready for another child right now, what with your brother Akif being so young and my thesis yet to be finished, and 1001 adjustments that need to be made when we go back to Malaysia. Was it because I took a long walk? Was it because I drank parsley tea and ate pineapple to induce menstruation when I thought I was late a month ago? Was it because I had been carrying your brothers more often? Was it because I am not eating right? Was it because I am not taking enough vitamin and supplementary food? Was there something wrong with my genes?

I was afraid that your father won’t forgive me for not making sure of my pregnancy and to take better care of myself. I am still scared now – of so many things and of so many possibilities. I am scared if the next period will bring back memories of seeing the blop and gory. I am scared that I might not be able to get pregnant again. But I am also scared to get pregnant again now I have been through a miscarriage. It is so confusing, I feel so bewildered and for a while I lost ability to express my thoughts clearly. Your father thought that I was killing time by playing those word games, that I should have spend more time on my thesis rather than playing Text Twist or Bookworm Adventure or Scrabble Rack Attack or Scrabble Blast (yes, I am a word games junkie). He didn’t know that for a while I have just lost my ability to think straight or even to think at all. On the outside I looked okay – but the depth of the sadness, the grief inside – was just too difficult to explain.

My dear little one,

Your father is grieving differently than me. He was the one who buried that blop the size of two adult fingers I could not flush down the toilet that night. He was the one who had been passionately praying daily for the safety of both the mother and the baby he highly suspected I was carrying. It had been difficult for him too, he had been crushed as well, but in different ways. Perhaps it’s difficult for him seeing me so depressed that prompted him to instruct me to snap out of it by reminding me that a lot many other women went through this and they were fine. He was right. Ayah's mother, your own Nenek had experienced giving birth to stillborns not once but twice. And miscarriage episodes are not new in my family too – your Tok Nyah went through it twice, so did your Tok Tam and Tok Jang. All three of them plus your Tok Su who, like me, experienced miscarriage at 10 weeks gestation, had went through the dreaded D&C. I must admit that it was a great relief to be able to consult not one but various sources among my own aunts when it happened to me. I was relieved too that I didn’t had to go through D&C even when my miscarriage was incomplete, instead just prescribed with Methergin for uterus contraction and to stop the bleeding.

My dear little one,

You will never be forgotten. Others have survived their grief and in time I will too, but I will never forget you. Your Tok Nyah told me that I should not be blaming myself. I had went through successful pregnancies with your brothers with pineapple eating and staining involved. I had walked longer when I was pregnant before than the walk I took the night before I lost you. Pregnancy loss can strike anyone and even doctors could not really tell why. Perhaps you were not a feasible fetus and hence you just discharged yourself from me. Sources on the internet claimed that about 15 – 25% of all pregnancies ended in miscarriage usually before 13^th week gestation. I am just one in every 4 or 5 pregnant women. It was sad that we have to say good bye before I even acknowledge your presence inside me. But as much as part of me died when I lost you, I have to live and keep being stronger for your brothers.

Your father has been lending me lots of strength lately. And in many ways that they may not know themselves, so have your two brothers. Your brother Ujai’s enthusiasts in singing ABCs, Ichi Ni San or Alif Ba Ta could always make me smile. Your brother Akif’s repeated attempts at standing on his own and walking by himself remind me to keep on trying to be positive in life. As much as I am aware that children are only gifts on Allah’s loan that He might take back anytime He wants, for the moment, they bring me joy, they make me smile, they make me laugh. And laughter and joy are quicker healers than tears and grief. I learn that celebrating bits of joy – like buying ice cream for others since I could not enjoy my number one comfort food during this ‘pantang’ period or joining your brothers making noise by the window as they excitedly enjoyed the falling snow – does not dishonor losing you. That tug you gave me once in Kodomo no Kuni was a sign that you too must had enjoyed the laughter and joy your brothers and parents shared then.

Farewell my little one.
I love you.
I will always do.

Happy New Year

My first post in the new year - it's already maghrib here, so makes that for both Gregorian and Hijri calendar...

So, what's up huh?

During the two-weeks new year break, apart from what I'd written in previous entry, I 'd managed to

• finish reading "Judges & Jury" and "London Bridges" by James Patterson, "The Broker" by John Grisham and "Number 10" by Sue Townsend. I know, I know, I should be reading academic books, not story books, but old habits die hard and all that...;

• take advantage of New Year bargains offer to buy Kose Sekkisei stuff for myself, a pair of glasses for hubby, as well as won a small Kaeru-chan toy for my baby and an "Ai Nori" mug in two separate lucky draws. "Ai Nori" is a Fuji TV reality-show involving a "love wagon" which goes around the world, and when they were ready, players were supposed to ask one player of the opposite sex who they were interested in, to return with them to Japan. Some ended as happy couples, some left devastatingly alone, and some simply retired after being in the game for some time without finding anyone they could be interested in.

• visit Asakusa area on New Year. It was already after Asar - so it was quite surprising to see the line for people to enter Sensoji (one of the oldest temples in Tokyo area) was still very long (think about 500 meter) and growing. The place was still crowded, most of the shops on the main streets closed, the streets opened only for pedestrians and we took some pictures in the middle of the usually busy main street a'la "ini jalan bapa kami yang punya" style. I should have not been that surprised though, after all most Japanese only pray once or twice a year. There were plenty of Christian missionaries all over Sensoji neighboring areas, both nihonjin and gaijin, holding placards urging people to learn more about the eternal life of Jesus, the death of a savior, with loud speakers repeating some recorded messages about Christianity again and again. I told hubby, maybe we should suggest to AMIR or IPIJ to invite those who are free and their Muslim nihonjin friends to come and distribute brochures about Islam too in this crowded area next year. There is so much that we still need to do to right the misperception most nihonjin seem to have about Islam and Muslim, and maybe we should learn a thing or two from those Christian missionary who stood up all day long holding their respective signboard.

• visit the Imperial Palace on January 2 (the only other day the Palace inner ground was open for public was on December 23, the Emperor's birthday). Very tight security. Do not bring any liquid in cans or plastic bottles - they had to be thrown away or else you will have to keep your bag in safe keeping at a counter manned by police officers. I was first asked by a young lady officer to either finish up or throw the content of feeding bottle for my baby. I tried persuading my baby to finish the bottle up; but another elder gentleman officer said that it was okay to enter with the bottle still half full, since baby might cry without his bottle. Oh, and no plastic container of any kind - the police inside the palace compound checked on Humaidi's toy twice to ensure that it was just a toy and not some explosive or something. Those with baby stroller and wheelchair get privileged treatment - so even though we were rather late, we were ushered to the front line. Hubby who wanted to take a better shot of the Emperor's family exchanged place with Faizly who had been manning the other stroller for a while just so he got to be on the front line. Granted, the Emperor is not my king, and I earlier thought that the place would be crowded with old people who are known to be more loyal to the Emperor than the younger generation - so I was surprised to see lots and lots of young people - singles, in groups and with families, all together chorusing "banzai" and waving the Japanese flags (freely distributed before we entered the security check area) oh-so-proudly and happily right after the Emperor made one of his hourly appearances and gave ultra-short new year greetings speech that day.

• visit Palette Town in Odaiba after the visit to Imperial Palace ended. Oh, we had a long, long walk that day... and Faizly must be very exhausted playing baby sitter for the kids while the parents berhoga-hoga, especially at Toyota Mega Web. I tried out the rally racing simulator machine and oh my - it was really difficult to handle compared to real life driving. Despite the "gelong-gelong macam mabuk" bumpy ride, I managed to finish it before the 3-minute-limit was up, so was pretty satisfied (it took a 30-minute wait after all). Hubby asked me to join him entering the simulator theater - and it was much, much better than trying out the simulator machine. No dizzying experience, and we managed to have a 'feel' of how one racer overtook not one, but four cars, to emerge the winner of the competition. Huzaifah had some fun in Venus Fort, very much mesmerized by the ever changing sky scenes - from twinkling blue and green stars in a dark-dark night, to the yellowish evening sunset and clear morning sky. The only "down" side to the trip is that dogs were allowed to be unleashed in the first floor of the mall. It's not that we don't like dogs, it's just that we have to go through some hassle of special cleansing ritual if the dog lick us, or if wet dogs make contact with us. When I was in UK, I really hated it when a dog suddenly appeared in front of me and the owner would casually say "It's okay love, he won't bite, he just wants to play...", always made me felt like replying - "I don't care if your dog wants to play - but I can't, okay?"

• watch all 17 episodes plus "the making of" Korean drama "Coffee Prince". I don't usually watch Korean drama, but my cousin Firdhaus loves them, and had in the past influenced me to watch "Full House" and "Wonderful Life". Zyrin's musings on "Coffee Prince" kind of prompted me to watch it - and yup, I enjoyed it. I still sometimes hum to the tune of the song the lead hero sang over the phone to the boyish-looking heroin (believably so too, unlike the heroin in J-drama Hana Kimi who still very much looked like a girl) just before they were supposed to be apart for 2 years.

Okay, now that the holiday is over, I should be concentrating on my thesis now. I mean, seriously...
Oh by the way, Kit, thanks for your do'a (winks).
Note to Kak Lela - "ada masa cecair merah yang dikeluarkan oleh jasmani wanita boleh menjadi tanda gembira, dan saya telah mendapat petanda itu! Syukur, alhamdulillah..."

Happy New Year 1429 Hijriah to my Muslim readers
May it be a better year, and may we be blessed by Allah always.