baby, baby, baby
Glory
Jay-Z wrote this rap ode after the birth of his and Beyoncé's baby girl. I find that incredibly sweet - his voice sounds like the exhausted but exulted doting dad he will probably be. But what I find really remarkable, powerful, and brave are his references to their prior miscarriage. As common as miscarriages are, no one, celebrities especially, likes to talk about them. And so most people don't. It remains one of those sad, dark secrets that only comes out in one-on-one conversations with a girlfriend, or during a check up with a new doctor. Otherwise, an event that, for anyone who has had one, marks a woman and her partner indelibly, becomes taboo, too painful to bring up, and too difficult to ask about. Yes, I think that sometimes it's just as hard for people to listen and respond sensitively to the tragedy of a lost baby as it is to bring the event up in the first place.
Having been through two miscarriages, I can now talk about both of them without crying. Well, usually. It depends on the person listening. Writing this post, I do feel a bit raw, remembering the nauseating discomfort of explaining why I was no longer expecting to some people. Wanting both to erase the truth and to vomit all the details, emotions, worries, up and out of me, so it wouldn't rot and fester inside.
So. I'm so thankful to and proud of artists, celebrities, friends, everyday people who share their story(ies) of miscarriage. It transforms a traumatic, often isolating personal tragedy into something more shared, more common, and easier to move/live through.
Jay-Z wrote this rap ode after the birth of his and Beyoncé's baby girl. I find that incredibly sweet - his voice sounds like the exhausted but exulted doting dad he will probably be. But what I find really remarkable, powerful, and brave are his references to their prior miscarriage. As common as miscarriages are, no one, celebrities especially, likes to talk about them. And so most people don't. It remains one of those sad, dark secrets that only comes out in one-on-one conversations with a girlfriend, or during a check up with a new doctor. Otherwise, an event that, for anyone who has had one, marks a woman and her partner indelibly, becomes taboo, too painful to bring up, and too difficult to ask about. Yes, I think that sometimes it's just as hard for people to listen and respond sensitively to the tragedy of a lost baby as it is to bring the event up in the first place.
Having been through two miscarriages, I can now talk about both of them without crying. Well, usually. It depends on the person listening. Writing this post, I do feel a bit raw, remembering the nauseating discomfort of explaining why I was no longer expecting to some people. Wanting both to erase the truth and to vomit all the details, emotions, worries, up and out of me, so it wouldn't rot and fester inside.
So. I'm so thankful to and proud of artists, celebrities, friends, everyday people who share their story(ies) of miscarriage. It transforms a traumatic, often isolating personal tragedy into something more shared, more common, and easier to move/live through.
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