BLAW: What does coping look like?

I’ll be honest, not much has changed for me in terms of my reaction to Baby Loss Awareness week since last year.

I’m not going to be active on Twitter or Facebook or Instagram talking about miscarriage and baby loss. All I want to say on social media is that I don’t want to….

It's #BLAW2021 and honestly I don't wanna this year. I don't want to see it, I don't want the constant reminders. It's all over FB and Insta and it's lovely that everyone is being open and honest and supportive but actually, for some of us, this is really very painful.

— Smelly Socks and Garden Peas (@AndSmelly) October 9, 2021

Instead, what I want to do is try and help anyone reading this realise that coping doesn’t always look the way you might expect. It’s rather a long time now since I talked about how everyone recovers from loss differently. Indeed, my own recovery is slowly changing.

Coping

I’m coping. Of course I’m coping, I mean there isn’t really another option is there? I can’t not cope. There are two ridiculous boys who need me to cope.

So for me, coping, looks like there’s nothing to cope with. My every day life is probably pretty much like everyone else’s: school runs, work, juggling other commitments, getting the boys to where they need to be at the right time and remembering extra stuff for special events at school, shopping, ironing, making meals and changing beds.

I’m not tearful every time a see a baby. I don’t talk about boy3 as though he’s an active member of our family. I don’t have photos of him and I’m not permanently in mourning.

But all the while, there’s a little sharpness to the world. I see someone walking with a two and a half year old, and a piece of me hurts. I tuck small boy into bed and remember that his old cot will never be used again. Large boy remarks on the cuteness of his friend’s baby brother and my heart squeezes to think what a wonderful big big brother he would have been.

But an outsider doesn’t see that.

All but my closest friends and family, wouldn’t see how each of those little hurts weighs on me to the point that, when confronted directly with discussions about miscarriage, it’s just too much.

Just because I’m not outwardly and obviously grieving doesn’t mean that I’m fine on the inside. I’m just coping.

Keeping Out of It

So I’m not disengaging from BLAW because I don’t think it’s important or because it’s not meaningful to me.

I’m keeping out of it to protect myself. Because getting involved would be raw and achingly unbearable. And I can’t buckle under those weights because I need to be coping.

Instead, I relieve the pressure of loss in little bits, when I need to. On my terms. When I’m ready.

Not because the world says that this is BLAW and now is the time to confront it.

How about you?

Do you get it? Am I talking sense to you? Tell me about your perspective.