Let’s Have An Open Dialogue About Miscarriages

Not talking about miscarriage isn’t working. It never worked and women need more support.

Miscarriages aren’t spoken of much, once they have happened. Some women don’t even tell their own families. It is helpful to talk about our sorrows so why is this true?

When a miscarriage occurs, society’s attitude is to not talk about it, in fear that it’s too upsetting. However, not talking about it only makes it harder to move on. After a Pregnancy: Supporting Friends & Family Through Loss, American Pregnancy Association

It does boil down to avoiding awkwardness and fear of making things worse. This is a mistake. We should be there for our friends, family, and even acquaintances.

At twenty-eight I had a beautiful three-year-old girl. We had bought a three-bedroom home with a nice yard, in a good school district. I enjoyed my job as an office manager for a small subcontractor a short commute away. Life was great.

For years I couldn’t hear the Windows boot-up sound without flinching.

When my body unexpectedly felt unsettled, I recognized the feeling. There was no surprise on my part when the stick turned blue. It was not a planned pregnancy and it took my husband by surprise.

He wasn’t as happy as I was, but he had months to get used to the idea. I wasn’t worried.

My body expanded a little quicker the second time around. The doctor smiled and said this was normal. At ten weeks my jeans were tight, and I began looking for roomier clothes.

On a lunch break, I went home one day. I turned on our old desktop and walked across the hall to the bathroom.

In the old days, computers took a while to boot up. I heard Windows music as I noticed the blood. For years I couldn’t hear the Windows boot-up sound without flinching.

It wasn’t a lot of blood. There shouldn’t have been any. I high-tailed it to my doctor’s office and called my boss to explain the situation. If everything was okay, I’d be back in the office after seeing the doctor.

I process by talking.

Everything wasn’t okay, of course. We tried bed rest but they determined later that the baby was already gone.

He or she had probably died at 6 weeks. It took longer for my body to recognize the fact, but once it did, it took care of business.

I process by talking. A lot. My friends and relatives are freaking saints. At least, they qualify as saints of listening. Is there a saint for that?

The answer is always, “No one could help. I didn’t want to talk about it.”

My husband says there are saints for everything. He grew up Catholic. I grew up Baptist, sort of, so no detailed knowledge of saints.

It came as a shock to realize other people didn’t process their grief the same. When I have discovered a friend or relative suffered a miscarriage, years after the fact, I always ask “Why didn’t you tell me? I am so sorry. I would have wanted to help.”

The answer is always, “No one could help. I didn’t want to talk about it.”

Really? Do they not want to talk about it? I sure did. Every. Single. Day. For a long time.

After two weeks, my husband said, “Aren’t you over this yet?” I never talked to him about it again.

I talked to my friends though. I talked to my mom and my sister. I cried in private.

It felt like a failure. This unplanned baby, who I wanted very much, was never to be. The grief didn’t overwhelm, because I processed it.

How do people do it? The not talking? What happens to the grief if it can’t be expressed?

Two-thirds of women who’ve miscarried say they feel they can’t even talk to their best friend about it, according to a 2015 poll of 6,000 women conducted by Tommy’s, a miscarriage-research nonprofit in the United Kingdom. Why It’s Important to Talk About Miscariage, Parents

It can come out in anger, directed inward or outward. Sometimes the person is stalled in their lives. They can’t get past the feelings of guilt. What did they do wrong?

If the person is religious, they may feel that God’s plan included this miscarriage for them. Or they may be angry (there is that anger again) that God allowed it to happen.

Sometimes marriages flounder. Mine apparently did, in slow motion.

My husband later said this time frame was the beginning of his discontent. We still had a planned baby and five more years of marriage ahead of us though.

There can be over-anxiousness and fear of future loss. The next pregnancy will undoubtedly bring much of this back. If the previous grief hasn’t been processed, it will be even more difficult.

The person or couple suffering the loss may decide not to try again. It may be too painful to think of going through it again.

Not everyone is me. They can’t open up to friends, family or even strangers. If that is the case, it is even more important that they consider professional help.

That is a good idea even for those who feel comfortable talking to others about their loss. If anyone feels stuck in their grief, finding a counselor could help. They should find someone qualified to help with the loss of pregnancy.

I had a happy ending. Not too long after my 30th birthday, we welcomed our second daughter into the world.

Because I had processed my grief, she was not a replacement baby for the one we had lost. She was her own person, immediately. Just like our firstborn.

In a way, I thank that lost baby. He or she wasn’t planned, but because of that pregnancy, my desire for a second child ignited. From the moment that stick turned blue, it was obvious that a second baby was exactly what I wanted.

Both my children are the best contribution I have given to the world. They will have their struggles and their triumphs, like everyone else. The world is a better place with them in it.

I wonder about that little baby that never was. Not with sorrow. Not anymore. With curiosity.

What would the baby have become? What lessons might I have learned from having another child in my life?

Because the grief was processed, those questions are idle thoughts. They are not obsessive questions repeated over and over in my mind. I was able to let that baby go, thanks to my willingness to talk.

Perhaps I lost a marriage due to my ex-husband being unwilling to talk. I will never know how much weight to put on the timing he cited. He may have been talking about something else.

It is strange to wonder about that now, so many years later. I am left with the same thought I had before pondering it. People need to express their grief.

They can yell it from the rooftops, or in the pages of Facebook. They can write an essay for Medium.

They can whisper it to their mother or sister. They can sit over coffee and pour out their sorrow to a friend. They can clutch at a Kleenex in a doctor’s office and ask for help.

Or they can do a combination of all the above.

Whatever they do, they shouldn’t fold in on themselves. They shouldn’t listen to a spouse who says “Aren’t you over that yet?”

They should say, “No. No, I’m not. And I don’t think you are either. We need to talk about it.”

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