Love, loss and the mothers who carry both

Love, loss and the mothers who carry both (Photo: iStock) They say that time heals all wounds. However, there are certain wounds that never fully heal. They may scab over and dull with the years, but underneath lies a pain so deep that it never quite leaves. For many women, this pain manifests as an empty cradle: a baby never brought home; a child whose heartbeat faded too soon; a life lost before it even began. Across the country, women are sharing stories of stillbirth and infant loss, tales that are rarely spoken aloud. These are not tales easily told, as our culture often urges silence, urging us to "move on" or "try again". But, as these women will tell you, there is no replacing a child. And yet, the heart still longs, the body still remembers and the soul must find a way to carry on living. Grace was only 24 when she became a mother for the first time. She still remembers the sharp, sweet smell of hospital disinfectant, the sterile whiteness of the room and the tiny bundle wrapped in pink that was placed in her arms. Her daughter lived for three months before a sudden illness took her life. "I thought I would die," Grace says softly. "The house became so quiet, my breasts were still full of milk, but my baby was gone. I didn't know who I was without her." Well-meaning relatives urged her to "be strong" and try for another child. And soon, she did. The pregnancy that followed was marked by both anticipation and terror. When her son was born, healthy and wailing, she expected relief. Instead, she found herself haunted. "I kept staring at him and seeing my daughter," Grace confesses. "He was not just himself; he was her replacement. I could not separate the two in my mind. I was so afraid to love him because I thought he would also be taken away." The guilt consumed her. She felt grateful for the gift of a second chance, yet the shadow of her firstborn never left. For years, she lived in this tug-of-war of emotions; joy tainted with sorrow and presence mixed with absence. "It took counselling and prayer for me to finally see my son as his own person," Grace says. "But even now, every birthday and every milestone, I think of her. I celebrate him, but I grieve her. That's the strange life of a mother who has lost her baby." For Miriam, motherhood was supposed to be her redemption. After a difficult childhood, she dreamed of holding a baby who was wholly hers, who would call her "mommy" and know her embrace. But when she went into labour at 38 weeks, her baby's heart had already stopped. "They wrapped her up and gave her to me to say goodbye," Miriam recalls, her voice breaking. "She was perfect, ten fingers, ten toes, lips just like mine. But she was not breathing." The hospital room felt suffocating. There were no cries, no lullabies, no hurried nurses placing her baby on her chest. Only silence. "When I came home, everyone avoided the subject. They told me not to dwell on it. Some said I should be grateful because I was young and I could try again. But I didn't want to try again. I didn't want another baby. I wanted her." For years, Miriam resisted the idea of pregnancy. Even the sight of pregnant women in matatus or malls triggered her grief. "People don't understand," she says. "A stillbirth is not just a lost pregnancy. It is a lost child. I carried her for nine months. I dreamed about her. She had a name. She had a place in my heart. That loss is real, and it is forever." Psychologist Carolyne Karanja explains that the pain of infant loss or stillbirth is not something a woman simply "gets over." Instead, it is a journey through grief and often, back and forth between its stages. Carolyne explains that the journey through loss, any loss, often follows what psychologists call the five stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. But she is quick to remind that these stages are not a neat and linear path. "A mother may wake up in acceptance one morning and by evening, find herself back in anger or depression. It is a cycle, not a checklist," she says. In the earliest days, denial often takes hold. Many mothers struggle to believe their baby is truly gone. They may find themselves listening for a cry, waiting for a kick, or waking up each morning hoping it was all a nightmare. Then comes anger, sometimes directed inward, with crushing self-blame and other times cast outward, at doctors, partners, at fate, even at God. Bargaining often follows, with painful "if only" thoughts: If only I had tested more, if only I had attended clinic more often, if only I had prayed harder, maybe my baby would still be here. When those bargains collapse, depression can settle in, bringing a heavy sadness that isolates and sometimes impairs. Many women withdraw from friends and family who cannot understand the depth of their grief. Eventually, some mothers reach a fragile place of acceptance. But acceptance, Carolyne stresses, does not mean forgetting or moving on. "A mother may always feel a pang at birthdays or due dates," she says. "But acceptance is when she can remember her baby with tenderness, not only with pain." It is from this space of fragile acceptance that healing can begin. And while there is no single path, Carolyne believes there are steps that can help mothers find light in the darkness. So what helps a mother who has lost her baby? Carolyne explains that healing begins by allowing the grief to take its course. Suppressing emotions, she says, only forces them to surface later in sharper, more painful ways. "Cry if you must, scream if you must. Grief is the price of love," she reminds. For many women, creating rituals of remembrance can also bring comfort. Planting a tree, writing a letter, or keeping a small keepsake offers a tangible way to honour the baby's life and provides a channel for the love that still lingers. She also emphasises the importance of seeking support. Whether it is through professional counselling, a support group, or the listening ear of a trusted friend, speaking the grief aloud can soften the heavy sense of isolation. Faith and spirituality, too, play a role for many. Prayer and community can provide strength when human words fall short, anchoring women in something larger than themselves. And finally, she urges couples not to forget each other. Partners grieve differently, and this can strain a marriage. "Talk, even when it is hard," she says. "Your partner lost a child, too." Stillbirth and infant loss are words whispered in shadows. But perhaps it is time they were spoken aloud. For every woman who cries quietly in the night, countless others understand.

Love, loss and the mothers who carry both

Get Full Access for Ksh299/Week.

Stand With Bold Journalism.
Stand With The Standard.

Related Topics

Popular this week

Latest Stories

The Standard Insider

Digger Classified

GET OUR NEWSLETTER

CONNECT WITH US

FOR THE LATEST JOB ADVERTS

DIGGER JOBS

Digger Motors

Digger Real Estate

Love, loss and the mothers who carry both

Get Full Access for Ksh299/Week.

Stand With Bold Journalism. Stand With The Standard.

Related Topics

Trending Now

Popular this week

Latest Stories

The Standard Insider

Digger Classified

GET OUR NEWSLETTER

CONNECT WITH US

FOR THE LATEST JOB ADVERTS

Stand With Bold Journalism.
Stand With The Standard.