Grieving a short pregnancy

This post is about a past pregnancy. I'm not pregnant. I was not recently pregnant. Those who know me can relax now.

I know in the larger scheme of things this is not on the scale of other types of grief. I thank God every day that my preemie was healthy and is a normal boy today.

I delivered my first two children full term, and I couldn't wait to lose that baby weight and get back into my normal clothes. I lose weight fast after pregnancy so I was back in them by the time I went for my six-week checkup.

But when I had Sean at 9 weeks early I didn't have that same desire to get back to normal. I held onto those maternity clothes and wore them. In fact, I was really sad to put them away.
I mentioned this to the social worker who was assigned to us as he spent the next 3 1/2 weeks in the NICU, and she said she had heard of mothers of preemies who had experienced similar feelings. That was as far as that conversation ever went.

It has taken a long time for me to get back to this subject, but at the time I knew I wanted to get this out there. It is a real grief. I was sad.  And I felt guilty about feeling sad. Though I was worried that something could go wrong, I had a healthy baby. Other mothers around me were living through all sorts of medical problems with their preemies. I would walk by the chapel near the NICU and know that we were so fortunate to have our baby.

Maybe my feelings of sadness were worse because I had already carried two babies to term. I didn't experience that last trimester of gaining a lot of weight and looking as if I was ready to pop. In fact, I had gone with my mom to an appointment that week and her nurse couldn't even tell I was pregnant until I stood up.

We didn't have time to sign up for a birthing class. We didn't have time to get the nursery painted and set up. We didn't have a baby shower or even get to talk about one. When I could have been showing off my baby to family and friends, I was driving to the hospital twice a day to hold him. My time was consumed by pumping breast milk. I should have been excited and happy, but I was worried and sad.

Each day I would get up, get ready for the day and choose what to wear. I would pull on a maternity top. I did that for a long time. And I found myself wishing I was still pregnant, and wondering what was wrong with me.

These feelings eventually passed. Sean came home, and he was beautiful and healthy, and life went on. But that grief is real. There is something about an interrupted pregnancy that throws us off. I consider myself very lucky to have had a mild case of sadness.

If you are experiencing sadness due to an interrupted pregnancy, talk to your doctor. If you believe you need to talk to someone other than your ob/gyn please seek out a mental health professional. Sometimes it's enough to just talk to someone who understands.