The strongest souls feel very cautious about talking to someone about their worries, fears, problems and self-doubts. The strongest souls believe that they don’t have the space to have a weak moment. The strongest souls don’t physically bleed, but they bleed on the inside. The strongest souls have bruises and many wounds that are not visible to the human eye, but that doesn’t mean that they don’t hurt or that they don’t exist. The silent battles have left them scarred. Their metal armour has dents and is worn out. The strongest souls are warriors fighting secret battles. The strongest souls don’t want others to know that behind that hard shell, inside they are breaking. They hide in their shell made of steel to suffer alone, quietly, and without anyone noticing. The strongest souls won’t show their pain because they fear being judged and showing their vulnerability. The strongest souls go about their day, put on a brave face and pretend that the pain is not devouring them on the inside. They stick to their daily routines because that’s how they feel like they have a certain amount of control over their lives. The strongest souls wake up every morning ready to tackle whatever obstacle dare stand in their way. The four walls in the bedroom have become the home of their own personal living hell. The strongest souls have soaked their pillow with rivers of tears, their tears have left stains on the sheets and their bed has been the witness to the most heartbreaking stories. The strongest souls are the ones that cry silently behind closed doors, sobbing out the pain and suffering. The strongest souls fall apart, alone and in private. The strongest souls are the ones that hide their suffering, behind “I am okay” or “ I am fine”. They are the ones that fight so many inner battles, they are the ones that hide their pain behind a smile. The strongest souls are the ones that don’t go around showing what they are feeling in the inside. I have made the choice not to suffer in silence, and I want to invite you to do the same.The strongest souls that you will ever meet are the ones that hurt the most, cry the most and feel the most. And I realized something-when we open up and make the choice not to suffer in silence, we allow others to do the same. A friend’s wife cried with me at a wedding over her own loss. An old roommate reached out to me after something I posted on social media. It connected me to those I never expected to be connected to. It made some people uncomfortable.Īwkward silence (Internally–I was hoping she would just say fine and we could move on).īut it also made some people heal. So I took this vow, and I started openly talking about my miscarriage. Because there was a shame in what they were feeling. And our great-grandmothers–God forbid they be anything less than a martyr. And our grandmothers–no one talked about it. Our mothers–they felt like they had to suffer in silence. You don’t have to suffer in silence…whatever you are feeling and wherever you are in your healing journey. You don’t have to suffer in silence about not knowing if you even want another child. You don’t have to suffer in silence about the jealousy you feel when you see others with their healthy baby bumps. You don’t have to suffer in silence about the pain you feel when you get your period– the harsh remind you are no longer pregnant. You don’t have to suffer in silence about the emptiness that you feel. Still I am grateful for the experience and connection. They also shared laughs and gifts that their babies had given them. They shared their sorrow, grief, and pain. The women in the group were so welcoming and kind. Another told me about a support group that she knew of. Another had one and her mother told her to get over it. One person also had a miscarriage but she never talked about it. People reached out to me from that group. I wrote a blogpost about how I was feeling and something inside of me made me share it in one of my facebook groups. The day after I found out that the baby I thought I was carrying was not there, I stayed home alone and cried.
But I think a big part was not wanting to suffer in silence. Part of it was not wanting them to feel the false hope I had experienced. Minutes after I left the birth center, I texted pretty much everyone in my phone. Nothing else made sense to me, but that message I heard loud and clear. The rest of the words swirled around me and came in and out, but I very clearly heard the message, “You do not have to suffer in silence.” And something inside of me made me latch on to it. I didn’t hear much else of what she said clearly- I’m sorry. “You don’t have to suffer in silence”–my midwife’s words stood out in my mind as the rest of the world around me started to crumble.
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