I have to mention a book I read recently because it was so beautiful, so spare and so haunting. Called An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination, by Elizabeth McCracken, it tells the author’s story of going through a first pregnancy in her late 30s, only to have the child die in her womb in the 41st week of pregnancy.
It brings up all sorts of questions. Would her child be alive if she’d used more modern medical services, if she’d had different guidance? Where do you draw the line between trusting your body and taking proactive measures to ensure your child is safe? These questions are left unanswered, for the reader to ponder on her own.
Most enlightening is her depiction of what it is like to go through such grief. She describes it in an accessible manner and she helps people understand what they can do to be helpful to someone going through the loss of a child. Number one: mention the loss, don’t pretend it doesn’t exist.
Here is an interesting interview of McCracken by a British journalist: