The Dates That Stay: A Reflection on Love, Grief, and Invisible Anniversaries in the Wake of Miscarriage
[cw: Mention and recounting of pregnancy loss]
“When are your kids’ birthdays?” My mind brings forth dates, dates I don’t even have to try to remember. They’re just . . . there. I sift through the dates that pop into my mind to find the two they’re asking about. I recite them with a smile, have the usual back and forth about what it’s like to have two kids with birthdays so close to Christmas, how busy that time of year is. “At least you get it all out of the way at one time! And you only have to remember one month!” they might say. I nod and laugh, “Yep, I guess that’s nice!”
But there are other birthdays I remember, too.
I carry on with my day, but the other dates linger in my mind, dates no one else knows, dates I mark in my planner with a heart that has poorly drawn angel wings on either side of it. Dates that are etched quietly into my bones, ones I’ll never bake birthday cakes for, ones I’ll never buy balloons for, ones I’ll never throw parties for.
The Dates That Stay With Us: The Meaning of Dates After Miscarriage
These dates hold the lives I dreamed about, hoped for, and loved—even if no one else got to meet them. Many of the dates I thought I would forget have become permanent fixtures in the list of important dates for me to remember each year. Many of the emotions I imagined would fade over time have only deepened or shifted. This, along with much of my experience with grief since each of my miscarriages, has been poignantly different from what I anticipated. Loss continues to be my teacher.
One funny thing about miscarriages is that they tend to be viewed as an isolated event: a loss that is experienced in the moment that it occurs, something that you move on from and eventually forget. Because there isn’t a life full of memories, drawers full of belongings, pictures full of smiles with the babies we have lost, these losses quickly fade from the minds of people who haven’t experienced them. I thought (and, maybe, in some ways, I hoped) this would be the case for me. Not that I wanted to forget, but I did hope for the pain of each loss to soften and fade as time went on. I have even wondered (and have felt guilty for wondering it) if I would become desensitized to the loss of a miscarriage as I continued to have them, but this wasn’t the case for me.
The losses continue to grow with me.
I carry them through big and little life moments – like my daughter’s first day of kindergarten (What would their first days of kindergarten have looked like? What would they have worn? Would they have been nervous?), my son’s first birthday (Would they have liked the cake? Or would they have preferred an entire rotisserie chicken like my son?), in the the boxes of baby clothes – packed away and labeled “Baby Girl: 3-6 months” – ready to be reworn, but remaining untouched (the pink and white striped sleeper was always my favorite; I would have loved a picture of her in it).
I still wonder about their personalities and futures: Would they have liked Daniel Tiger? Would “The Happy Song” have calmed them down like it does their brother? What would their favorite color be? Their favorite food? Would they be vibrant and outgoing like their siblings? Would they have played instruments? Sports? What would they have been passionate about? What would have made them laugh? Sometimes I try to imagine the answers to questions like these, and it usually makes me smile.
Where Love and Loss Meet
And in these moments where I smile as I think about what could have been, I sometimes marvel at the complexity of my emotions following my miscarriages. Loss continues to be my teacher: it’s taught me that it can live side-by-side with love. Each loss has marked me, changed me, made me turn inward in ways I never had before. And where the feelings of loss and grief reside, love is always right there next to it, or rather, intertwined with it. I feel overwhelming grief and love for the lives that existed within me, for those who have also experienced what I have experienced, and for those who will experience loss like this one day.
Grief on these invisible anniversaries is a quiet thing, tucked between errands and work meetings, unmarked by the world around you, while existing front and center in the world within you. The loneliness that often accompanies pregnancy loss is real and loud. If your own grief feels tangled with loneliness, know this: I—and many others—sit with you, wrestling with the ache that has settled deep into who we are.
Holding Space for Grief and Love: Simple Ways to Honor Your Loss(es)
And if you’re trying to navigate your life after (a) loss(es), I’m with you there, too. Know that you are allowed to remember. You’re allowed to ache. You’re allowed to grieve and love silently, but you’re also allowed to grieve and love out loud if you choose. Commemorating the dates and lives that those around us may not recognize or know about can look however you would like it to.
Some ways you may consider commemorating the loss of your bab(y/ies):
An annual celebration - It may help to celebrate the life of the baby you lost. You could do this with cake, flowers, or even simply getting ice cream or a dessert from your favorite restaurant on your baby’s due date each year
Starting or continuing therapy to help you process the loss you have experienced
Going for a walk on due dates (and any day where the loss feels particularly near), spending time thinking about and reflecting on the love and loss you feel
Writing a letter each year– this could be to the baby you lost, to yourself, or more of a reflection – whatever feels right and authentic for you
Getting and lighting a specific candle in memory of your loss
Getting a piece of jewelry to wear or a stuffed animal that commemorates the life of your baby
Engaging in some kind of recognition, celebration, or memorial of sorts doesn’t have to be something you do to try to “move on” or, conversely, to “avoid moving on.” For me, it's about acknowledging love that doesn’t have an outlet and giving myself permission and space to grieve very real losses that I may otherwise stuff down and not feel. You don’t have to have a “goal” for the way you acknowledge or grieve the babies you lost. If it helps you process, remember, love, and/or grieve them and your experience, then it is worth doing.
Lessons from the Losses We Carry
Really, this is a note of reflection to offer you solidarity if you, too, carry invisible birthdays in your heart and mind. If one, five, ten, or even twenty years have gone by and you still feel the pang of grief when that due date comes and goes, you are not alone. These babies mattered, your experience mattered – it still matters, it will always matter.
Loss continues to be my teacher: there is no right or wrong way to grieve what could have and should have been. There is no way to “complete the process of grieving” for a life that you will carry in the depths of your heart and mind for the rest of yours. You are not “doing it wrong” if you feel as deeply about your loss several years down the road as you did when you were experiencing it for the first time. As time passes, different parts of me grieve different parts of the losses I have experienced. And I’m learning to remain open to all of the feelings and thoughts that accompany this part of me and my life.
In college, I was struck by one of E.E. Cummings’ most well-known love poems, specifically this line: “i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) i am never without it (anywhere i go you go, my dear.” I didn’t know it at the time, but this would be a poem that would hold new and layered meanings for me well into my adult years. Whenever I am overwhelmed by the weight of loss or underwhelmed by the world’s response to it, I am comforted by the thought that I do and will always carry the hearts of those I have lost inside my own.
By: Erika Muller, Assistant for Wildflower Therapy LLC
All images via Unsplash
How Can Wildflower Therapy in Philadelphia, PA Help You?
If you’re looking for someone to come alongside you to help you unpack and approach the the complex set of experiences and emotions that come with parenthood, longing, and loss, our therapists in Pennsylvania are honored to help! In fact, you can get to know a little bit more about them here and book a free consultation here.
Other Mental Health Services Provided by Wildflower Therapy, Philadelphia, PA
Life is a unique and sometimes messy journey for each of us; we all have our own individual battles to fight. Our therapists know there is no one-size-fits-all approach to any of life’s challenges and because of that, we offer many unique perspectives and approaches to help meet you where you are with our Philadelphia, PA Therapy services.
With this in mind, we offer services for eating disorder therapy, services for anxiety, and depression, and have practitioners who specialize in perinatal mental health , maternal mental health, therapy for college students and athletes. As well as LGBTQIA+ Affirming Therapy. Accordingly, we have something to offer just about anyone in our Philadelphia, PA office. Reaching out is often the most difficult step you can take to improve your mental health. We look forward to partnering with you on this journey!
