A memory of loss

When I was a young teenager, I was flipping through a family bible at my grandparents house one weekend. My grandfather had written in the bible the births of each grandchild. To my surprise, there was an entry for a child with no name. I asked my mother, and she told me that she had lost a baby girl when she was 6 months along. The baby died in utero, and she had to deliver it just as if she had carried it full term. She told me very matter of factly, but added that after the loss of that baby, she and my father had decided to have another baby, my brother. At the time, I had no inkling of the grief that must have accompanied that loss. My mother did not seem emotional as she recounted the story to me. Years later, I became pregnant after I had a tubal ligation. This resulted in a tubal pregnancy that burst. I had no idea I was pregnant until after the baby was already gone. Still I mourned that baby. I didn't speak to anyone at all about my grief. I felt that other people would think I was silly if they knew how I felt. After, all, I could have only been a few weeks pregnant, and I didn't even know I had conceived until it was already over. I didn't even talk to my husband about it. He never spoke of the loss of the child, and I never even thought of trying to find out if he too was keeping those feelings inside. The loss of the baby made me realize the pain my mother must have felt and I felt compassion for her. Still I didn't talk about it with her. I didn't know how. I was uncertain if I could express my feelings without becoming an emotional mess. As a child and young adult I cried so easily that I would burst into tears if someone spoke harshly or looked sternly at me. I was often chastised by my peers, teachers, bus drivers, etc., for crying so much, and it made me feel like I was doing something wrong when I cried. Each time I was upset, I would try so hard not to cry, would be horrified when the tears came anyway, then would be doubly upset because I had cried. As an adult I got to where I didn't talk to anyone about how I felt unless I felt totally safe that they wouldn't judge me as weak because I cried. This left me with 1 constant confidante, my husband. Still I judged myself as weak and believed people other than my husband also saw me as weak. I wanted to be strong like my mom. She got angry, she fought, she brooded, she worked through problems and difficulties, but she rarely cried. Because of all of these mixed up ideas of mine, the baby I lost lived on only in my private thoughts. My grief and wonder at what might have been mine were mine alone. Time has changed much. My mom has told me often that she believes I am a strong woman, and I rarely feel the old fear and shame when I cry these days. I don't cry as often, partially because I have hardened up a bit over the years, but mostly because I was finally diagnosed with anxiety and depression issues and am now on medication that helps me cope. My mom and I talk more openly about many things and I value her opinions. I regret that I didn't give her the chance to support me emotionally through the trauma of losing my baby. I think it would have been a blessing to both of us.