Learning Curve
October 20, 2008
I learned an important lesson from a good friend last week. A lesson about friendship, about love, about family. You see, my friend is from India. Culturally, when people in her life – whether family or friends– are hurting, she has been taught to drop whatever she is doing to be by their side.
Chris and Merlyn were among the first friends we told that we were pregnant. And subsequently, they were among the first friends we told we were miscarrying. When they heard our news, Chris and Merlyn asked if they could come over to be with us, even if it was just for dinner. At first I was taken aback. Admittedly, I thought it was intrusive. I wanted my space. I wanted to be alone to grieve in private. But in the back of my mind, I also knew that Roger and I can’t do this alone. So I said yes.
I walked away from dinner that night with the realization that our American culture of space and privacy and isolation is absurd. Why have we learned to leave each other alone at a time when we feel our most lonely?
And that’s one of the reasons why I’m so thankful I chose to write about my miscarriage on this web site. Our pregnancy was one that was planned for, hoped for, longed for. I recall in vivid detail exactly how I found out that I was pregnant. I remember how discovering that pink line on the pregnancy test felt like Christmas morning. I laugh about how many times I got up during the day to go look at that test, and how my heart flip-flopped each time I got a glimpse of the double lines. I took so much pleasure in planning how I would tell Roger, and oh!, how he was surprised. And I loved that he teared up, just a little, when he discovered our news. And several weeks later, in the blink of an eye, a flip of the ultrasound wand, our baby was gone.
Then there was the overwhelming outpouring of love from each of you. I read every single comment, sometimes multiple times over, and it was like the Internet was giving me a hug, holding my hand, rubbing my back, and telling me that yes, it hurts, but you’re not alone. Thank you, each of you, for the comments you left on my previous post. Thank you for coming around at a time that I felt so lonely. Finally, I get it. I get how important it is to have companionship, in all of its myriad forms. I understand how valuable a gentle word is when one’s heart is filled with sorrow, despite our culture’s whispers to give the griever a few days for – what? The anguish to settle in? Or for us to pull ourselves together? I don’t exactly know.
But I do know this: I can genuinely say that if this miscarriage helps me know how to love others better, to console others better, be able to better comfort those who are grieving a loss, or to walk with another woman as she faces that dusty, deserted road of miscarriage, I will consider this an important, unforgettable and worthwhile (albeit painful) life lesson. Merlyn’s rush to be by my side, infused with your dozens and dozens and dozens of comments, has taught me one thing in spades: compassion. And I think that’s something we could all use a little bit more of.



Comments
I think you're exactly right. We seem to think that we should be able to always pull ourselves up without help. I'm working on taking other people's helping hands during difficult times. I'm glad that you have such great friends.
Hugs to you!
Posted by: abbersnail | October 20, 2008 02:34 PM
That's so awesome. I've thought that too, since my first miscarriage, that it's weird we want privacy instead of friendship during times of trouble like that. And yes, it seems to be a phenomena unique to our culture.
It can be scary putting stuff out there, but I'm glad your friends were there for you, and even all us seemingly random readers who really felt your pain.
All the best to you.
Posted by: Kim | October 20, 2008 03:03 PM
So well said. I have a friend going through a very tough time right now, and at first, I respected her request to be alone. But then, I decided to intrude and call and send emails and just let her know that I loved her and I'm here to listen - and I think that's the biggest gift I could have given. Granted, there may be times when we have to back off, but it's important to let those that we love know that we are there for them. I hope you are doing a bit better. Thinking of you.
Posted by: TUWABVB | October 20, 2008 03:25 PM
Very true. I like having people I'm close to around me when I am hurting. However, I don't like being "needy" so I normally just bottle it all up... or I blog about it unabashedly.
Thanks for allowing us to be part of your life through the hard times and the happy times. And thanks again for that dinner and ice cream last night!
Posted by: eddeaux | October 20, 2008 04:06 PM
not too long ago, a dear friend drove to my home, a full hour and a half from where he lives, to give me a hug i so greatly needed.....
his arms managed to mend, even if just a small amount, a rip in my heart left by one i still very much love but am learning to love less and less each day.
hurt manifests itself is so many forms.... know that i love you and am here for you, 4pm or 4am, not matter the need.
Posted by: Willow | October 20, 2008 04:12 PM
Chirky-
Words cannot express how deeply I feel for you and what you are going through. I have been there. The planned pregnancy. The elated feeling and planning, only to feel a sudden gush of blood while watching my favorite television show. I hadn't even told my parents! I was waiting for some special bibs I ordered with their names on them so they could open them as a gift and be shocked! I was so mad.
At the hospital, the doctor told me..."well you have an 80% chance of miscarrying". Are you kidding me? With all this blood? YOU ARE A LIAR. THERE IS NO BABY. THE BABY IS GONE. I remember sobbing. Not only that, it was ectopic, and I was pretty far along. So here we go into surgery and I hadn't even told anyone I was pregnant.
I understand the deep sadness, the confusion and then the fury that comes at the most unexpected times. Take comfort in knowing that it will be your time. However way, if it is the desire of your heart, it will be. Know that. And I know that sometimes you feel like you really want to be alone, but knowing someone is in the other room can be comforting too. Or someone not even saying anything, just sitting next to you watching crap television.
My heart aches for you, but I also feel so much joy in the fact that you have such wonderful friends. Cling to your faith.
Sarah
Posted by: Sarah | October 20, 2008 04:13 PM
Jes & Roger,
My heart is heavy for you two today as I've just found out what you have been going through. I'm grateful that you have such wonderful, loving friends to lean on and cry with.
Remember to let yourselves grieve and heal. There's no time table for it, no matter if you feel pressured to have one. If you feel at all depressed in a way you can't handle, please speak to your doctor about it, Jes.
Prayers are lifted up for you both.
Posted by: Jennboree | October 20, 2008 05:16 PM
I just discovered your blog recently but I'm so glad to have read it today. My guy's father is ill and hospitalized and is really pushing away the family from coming to see him. We respect his wishes and are just hoping he'll get better, but it's tuff not to be able to show our love and support during this time. You are so right about our culture of isolation.
Sending you positive, healing thoughts during this very shitty think you're dealing with.
Posted by: gina | October 20, 2008 06:15 PM
I just discovered your blog recently but I'm so glad to have read it today. My guy's father is ill and hospitalized and is really pushing away the family from coming to see him. We respect his wishes and are just hoping he'll get better, but it's tuff not to be able to show our love and support during this time. You are so right about our culture of isolation.
Sending you positive, healing thoughts during this very shitty thing you're dealing with.
Posted by: gina | October 20, 2008 06:15 PM
Grace and peace to you from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ flow over into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed, it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted, it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm, because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort.
Posted by: Bekah | October 21, 2008 04:00 PM
Sorry, I forgot to put the reference. That's 2 Corinthians 1:3-7... I think it perfectly articulates what you were trying to say. God will ALWAYS use His people to demonstrate His love and compassion towards us. My prayers are with you and your husband..
Posted by: Bekah | October 21, 2008 04:04 PM
I'm so sorry that this happened! I just read your last post and this post, and I'm glad to see you had so many comments of support.
I'm absolutely sure that the prayer you mentioned in your last post was answered. I hate for you both that things happened this way, but I know God has a plan in store for you.
I'll be praying for you and Roger. I'm glad you've got this as an outlet, and I'm glad that you've seen so much support in all of this.
Hugs! We're here for you!
Posted by: my life is brilliant | October 21, 2008 04:31 PM
It's funny, I immediately wanted to rush to your side but held back because I didn't want you to feel like I was intruding or that I was overstepping my "bounds". What you said about our culture of wanting "space and privacy and isolation" is so true. Why do we do this? Why have we become so afraid of letting the ones we love know that we're there for them? Why would we rather "not want to intrude"? When did our lines of compassion and being there for our friends cross the line of privacy?
Your words have really made me think. Blake and I have lived in our house for 3 months now and we only know ONE neighbor who is down the street - we havent even met the next door neighbors!!! What happened to your new neighbors bringing you a pie and elatedly announcing, "Welcome to the neighborhood!" ... Now that you have brought this to my attention, I want my pie!!
Sounds like another blog entry. :) ha
Anyway, I'm really glad that you found comfort from words of friends and the comfort from the ones who werent afraid to intrude on you. I'm really glad you have friends like that because every now and then when something like this happens, when we want to shut down and isolate ourselves, we need those kind of friends to hold us and bring us back to life. You have taught me how to be a better friend through all of this.
I hope you're doing better. I'm thinking of you often.
P.S. We need to get together and have Indian sometime soon. :)
Posted by: Lisa | October 22, 2008 09:27 AM
Oh Jes. I am so glad that you had friends who didn't give you some space. I know exactly what you're talking about and it's so awesome when we can let go of being in charge every single second and let someone else take a turn at taking care of us.
Your insight is amazing and wonderful. And I am still praying for you two and grieving with you over your loss.
**more big hugs**
Posted by: Jayleigh | October 22, 2008 09:53 PM
I'm Indian as well. And here, the importance of family, compassion, generosity is embedded in each of us. An Indian would rather remain hungry than starve a guest, you know what I mean?
Btw, I'm really sorry about your loss. I'm praying for you. *HUG*
Posted by: Ki | October 23, 2008 12:11 AM
It's nowhere near in the same ballpark, but Rick and I have discovered how much we longed for a "closeness" among our friends even when we were still in Dallas. Of course we have wonderful friends there, but among many it seemed we were always held at arms length - it just seemed there was a culture of "not letting others in" - especially in such a grave time as yours Jes. I have to tell you that the biggest and most profound blessing we've experienced since we've moved to NY is that the people we've met are OPEN. They want to be a part of our lives, which makes it so much easier to open ourselves up to be a part of theirs. I would encourage this community among all of us - Dallas, NYC, everywhere. God created us for relationship - and he desires that we demonstrate love to each other all the time - even when we'd rather not. All that to say, Jes, I'm so happy you've experienced genuine community when you needed it most. I'm praying for you both - I'm just a phone call away if you ever need anything.
Posted by: Nicolle | October 23, 2008 03:58 PM
I struggle with the want to be isolated when I probably should have people around as well. As I am typing, I am here in the waiting room with 10 of my brothers' friends waiting for him to get out of surgery. It was a little shocking to walk into a room full of people, but nice. Knowing a shoulder is close is comforting.
My heart hurts for you. I wish there was something that could turn back time. I am glad you are writing about it.
Posted by: texasholly @ June Cleaver Nirvana | October 24, 2008 11:36 AM
This was so heartbreakingly beautiful, Jes. I'm glad you have friends like these when you need them at times like these.
Posted by: metalia | October 24, 2008 02:07 PM