The Autumn of my life began in July 1977. I was 8 months pregnant when I suddenly went into labor and delivered my daughter….stillborn.
As suddenly as a life is conceived, a life may end. As much as we may want, anticipate and long for a child, we may equally grieve and mourn and fall prey to depression. There is no guidebook or manual to read that instructs us on how to be…how to cope… or how to live with the sadness.
Because my mother died when I was very young, I didn’t know what to expect with pregnancy or delivery. I didn’t know about children or even the smallest part of mothering. You would think, however, that I would have known how to deal with the loss and pain, but alas.. I did not.
It seems I was completely inept at grieving. All the years of missing my mother somehow tumbled into the loss of my child. It became one and the same. Old grief and new loss melded.
Through time, of course, a slow mending began and healing took root, but parts were hard and lonely and dark. Then finally, another pregnancy. During this 2nd pregnancy, I dared not to plan or prepare. I waited to think of names and I drug my feet at buying a crib. Then somewhere after the 8th month, I took a breath and instinctively knew it would be ok. I felt an inkling of peace, a boost of hope, and a firm resolve that no matter what, everything would be alright. And, it was.
My Autumn would turn 40 years old this July. In my mind, she is a baby. A wee little soul flying back from whence she came. I sometimes like to think that maybe my mother is holding my daughter. Hopefully, my mother was there to meet her as she floated to the other side. Perhaps, the two of them have enjoyed these 40 years together as grandmother and grandchild. It heals my soul to think so. My mother, who never lived to be a grandmother and my daughter, who didn’t live to be a child, living perfectly together, healed and whole; connected, just like I would have wanted.
Someday, when my time here is ended, I know those two will be there to greet me as I cross the bridge. Hand in hand, two souls will welcome me and whisper, “We missed you!” My heart will know them instantly and in that moment, the Autumn of my life will be complete.
4 thoughts on “The Autumn of My Life”
Nancy, I love you and miss you. I didn’t know of your miscarriage . I’m sorry , I too hope to see my sweet son in heaven some day.
What a heavenly reunion that will be! Love you always Nell. Thank you for reading xoxo
So grateful for your gift of writing and photography. Also that you are willing to share your life, vulnerability, truth, and feelings. Your stories touch my heart in ways only you can. I hope and believe that you will receive this gift. Also, I believe your Mom greeted and has held your precious Autumn. Love, Peggy D.
Thank you for the kind words Peggy. We all have a story to tell, don’t we? I love you and miss seeing you! xo