Guilt

Guilt is fairly common when dealing with child loss. And it's not just the personal aspects stemming from the events leading up to the loss that involve self blame, but this guilt extends to multiple avenues and in to some very different relationships. It can be difficult to navigate the relationships involved.
The first route of this guilt that I felt, and still feel most often, surrounds my relationships with my fellow loss community parents. We've all experienced the harrowing loss of a child. We've come together to support each other with this mutual understanding of pain, fear, and even jealousy toward the outside world of naive parents who haven't experienced a loss (and hopefully they never do, too). We cheer each other on when we are able to move forward and continue trying to build our families. And yet, not all of us have been able to move forward in this way. For many of us, it becomes a desperate struggle. We couldn't bring the lost child in to the world safely, so we must do things differently and get pregnant quickly and easily and have a healthy child. For me, the drive to do this was insane. I can't speak for the rest within my close group of the intensity of this drive, but for me, it was even stronger than my initial internal drive to have children before losing Korbin. But I have some very dear friends within my group that are still struggling, and it breaks my heart. They want a child with them just like any of us, but they haven't experienced the success of bringing one in to this world just yet. And it makes me feel so guilty that I get to have P. We're all friends on social media, where I want to share P's successes daily, but I also find myself holding back knowing there are others out there who want to be sharing the same things, but are not able to (hopefully just yet). I totally understand the feeling of jealousy toward those that have children, especially when we were without after leaving the hospital from Korbin's birth. Because I can understand from what I was feeling in that time before P, I can only try to imagine how it has intensified over time as so many around them have finally had children without them, and are continuing to do so. Each success must be a blow to their fragile hearts. They are just the sweetest, kindest, people. But I totally get it when they don't show up to the rainbow baby filled events the rest of us have these days. And man, that guilt though.
The next guilt I experienced, was from finding out some dear friends were stopping their fertility journey despite not having children from it. This one cuts hard and deep as I work in the fertility world and I want joy for every patient I work with. Granted, I'm in the lab, which is a bit removed clinically from the patient care. But every specimen, every case, we hope brings joy to the patients involved. And it is so disheartening when it doesn't. As I was telling some who just revealed the end to their fertility journey recently, we specialists hope for success for every patient who comes through our clinic, and it is so hard for us to accept that there wasn't anything we could do to help some. We want to think we have all the answers, can solve all the problems. But nothing, sadly, is one hundred percent. I feel especially touched by these losses having suffered a loss myself, which deepens my empathy toward the families dealing with this. And yet, I also recognize that it is not the same. We can get pregnant with ease, we've cleared that hurdle without issues. These people have not even been allowed that joy. While it hurts to know others experience loss as well (something I wouldn't even wish upon my worst enemy), their loss seems, to me, even deeper. And I don't know how to connect with that. I want to support their pain, but I tread lightly not knowing the right things to say. God forbid I ask about adoption or fostering, donor eggs or embryos. It's the natural next questions to ask, and yet I can remember being asked those questions after Korbin and feeling so angry and appalled anyone would suggest such things. It's just not that easy. And yet, here we are with P living our lives with a child and experiencing the joy and frustration of raising this little human. All while some of our loved ones literally cannot experience such feelings, no matter how hard they've tried.
Then there's the guilt I feel toward anyone who knows me who has gotten pregnant and had a child since we lost Korbin. Some of them have stayed away from me, most likely not wanting any of the bad-juju I must be carrying since I lost a child. And they of course don't want to take their chances and experience the loss themselves. And some have even confessed their new-found anxiety in knowing that child loss exists because of Korbin. A friend has even told us of not wanting children because of now knowing the chances of losing a child, even though it really is a small chance in this day and age. Great, we have affected others negatively when it comes to starting or continuing parenting journeys. This is so opposite the guilt I feel with my fellow loss parents. I mean, this final group, for the most part, knows the joys of having children, and have easily had children. And yet, they are letting others' experiences stop them from continuing to experience this joy. Versus those within my loss group, or those experiencing infertility, who still don't know the joys of having children with them but allow that drive to build their family to push them in to uncharted territories. I feel guilty that my experiences can affect others so deeply.
Through these different avenues of guilt, I do my best to continue to navigate the many relationships around us that are affected in ways we couldn't have ever imagined after the initial shock of losing Korbin. It's hard to just move forward in a carefree way and just so outwardly enjoy and share parenting. Not only because of our own personal loss, losing Korbin, but now too because of how our loss affects those around us. So, I just do my best to not complain about parenting struggles in front of them. Try to keep any parenting talk light-hearted and funny. But then does that only further their pain of loss? Are we driving their feelings of longing to reach new heights? Sometimes, Ryan jokes to others without kids, "do you really want kids?" Especially when P is really acting up, being his crazy three year old self. That one even makes me cringe a little bit. Of course they want this. The typical teasing becomes difficult. I guess there will always be some we need to walk on egg shells with, and I mean that with respect and love, empathy. Especially as it is probably how others around us feel about their relationship with us. We have to do our best to be conscious of the struggles and fears in others. We hope for this from others who know of Korbin's absence in our lives.
So, if you are reading this and know that you're part of any of the groups above, also know that you are in my thoughts and prayers constantly. We just want the same happiness for you. And we don't meant to bring up feelings of longing or jealousy.
Because we got a lotta love to give.