Day 14 (Thursday 14th December 2017)
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14 - the age of James Lord Pierpont when he ran away to sea and joined a whaling ship.
Pierpont was the composer of "Jingle Bells", the only Christmas song that doesn't mention Christmas.
(That is because it was commissioned by his father in 1857, for a Thanksgiving Service.)
"Jingle Bells" was the first tune played live in space. When astronauts Tom Stafford and Wally Schirra
were preparing to re-enter Earth's atmosphere on 16 December 1965, Stafford contacted Mission Control
to report a UFO. ‘We have an object, looks like a satellite going from north to south, probably in polar orbit . . .
Looks like he might be going to re-enter soon . . . I see a command module and eight smaller modules in front.
The pilot of the command module is wearing a red suit.’Before Houston could reply
Schirra started playing "Jingle Bells" on a harmonica he had taken into space,
accompanied by Stafford making jingling bells sounds.
Pierpont, the composer, was the uncle of J.P. Morgan, the successful financier. Pierpont himself died in penury.
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Today's piece is written by a highlyrespected HR expert - Janet Webb. Janet is an Associate Lecturer in HR and L&D for Chichester College's CIPD programme and is also a highly competent and valued consultant; she works via her own firm - Janet Webb Consulting, which she founded in September 2012, having previously worked within the public sector. She specialises in helping people to learn and grow. Janet uses "audacious" as a way of describing her work - it could also apply to her Advent Blog post. She is prepared to speak what few will say aloud. Like Day 9's post, this is a useful read both for those who have suffered a miscarriage but also for those around them who may not know what to say or how to react. She is active on social media and will, I am sure, be pleased to hear from you - her Twitter handle is @JWebbConsulting .
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Darkness
Miscarriage is not the happiest of subject matters but a
topic that affects so many people - about one in four pregnancies. I have
written this in the hope of answering two questions:
- Why
is it quite so upsetting?
- How
do I support someone going through this?
I worked in a hospital at the time of my miscarriages. The
obstetrician was fantastically supportive and kind, but many of my colleagues
said the most appalling things to me; not from malice but from misjudgement. It
was really confusing. It was hard enough to get my head around the fact that I
had been a mother who had never held or kissed her child. To be subjected to
pseudo-medical guesswork was just more than I could bear. After the first
miscarriage I went into a form of shock. I was back at work on the Monday,
apparently fine. By the Friday I was in pieces and I didn't really understand
why. Now I do understand why but it took a while to work it out.
For those going though miscarriage one of the hardest things
to deal with is other people's reactions. The problem, I believe, is created by
a difference of perspective. For friends and family the miscarriage is a
medical event - the pregnancy has stopped - but for the hopeful parents, what
is lost is not the pregnancy but the baby in their arms. And it is this baby,
fully imagined, fully cherished, that is lost. I have many friends who have
also had this experience. Loved ones wanting to support but unsure of what to
say, because of their perspective getting it horribly wrong; the very people
who should be pouring love and support, just end up pouring more darkness.
So How Do You Be Their Dawn? - for the mothers and the partners.
- Understand
that you are helping someone who is grieving (as well as dealing with
chaotic hormones and probably having undergone a fairly grim, clinical
procedure.)
- Don't
assume that when someone says "I'm fine" that they are. Don't
assume that the "I'm fine" from yesterday is still true today or
even in a month's time.
- Don't
keep going on about it. Don't get frustrated when they do.
- Do
NOT say:
· it was for the best (it wasn't - it really,
really wasn't the best)
· at least you have your other child (they are not
consolation prizes)
· well at least you know that you can get pregnant
(this was not a dress rehearsal; this was the real thing.)
- If
you notice anyone saying the above, have a word.
- DO
say:
·
I'm so sorry.
·
How can I help?
·
This is really sad news.
·
I'm sorry that I don't know what to say.
- Hug
them. Remember to hug the partner; they're grieving too.
- Help.
If you can, turn up and do the washing up, hoovering, making tea for
visitors. They'll be mortified that you did their washing up etc. but will
also be relieved that it's done. You have to play this one really
carefully so have empathy dials up to max.
- Turn
up with food; my friend Sarah turned up with a casserole and jacket
potatoes already cooked and still hot - I just needed to put them on the
plate. I sobbed.
- If
you are their manager, treat them as you would after any bereavement. Take
particular care to remember point 1 and 2.
I had a very spiritual experience a while ago that helped me
deal with my own miscarriages. I share that here
in the hope that it brings some peace, clarity and hope.
One final point; if this is you then you are not alone. The
miscarriage association have a fabulous website. Speak to your
friends and family; there will be people close by who have been through exactly
what you are going through. Lean on them. Say yes to help. Be difficult. Rage. Love.
Grieve.
