Unprotected by Sophie Jonas Hill

This is a very personal response because I’m not sure I expected the visceral power of this book. Even though it was billed as raw and honest, I didn’t expect to feel emotionally wrung out by this character’s experiences. In a strange parallel I am currently writing about my experiences of recurrent miscarriage for the memoir portfolio of my MA and it could have been that these memories were at the forefront of my mind as I read. Lydia our protagonist, is a tattoo artist and as the book opens is going through her fifth miscarriage. She and Max are exhausted and raw, but instead of coming together in their grief, it blows them apart. More used to helping others, than accepting help, Lydia tries to avoid what has happened rather than face it.

Sometimes, when we try to avoid feelings that make us uncomfortable we show a ‘covering feeling’ instead. In Lydia’s case she is uncomfortable allowing herself to feel the pain and sadness of loss, for her babies and her relationship, so she acts out from anger instead. She goes on a wild night out, drinks and tries different drugs. The next morning she wakes up next to a much younger man. Instead of being an uplifting new beginning, he brings even more complications into her life just as she’s struggling to keep her head above water..Can she put this down as a one night fling or is she about to become more involved with this unstable young man than she should?  In what seems to be another avoidance tactic, Lydia develops an obsession with a young teenage tearaway of a girl she often sees from her apartment window. She desperately wants to help, but with all the pain she’s storing up, does she have room to take on someone other people’s problems?

This a searingly honest portrayal of love and loss. I recognise the powerlessness of miscarriage; the knowledge that whatever  you do nothing can stop it from happening. It feels life changing, but yet nobody else can see or know what is happening. I recognise the fear that this will never happen. The frustration that something other women can do without even thinking about it, or even wanting it, is not possible for you. Something stops you fulfilling the most natural function of being a woman - bringing new life into the world. You feel that something is missing from you, Something that makes you a real woman.

There is also the worry that physically your body can’t take much more. Or that mentally you simply don’t have the capacity to hold that amount of grief. The pull between trying just once more and drawing a line to save your sanity is constant. Just once more might work, but what if it doesn’t? Do I have the ability to keep holding it together? I also split from my partner at the time because I felt changed beyond recognition and I couldn’t see him grieving. He simply seemed to carry on regardless, whereas I locked myself in the bathroom to cry for hours at a time.  It’s also no coincidence that after three miscarriages, I ended up with three cats. The urge that Lydia has to turn her pain into helping someone else is understandable. It’s turning her thwarted maternal instinct into something positive. The bravery of taking that risk shows how strong Lydia is and how she is able to find hope, even after everything she’s gone through.

For me, this was sometimes a painful read. However, as a multiple miscarriage patient I really appreciated the honesty in writing about the subject. Especially since it wasn’t sugar coated or wrapped within a happily ever after love story. The pain is written across every page and I found it deeply moving and above all, real.