Oh, am I a lucky gal. I’ve had the great privilege over the last several years to be steeped in Empty Arms in a number of ways:
- As a facilitator of our monthly Miscarriage Support Group, I get to sit with families all over Western Massachusetts as they try to begin to make sense of and peace with their early losses.
- In our monthly Subsequent Choices Support Group, I join Carol in helping families navigate the sticky realm of pregnancy after loss.
- As the secretary of the Empty Arms board, I find it wholly fulfilling to help dream up and execute new ways of expanding our organization’s reach to even more families in New England and beyond.
In nearly every meeting every month, I say to our families, “I’m sorry you have reason to be here, but I sure am glad you are.” Because six years ago this month, I joined this rotten club, myself. And what I needed more than anything during my first and second miscarriages was a sense that I was not alone in my devastation.
In the wake of my losses, I needed to know that the questions I had—why had this happened? How it would change me and my partner? What might be next for us?—were within the realm of normal, whatever that now meant. I felt unmoored. I felt invisible. I questioned whether my grief was selfish, silly, overblown.
And in my first Bereavement Support Group, I learned what I needed: My miscarriages mattered. They still do.
So do yours.
I would be so grateful if, after reading this, you might share our Empty Arms resources with someone you love who might need them. When I’m not leading groups, I’m a professional writer and editor and sometime librarian, so I love when the right information falls into hands that need them at exactly the right time.
(And if you feel moved to help support our work, I gratefully invite you to do so here.)
I’m now also the mom of an ebullient preschooler. But without question, my losses shaped the person—and parent—I am today.