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Abstract

ning that must have been invented by the most heartless person who ever lived: “You can always have another one.”</p><p id="0cb0">You don’t have to say the right thing. You don’t have to say anything. But by all that is holy NEVER SAY THAT THING.</p><h1 id="dd7a">3. Do NOT Cry</h1><p id="da35">At least not until after, and only if, we do. This might be hard, if you’re an empathetic person. Choke it back, sister. Do whatever it takes.</p><p id="4f48">Depending on where and when you find out, your friend might not have the luxury of letting their own emotional hair down. They might not want to. They might not be comfortable with it. They are most likely trying to be brave and not break down for the zillionth time.</p><p id="5c3a">If you cry when they are not, it puts pressure on them to console you. They might feel guilty for making you sad. They might feel like they have to empathize with you and your feelings.</p><p id="735d">This happened to me umpteen times. I was working at a yoga studio when I lost my baby. I was 20 weeks and the baby-bump was impossible to hide in spandex. So I had to explain to dozens upon dozens of well-wishers that I’d lost the baby — and then comfort them while I tried to zip up my feelings minutes before teaching.</p><p id="219c">So to repeat: do. not. cry!</p><h1 id="8a15">4. Remind Us it’s Okay to Talk About it Again</h1><p id="bc63">One of my biggest fears, in the months that followed my miscarriage, was boring my friends with my problem. In Buddhism they call this the double arrow. You have a difficult feeling (like grief) and then, like the f-you cherry on top, you have difficult feelings about that feeling.</p><p id="3e45">I worried that sharing my grief would make them sad. I worried that they would judge me for not “getting over it.” I worried that they would try to sell me some snake-oil quick-fix and gloss over my ongoing and very real pain.</p><p id="a717">You may not be able to totally squelch your friend’s worry, but by telling them that they can text you in the middle of the night with whatever they are feeling, you will give them some freedom from that awful second arrow. Some times all I needed was to share it, to send it out into the world, even if I knew a friend couldn’t possibly get back to me for hours.</p><p id="c1cc">But I needed permission to find the courage to do so.</p><h1 id="1f90">5. Send a Card or a Gift</h1><p id="c10a">A love note, scribbled on the back of a receipt. Some flowers you stole from your neighbour’s garden. A book that just stole your breath. Their favourite beer. Anything that says, “I love you” and “here’s something beautiful about life.” It may or may not hit the mark, but the thought will almost certainly be appreciated.</p><p id="f5b8">Just make sure it has nothing and — I mean nothing — to do with babies. Or puppies or kittens just to be on the safe side.</p><p id="4758">One friend gave me a tall glass vase with some eucalyptus stems in it. At first I thought it was a funny gift, but in the months following it outlasted any bouquet. Every time I smelled the distinctive scent I was reminded of her thoughtfulness.</p><h1 id="914e">6. In Private, Ask</h1><ul><li>What do you need?</li><li>How can I support you?</li><li>What would make you feel I am here for you?</li><li>Do you want to talk about it?</li><li>Do you want me to bring it up?</li><li>Do you want me to give you space?</li><li>Do you want a hug?</li></ul><p id="4728">Whatever the answer, don’t take it personally. We don’t have room in our brains for other people’s feelings, especially early on. We’re not trying to be ignorant or selfish, but we are navigating “<a href="https:

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//www.press.jhu.edu/news/blog/and-after-loss-neurologist’s-perspective-loss-grief-and-brain">grief brain</a>,” a very real neurological disorder. Neurologist Dr Lisa M Shulman describes this as “a fog of confusion, disorientation, and delusion.”</p><p id="17cd">Please feel free to ask again, in a month. Please please please listen carefully, and remember what we tell you. Write it down, if you don’t have a memory for things like this. It matters. Respect our boundaries.</p><h1 id="a737">7. Put the Date or Month or Season in Your Calendar</h1><p id="bb43">Ok so now you know. You heard the story. You shared your condolences.</p><p id="e380">Please don’t forget. We won’t. We won’t stay sad forever, we promise, but a piece of our heart is broken and nothing will fix it. No shiny new babies. No book deal or lover or trip around the world.</p><p id="7831">Because I was showing and telling when my baby died, I got lots of love and condolences the first few weeks after. But a month later, they had dwindled. Everyone's life had moved on, which is totally fair. But. It made it hard to reach out.</p><p id="d585">If your friend indicated in any way that they want to keep the conversation ongoing, send a loving text at the month mark, preferably early in the morning or later in the evening. If we get it and see it during the workday, it might make a hard day even harder. But it’s lovely to feel seen. To know that someone else still cares that this happened.</p><p id="49ee">If it’s well received, send another at 6 months. At a year.</p><p id="4afa">If you knew the baby’s due date, you can acknowledge that too. Something small but loving, like, “I know this was supposed to be a special day for you. I’m here to listen if you need to talk. Or cry. Or drink. Whatever.”</p><h1 id="7f9f">8. Keep Inviting Us to Things</h1><p id="f48f">Even when we can’t leave the house or don’t have the energy to do anything but carry on, don’t give up on us. You don’t have to be a pain in the ass, or put any pressure on us. Definitely no guilt trips!</p><p id="b4e9">But let us know there’s a world full of fun out there and we are welcome to join in — if and when we’re ready. A concert. A bookclub meeting. A walk in the sun. A fire in the back yard with beers and hot dogs.</p><p id="a283">Whatever we used to love we still want to do. We just may not always be able to do it today.</p><h1 id="aa4e">9. Do NOT Bring it Up in Public or at Work</h1><p id="babe">This should go without saying . . . but this kind of exposure is almost certain to be uncomfortable, if not downright humiliating. What, are we supposed to burst into tears at the conference table? Blubber into our miso soup?</p><p id="0cd3">It’s tantamount to asking us to pull down our pants and waggle our wiggly bits. Sure, some people are ok with that, but odds are that being put on the spot is not helpful. It’s not even kind. It’s about you <i>feeling</i> like a good person who asks and expresses concern, not about <i>being</i> a good person who cares.</p><p id="8a68">If your “friend” is not a person you ever see in private, then they probably don’t want you to bring it up, period. You are not in their inner circle. This is too vulnerable a topic and you have no business mentioning it. The end.</p><p id="dbd5">It’s ok if you don’t nail it. You have your own stuff going on, your own complications. Maybe even your own trauma and loss. We get that. All we’d like is for you to continue to show up, as best you can. To be the kind, compassionate, and patient person that we know you are.</p><p id="57aa">To see us, to listen to us, to love us. To continue to be a great friend.</p></article></body>

9 Ways to Be a Great Friend to Someone Who’s Had a Miscarriage

There’s often nothing worse than everyone pretending it never happened

None of us know what to do, really. I still struggle, even though I’ve had one. It’s complicated and there is no one-size-fits-all solution, nor should there be.

But in talking to several dozen women with whom I’ve been intimate enough to have these kinds of conversations, here are some broad strokes I’ve discovered for what helps.

1. Start with an Innuendo

So here’s the thing: you almost certainly have several friends or family members who have had miscarriages and you don’t even know. Hell, many women don’t even know, but we’ll only talk here about the loss that happens after the pregnancy is confirmed. The statistics for this vary widely, but according to the Mayo clinic we’re talking between 10–20% before 20 weeks. Before, that is, most people even tell.

Of course it’s not your job to ferret them out. But maybe you’ve noticed your friend is suddenly very distracted. Slower to respond to your texts. Absent from events they’d normally be front and centre at (pandemic aside).

Maybe you even know they’ve been trying to conceive. Or they started talking about hopeful baby things and then it fell off the radar. But something in your intuition has starting going, Hmmmmm? I wonder . . .

Unless you have that kind of no-holds-bared relationship, you might want to bring it up but don’t know how to break the ice. They may or may not want to talk about it. But it would be very brave and very lovely of you to open the floor up for them if they do.

In a very private place, a backyard or living room, you could try, “So I was reading this article the other day . . .” and share some of the sad feels, so they know that you’re going to be sympathetic. Or, “I just heard that so-and-so lost a baby, and I can’t help but wonder whether other friends are going through the same thing.”

Don’t push! You just want to send the message: it’s ok to talk about this topic. Because it’s hard to know just who is comfortable with it and who is not. It’s hard, when you’ve lost a child, to know who to trust with your most tender bits.

2. Listen Like Your Life Depended On It

The topic is tabled. Now what? Oh gosh, you think, what the hell am I supposed to say??

You don’t have to say the Right Thing. There is no right thing. No Abracadabra. No Open Sesame.

But we’d love it if you said, “I’m listening.” Or “I can’t imagine.” Or simply nod, encouraging but silent in that way that says without speaking, Go on. Don’t Stop. Nothing you have to share is too much.

Because it can be hard to start talking. We don’t know if we can stop.

But the worst — the very ultimate absolute worst — is when we finally open up and someone slams the conversation door in our face. With a platitude. A story of that one time that you lost your pet. That silver lining that must have been invented by the most heartless person who ever lived: “You can always have another one.”

You don’t have to say the right thing. You don’t have to say anything. But by all that is holy NEVER SAY THAT THING.

3. Do NOT Cry

At least not until after, and only if, we do. This might be hard, if you’re an empathetic person. Choke it back, sister. Do whatever it takes.

Depending on where and when you find out, your friend might not have the luxury of letting their own emotional hair down. They might not want to. They might not be comfortable with it. They are most likely trying to be brave and not break down for the zillionth time.

If you cry when they are not, it puts pressure on them to console you. They might feel guilty for making you sad. They might feel like they have to empathize with you and your feelings.

This happened to me umpteen times. I was working at a yoga studio when I lost my baby. I was 20 weeks and the baby-bump was impossible to hide in spandex. So I had to explain to dozens upon dozens of well-wishers that I’d lost the baby — and then comfort them while I tried to zip up my feelings minutes before teaching.

So to repeat: do. not. cry!

4. Remind Us it’s Okay to Talk About it Again

One of my biggest fears, in the months that followed my miscarriage, was boring my friends with my problem. In Buddhism they call this the double arrow. You have a difficult feeling (like grief) and then, like the f-you cherry on top, you have difficult feelings about that feeling.

I worried that sharing my grief would make them sad. I worried that they would judge me for not “getting over it.” I worried that they would try to sell me some snake-oil quick-fix and gloss over my ongoing and very real pain.

You may not be able to totally squelch your friend’s worry, but by telling them that they can text you in the middle of the night with whatever they are feeling, you will give them some freedom from that awful second arrow. Some times all I needed was to share it, to send it out into the world, even if I knew a friend couldn’t possibly get back to me for hours.

But I needed permission to find the courage to do so.

5. Send a Card or a Gift

A love note, scribbled on the back of a receipt. Some flowers you stole from your neighbour’s garden. A book that just stole your breath. Their favourite beer. Anything that says, “I love you” and “here’s something beautiful about life.” It may or may not hit the mark, but the thought will almost certainly be appreciated.

Just make sure it has nothing and — I mean nothing — to do with babies. Or puppies or kittens just to be on the safe side.

One friend gave me a tall glass vase with some eucalyptus stems in it. At first I thought it was a funny gift, but in the months following it outlasted any bouquet. Every time I smelled the distinctive scent I was reminded of her thoughtfulness.

6. In Private, Ask

What do you need?
How can I support you?
What would make you feel I am here for you?
Do you want to talk about it?
Do you want me to bring it up?
Do you want me to give you space?
Do you want a hug?

Whatever the answer, don’t take it personally. We don’t have room in our brains for other people’s feelings, especially early on. We’re not trying to be ignorant or selfish, but we are navigating “grief brain,” a very real neurological disorder. Neurologist Dr Lisa M Shulman describes this as “a fog of confusion, disorientation, and delusion.”

Please feel free to ask again, in a month. Please please please listen carefully, and remember what we tell you. Write it down, if you don’t have a memory for things like this. It matters. Respect our boundaries.

7. Put the Date or Month or Season in Your Calendar

Ok so now you know. You heard the story. You shared your condolences.

Please don’t forget. We won’t. We won’t stay sad forever, we promise, but a piece of our heart is broken and nothing will fix it. No shiny new babies. No book deal or lover or trip around the world.

Because I was showing and telling when my baby died, I got lots of love and condolences the first few weeks after. But a month later, they had dwindled. Everyone's life had moved on, which is totally fair. But. It made it hard to reach out.

If your friend indicated in any way that they want to keep the conversation ongoing, send a loving text at the month mark, preferably early in the morning or later in the evening. If we get it and see it during the workday, it might make a hard day even harder. But it’s lovely to feel seen. To know that someone else still cares that this happened.

If it’s well received, send another at 6 months. At a year.

If you knew the baby’s due date, you can acknowledge that too. Something small but loving, like, “I know this was supposed to be a special day for you. I’m here to listen if you need to talk. Or cry. Or drink. Whatever.”

8. Keep Inviting Us to Things

Even when we can’t leave the house or don’t have the energy to do anything but carry on, don’t give up on us. You don’t have to be a pain in the ass, or put any pressure on us. Definitely no guilt trips!

But let us know there’s a world full of fun out there and we are welcome to join in — if and when we’re ready. A concert. A bookclub meeting. A walk in the sun. A fire in the back yard with beers and hot dogs.

Whatever we used to love we still want to do. We just may not always be able to do it today.

9. Do NOT Bring it Up in Public or at Work

This should go without saying . . . but this kind of exposure is almost certain to be uncomfortable, if not downright humiliating. What, are we supposed to burst into tears at the conference table? Blubber into our miso soup?

It’s tantamount to asking us to pull down our pants and waggle our wiggly bits. Sure, some people are ok with that, but odds are that being put on the spot is not helpful. It’s not even kind. It’s about you feeling like a good person who asks and expresses concern, not about being a good person who cares.

If your “friend” is not a person you ever see in private, then they probably don’t want you to bring it up, period. You are not in their inner circle. This is too vulnerable a topic and you have no business mentioning it. The end.

It’s ok if you don’t nail it. You have your own stuff going on, your own complications. Maybe even your own trauma and loss. We get that. All we’d like is for you to continue to show up, as best you can. To be the kind, compassionate, and patient person that we know you are.

To see us, to listen to us, to love us. To continue to be a great friend.