A Mother's Guilt

I doubt that there is anyone who would ever insinuate that I’m to blame for losing my daughter. Of course I always think that people must think I did something—otherwise, how could they believe it could never happen to them? The guilt over losing a child washes over you often, and sometimes in unexpected ways.

Let me explain that logically I know that I did nothing to cause Vivienne’s death and that there is nothing I could have done to prevent it. But, the heart and the mind often don’t agree, and this is one of those situations where the heart often wins. It is my job as her Mother to protect her, and especially while she was growing inside of my body, it was my job alone.

It’s impossible not to feel as though I’ve failed her. My counselor would always correct me when I said this and tell me that my body failed her, not me. But how do I separate the two? I was carrying a perfect and healthy little girl, and my body forced her out before she was ready, and she died. When your doctor tells you that the loss is a “maternal issue, not a fetal issue” (ouch), it is a constant challenge not to believe I am the one to blame.

I have learned in counseling that when I have these feelings of guilt, I have to counter them with the truth. So each time I start to blame myself for what happened, I repeat to myself “I did everything I knew to do to keep her safe, and I would never have done anything to hurt her.” It’s true, and when I say it enough, I start to believe it again.

I approached pregnancy like I do most things in my life—with lots of research and a mission to do it the “right way” (whatever that is). I read books, I researched online, and I removed every product from my diet and regimen that anyone even thought could do her harm. I changed my face soap and toner because they contained ingredients that could cause miscarriage or low birth weight (and let me tell you, my complexion was not happy with this decision). I gave up caffeine and alcohol months before Vivienne was even a possibility and had 1 sip of a Coke while I was pregnant—that was it. I avoided every food that could cause a problem—no tuna, no soft cheese, no deli meats. I had my meat cooked well done to avoid any possibility of something bad. I took my prenatal vitamins every day, went to see my doctor regularly, ate my fruits and vegetables, and drank my milk (and I HATE milk). I even cut way back on chocolate, which for me is like learning to breathe a new way. So when I say that I did everything I knew to do to keep her safe, I know that I did. But that doesn’t change the outcome.

Even after doing everything I knew to do to keep her safe, I still carry the guilt of the “what if.” What if I had recognized the symptoms as labor and gotten to the doctor or hospital sooner. What if I had been stronger and demanded that the doctors and nurses examine me sooner. What if I had taken it easier and not gone to book club, to work, for that walk and rested instead. What if I had done a thousand things differently and she would be here now.

The grief also comes with guilt. There is guilt that you’re not grieving enough or that you’re grieving too much. When there are moments of normalcy or even laughter, there is guilt over the feeling that I’m not remembering her. I recently had a day where I didn’t cry—my first since Vivienne died. What should be felt as progress instead feels like guilt—that I’ve somehow pushed her aside in my life. It’s not true, but there’s an element that feels like if I don’t think of her and recognize her every second of every day, then I’m not honoring her. She is never far from my thoughts, but when my thoughts focus on other things, I feel bad that she’s not at the center. And when she consumes my thoughts and my grief is so strong, I feel guilt that this is not how she would want me to live and honoring her through sadness isn’t honoring her either.

And there’s guilt when my grief becomes more about me than about her.  Months ago, I made it my personal mission to wake up every morning and ask myself “how will I honor my daughter today?” It can be small things like trying to be more understanding of people and kinder. This helps me put the focus back on Vivienne and off of me. But, there are times every day where all I can see is my own sadness and the piece of our family that isn’t here. When listening to other Mothers complain about midnight feedings or misbehaving children makes me want to scream. Or listening to women complain about the pains of pregnancy makes me want to explode. The bitterness, anger, and jealousy are hard to contain. And when they come out, then I’m not honoring Vivienne, and the guilt piles on again.

So that’s me these days, a walking, living piece of guilt. I’m sure that with time, I will figure out how to reconcile and manage these feelings. I’m also sure that I’ll find new things to feel bad about. I guess that’s part of being a Mom, whether your child is here or not.