A total utter shipwreck. What’s that like exactly? Let’s be clear I’m referring to a miscarriage, a pregnancy loss, a what the f*&k did I do to deserve this ‘I’m sorry your baby has died’ situation. To be specific a missed miscarriage. Currently while writing this being only hours into receiving the ‘I’m sorry your baby has died’ news a ship is the best thing I can come up with to describe what’s going on.
If you don’t understand the scale of suffering, the layers upon layers of hell one has to pass through when your pregnancy ends like this your lucky, and if you haven’t been through it I sincerely hope you never will. But if you want some insight, as millions of women & couples every year go through this and I conclude it’s only better if more people can understand, I make a feeble account here to describe the journey.
Imagine you are sailing along on your beautiful ship that you made all by yourself. You were so proud and ready to set voyage onto a new and beautiful life and you poured all of your love and determination into making a ship that was strong and safe for your journey. Every day you stand back to admire its beauty and the wonderful voyage ahead. Every day you pray and wish for swift and safe sailing. The new lands inch ever closer and your excitement and joy would be infectious to anyone who came close enough to see your smile.
As each week goes by you can feel it- you are closer now. But one day everything changes. A devastating storm suddenly hits, out of nowhere the sky is black like squids ink and the waves, overpowering sirens of devastation, are smashing into everything you have built. Your sails are torn to pieces and your hull is shattered by the violence of the sea. You can only observe as nature has no match in you and you are powerless to protect yourself or your ship.
And then… it’s over, the storm passes. Suddenly it feels oddly calm. Unsettlingly quiet. Your sinking- of course, but…. really slowly….very slowly you are sinking. It’s an inevitable and unstoppable certainty, you will not continue further on this journey and your ship will be lost. You are completely powerless to stop this, there is no turning back, no reversing the damage that has been done, no way to repair or rescue. Nature will show you no mercy, the facts are already made out.
After weeks and months of willing your ship to sail, of admiring her, of your intense preparation and safe sailing, of all the precautions you took to have a successful journey- the journey ends. There is no joy in gazing at the shell that was once your hope, better for it to sink swiftly and end the pain quickly. But it is was not to be quickly, it took days, then more days then weeks for the water to slowly seep in enough for the ship to start to go under.
All the while you just sit and gape in utter shock at the great black hole that was once your future, your hope, your life. From months of willing with every fibre in your body for this ship to sail, to skim the waves and touch the golden sand of the new life….you now wish for it to fall beneath the waves, to be over with, gone, down, over. You wait, and wait. You feel the cold touch of the water as it slowly rises above your feet, then over your legs and up to your shoulders. And then…it’s gone, fallen into the gloom of the sea beneath you and all that is left is… you, adrift, lost, shipless.
The emptiness of the horizon, the loneliness of being lost at sea. The knowledge that the only way forward is now back, back to where you can from. Back to the beginning, all over again. How hard it is to make that journey without a ship. But you know the way, because you have done this all before. A different ship built, a different storm a different hope. But the same outcome.
How long will it take you to get back home this time. How long and cold and cruel will the waters of hopelessness be. How many fine ships will pass you on their way as you go back on yours. How many happy faces celebrating in the joys of their voyage will greet you as you mourn yours?
Do we have to make this devastating journey so alone?