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The Myriad Meanings of a Pregnancy The Myriad Meanings of a Pregnancy
(about 13 hours later)
I meet a lot of women in my working life who are desperate to become mothers, and also those who may have to delay motherhood, or not want to take that path. They seek me out for help with a range of psychological and emotional issues: We discuss their inner and outer worlds, how they relate to others and themselves, their bodies, their pregnancies and in some cases, the babies they’d hoped to have but lost. Our conversations, in England, are rooted in a freedom that is currently imperiled across the United States, from Georgia to Alabama to Iowa, and that my fellow citizens in Northern Ireland also don’t have. I’ve been starkly re-reminded in recent months how the state can have a tremendous bearing on a woman’s private life. I meet a lot of women in my working life who are desperate to become mothers, and also those who may have to delay motherhood, or not want to take that path. They seek me out for help with a range of psychological and emotional issues: We discuss their inner and outer worlds, how they relate to others and themselves, their bodies, their pregnancies and in some cases, the babies they’d hoped to have but lost. Our conversations, in England, are rooted in a freedom that is currently imperiled across the United States, from Georgia to Alabama to Iowa, and that my fellow citizens in Northern Ireland also don’t have. I’ve been starkly reminded in recent months how the state can have a tremendous bearing on a woman’s private life.
I am a psychotherapist specializing in pregnancy loss. I am also a firm believer in a woman’s right to her bodily autonomy. I could never have predicted how my work would buttress my belief that a woman’s desperate desire for her pregnancy to end in a live birth is as equally valid and honorable as the next woman’s choice to end hers. Some might see an incongruence between my vehement pro-choice position and my impassioned work supporting parents-to-be who are buckling under the strain of miscarriage or of being unable to conceive. If I’m so passionate, this line of thinking goes, about the profound nature of “babies” lost in early pregnancies — as well as the need to acknowledge a would-be parent’s grief, parenthood and desire to memorialize a child-to-be — how could I also endorse, and support, a decision to stop a baby coming into being?I am a psychotherapist specializing in pregnancy loss. I am also a firm believer in a woman’s right to her bodily autonomy. I could never have predicted how my work would buttress my belief that a woman’s desperate desire for her pregnancy to end in a live birth is as equally valid and honorable as the next woman’s choice to end hers. Some might see an incongruence between my vehement pro-choice position and my impassioned work supporting parents-to-be who are buckling under the strain of miscarriage or of being unable to conceive. If I’m so passionate, this line of thinking goes, about the profound nature of “babies” lost in early pregnancies — as well as the need to acknowledge a would-be parent’s grief, parenthood and desire to memorialize a child-to-be — how could I also endorse, and support, a decision to stop a baby coming into being?
It’s true that when my clients describe their grief after miscarriage, they usually speak of the “baby” that they lost. They do this even though a vast majority of miscarriages will happen before the end of the first trimester, when the potential human created after fertilization is medically described as an “embryo,” and then, after about eight weeks, is described as a “fetus.”It’s true that when my clients describe their grief after miscarriage, they usually speak of the “baby” that they lost. They do this even though a vast majority of miscarriages will happen before the end of the first trimester, when the potential human created after fertilization is medically described as an “embryo,” and then, after about eight weeks, is described as a “fetus.”
But the use of the word “baby” in this context bears no correlation to its gestation or viability. (Indeed, I work with many people grieving embryos created by the IVF process that never even resulted in a pregnancy). The “baby” that I talk about with the bereaved is one that lived in her own mind, the one that she forged a profound relationship with that possibly, probably, involved love. It by no means follows that I believe every pregnancy creates a “baby” or indeed a legal person that needs protecting by law. But the use of the word “baby” in this context bears no correlation to its gestation or viability. (Indeed, I work with many people grieving embryos created by the I.V.F. process that never even resulted in a pregnancy.) The “baby” that I talk about with the bereaved is one that lived in her own mind, the one that she forged a profound relationship with that possibly, probably, involved love. It by no means follows that I believe every pregnancy creates a “baby” or indeed a legal person that needs protecting by law.
The “baby” lost to miscarriage captures a future-oriented fantasy child. While it may not have discernible limbs, an expectant parent may well have held it in her arms, pushed it in a buggy or even chosen the color of its nursery wall. This baby may have nestled in a mind for months — or even years. Hilary Mantel describes this exquisitely in her memoir “Giving Up The Ghost”: “Children are never simply themselves, coextensive with their own bodies, becoming alive to us when they turn in the womb, or with their first unaided breath. Their lives start long before birth, long before conception, and if they are aborted or miscarried or simply fail to materialize at all, they become ghosts within our lives.” The “baby” lost to miscarriage captures a future-oriented fantasy child. While it may not have discernible limbs, an expectant parent may well have held it in her arms, pushed it in a buggy or even chosen the color of its nursery wall. This baby may have nestled in a mind for months — or even years. Hilary Mantel describes this exquisitely in her memoir “Giving Up the Ghost”: “Children are never simply themselves, coextensive with their own bodies, becoming alive to us when they turn in the womb, or with their first unaided breath. Their lives start long before birth, long before conception, and if they are aborted or miscarried or simply fail to materialize at all, they become ghosts within our lives.”
Through my work, I have learned to make room for myriad interpretations of a pregnancy, as each will be tethered to its own meaning. I know that a miscarriage isn’t inevitably a devastation, nor will grief always follow. I spoke with a woman only a couple of weeks ago, shattered by the shocking nature of her sudden miscarriage, which had involved great pain and blood loss. Yet this had happened before a “baby” had been called to her mind. It was, to her, “not yet anything real” — a descriptor that, were I to use it, could gravely hurt another of my clients.Through my work, I have learned to make room for myriad interpretations of a pregnancy, as each will be tethered to its own meaning. I know that a miscarriage isn’t inevitably a devastation, nor will grief always follow. I spoke with a woman only a couple of weeks ago, shattered by the shocking nature of her sudden miscarriage, which had involved great pain and blood loss. Yet this had happened before a “baby” had been called to her mind. It was, to her, “not yet anything real” — a descriptor that, were I to use it, could gravely hurt another of my clients.
As with miscarriage, “abortion” is a term that describes a potentially vast range of experiences. For one woman it may mean the ending of an unwanted pregnancy, involving an “embryo” or “fetus” or “ball of cells” or “body part” that she had no emotional attachment to. That wasn’t her baby. Yet the choice to end a pregnancy can also involve saying goodbye to a baby that was loved, but came at the wrong time, or would have struggled enormously to have lived without distress in the world — or may even have died at birth, or soon after.As with miscarriage, “abortion” is a term that describes a potentially vast range of experiences. For one woman it may mean the ending of an unwanted pregnancy, involving an “embryo” or “fetus” or “ball of cells” or “body part” that she had no emotional attachment to. That wasn’t her baby. Yet the choice to end a pregnancy can also involve saying goodbye to a baby that was loved, but came at the wrong time, or would have struggled enormously to have lived without distress in the world — or may even have died at birth, or soon after.
I have yet to talk to a woman who hasn’t thought long, and hard, about choosing an abortion. Nor have I talked to a woman who hasn’t thought long and hard about how she feels after a miscarriage. Each and every time I listen to a woman’s thinking about her pregnancy, I learn what it meant to her, and so, what her relationship to her unborn was. Any other view is none of my business to have.I have yet to talk to a woman who hasn’t thought long, and hard, about choosing an abortion. Nor have I talked to a woman who hasn’t thought long and hard about how she feels after a miscarriage. Each and every time I listen to a woman’s thinking about her pregnancy, I learn what it meant to her, and so, what her relationship to her unborn was. Any other view is none of my business to have.
Julia Bueno is a London-based psychotherapist who specializes in working with pregnancy loss and the author of the forthcoming book “The Brink of Being: Talking About Miscarriage.”Julia Bueno is a London-based psychotherapist who specializes in working with pregnancy loss and the author of the forthcoming book “The Brink of Being: Talking About Miscarriage.”
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