I’ve been thinking a lot about Lily Allen the last several days since the media got wind of her miscarriage. Whenever I hear or read about a woman having a miscarriage, I feel this incredible need to reach out. With Ms. Allen, I can’t really do that. No without appearing like a stalker. But I have reached out to other before, even if I don’t know them. I’ve often tried to put those thoughts online…for any others who have just suffered from a miscarriage.
But - the odd thing is - I keep wanting to add the phrase for the first time on the end of that. That’s my fatal flaw and why I don’t reach out as my instincts tell me to. It often sounds like I assume everyone will have more than one. That’s when I realized that there is a difference between first and only. The things I would tell myself after that first miscarriage, are because I suffered many more. But - if I hadn’t suffered any more, maybe those things would not relate? I’m jaded, I guess. Jaded. I just keep coming back to that word. JADED.
I guess through my pregnancy losses, I’ve come up with a set of things that people might tell me that don’t help in the slightest. And my first thought when I hear someone has suffered the same loss, is to call them and say, “These are the things people will tell you. Please ignore them. They won’t make you feel any better.” But then I hear that word again: JADED. If you only have one miscarriage, those words of comfort probably help. The person who says, “It happens for a reason…” probably soothes you in some way. For me? I just want to scream: NO IT DOESN’T. Physically - there may have been a cause to my miscarriage - but that does not give it reason. To me - the spontaneous aborter - there’s a difference.
Hearing someone say, “There’s always next time,” makes me cringe because “next time” simply means another pregnancy loss. “Next time” doesn’t guarantee me a child. But maybe the woman who only has one miscarriage, maybe “next time” will give her a baby. As will her next time. And her next. So she will find that comforting.
In other words - maybe I’m the last person who should reach out to someone who has suffered their first/only miscarriage. Maybe I will take away their hope. Maybe I will undo the good their friends and family have done. Maybe those placating statements gave them peace, and my tortured past comes and disrupts that. Maybe I should put the phone down. Close the email. Just leave the first-timers to suffer with their support network and not disrupt that.
But there are things I say that I think do help. I do not minimize their loss. Not everyone fully understands the pain that comes with such a miscarriage. I do. Our society doesn’t have a proper way to mourn that type of loss. Not one that seems significant, anyway. I always pass along this link which is where I first heard of the Japanese mizuko. It was mentioned by a dearly missed blogger named Chez Miscarriage. I turn to that article with every loss of mine. Or, on the days I’m simply remembering. The days I’m thinking numbers. Counting the children I should have. Crying the tears from the pain passed. I turn to that article. Because, where I may be jaded in my responses to the best-intentioned supporters, I am still one who understands the loss. So - I still reach out and at least say to that woman, “I know.”
So, if I had Lily Allen’s email, I’d email her the link like I have so many other women. I pass it on more often than my phone number. It’s my way of saying, “Here. This helped me. May it help you too.” It’s much better than me telling them my history of more loss, or more pain. Because, if they’re lucky, this will be their ONLY miscarriage and not their FIRST.
And for those of you who had a FIRST? Feel free to be jaded with me.
Edited to Add: I re-read this entry this morning as I was testing something out with my author comments and I thought, “Geezus. That is the worst entry I’ve ever written.” I make it sound like one miscarriage is not a big deal. When, in reality? No loss has been as severe to me as that first, because I have come to expect them along the way. So - if you’ve “only had one” - please don’t let this entry make it sound like your loss is less. Your loss is great - to me - the first was the one that tore me up the most.
Also - to those of you who suffered stillbirths - I can not possibly understand that kind of loss. To me? There is a hug a difference. I couldn’t have held my losses in my arms - you could have, and probably did. I know that emptiness never fades, but I wish you peace with all of my heart.
Excellent post. That article came along around the time I had my first and helped a bit. I haven’t searched for it for a while, glad to have the link again.
And all I can say is “I know too.”
Zoot, the rest of us out here don’t have a clue, you’re right.
I think the difference is that most people see miscarriage as the termination of someone who never was.
You are able to view every pregnancy as the vision of someone who will be. Hence, the grief at the loss.
Big difference.
For some people those ‘words of comfort’ help. But it is very individual. The only words that ever helped me was when a friend said, “Greive that baby as long as you need to.” This is what I did. And I still do. I greive for all of my children that I never met (2 miscarriages and an adoption in between).
I think that miscarriage touches people in very personal ways. Noone takes it the same way, and some take it much harder than others. Maybe I take mine too far, but their would be birthdays are the only things that I have to hold onto and I remember them. I choose to really, because it is all that I have of them. And having them is the most important thing.
I think everyone knows loss…in some form. I just think that every loss is different and it’s so easy to gloss over a miscarriage if you’ve never suffered one. I know I did it my whole childhood, knowing my mother suffered 3 but I never really thought about it as LOSS until I had one myself.
Thank you. I’ve never miscarried (or been pregnant, for that matter), and I never know what to say to someone who’s lost a baby. Even as simple as leaving a comment here should be, I wonder if I have any right to, but I think you touched on a lot of important things: not to minimize her loss, or assume there will be a “next time.” (Actually, I think that goes for a lot of things, not just miscarriage.)
Jaded or not, you’re a sweet person. I have a knee jerk reaction every time someone mentions that they’re pregnant. I always want to scream “BUT SOMETHING CAN GO HORRIBLY WRONG!”
I don’t do this, but it’s always in the back of my mind.
You said what I’ve been thinking. But I don’t think the pat statements of “comfort” really comfort very many. I know they weren’t comforting to me with my first miscarriage. Of course, to me it wasn’t a miscarriage but the death of my child. It didn’t matter that I’d only carried that child inside of me for 10 weeks…I didn’t feel it as something so clinical as a miscarriage. And for some reason, people who hadn’t had one viewed it as just that — a clinical, medical blip.
I always feel like I fall in between the cracks on this. I’ve only had one miscarriage, but I’ve had one stillbirth too. Does that “count”? I mean, yes of course, it’s a loss, but miscarriage is different and has a special sort of pain associated with it (just as stillbirth has another special sort of pain). So I always separate the two in my mind. If someone were to ever ask me how many miscarriages I have had, I always say one. If someone asks me how many children I’ve had or c-sections I’ve had I say three (and always qualify it with “But I have two at home” and then there’s an awkward moment and omg, I’ve totally gotten off track here, haven’t I?).
Anyhow, just wanted to say that I think part of being jaded is no longer having any innocence when it comes to pregnancy. We never assume that we’ll end up with a healthy baby in our arms. We hope, maybe. But never assume.
I only had one, and I still didn’t find those things helpful when people said them.
But I think the least helpful comments were the ones along the lines of “there was probably something wrong with the baby, so it was better for the pregnancy to end now” and “what nature doesn’t want you probably don’t want either.” Looking back I suppose there’s some truth there, but when I was busy grieving the potential baby, that felt so hurtful and as though the person didn’t understand at all what I was going through. Those comments came only from people at least a generation older than me, and I wonder if that had something to do with their perspective.
I still find it hard, being pregnant now, not to say, for the moment, because I’m jaded from all my past losses.
You want Jaded? 15 years married, 10 years trying, numerous miscarriages, and still no baby. Not even one. Yeah, you could say I’m a little jaded.
I suffered only one miscarriage, but the word “only” makes it seem as though that was some sort of trivial event. I truly SUFFERED that miscarriage. And the comments people make about there being a reason for it and there’s always next time made me want to hit the person. I agree with what one person said before… the best thing to hear is, “I’m so sorry this happened. That was your child. Grieve as long as you need to.” And honestly, I don’t think the pain of even one miscarriage ever goes away completely.
thank you so much for sharing that article. i am going to share it with people from now on.
I’ve only had an only. So far. But I have to say that the trite comments meant nothing to me then and I can’t imagine that they’re helpful to very many women who are suffering a first/only miscarriage.
Wonderful post.
I think any loss is hard to give comfort to people. Because all loss is hard and in so many different ways.
And unless you are just plain mean, I think anyone would appreciate you sharing caring thoughts and hugs. Because you have been through it. And I can’t even imagine the pain.
My first, my only? Was a child I had waited to have for years. Nothing anyone says ever makes that loss less painful.
Even as I finished up the nursery today (finally) at 39 weeks into my second pregnancy, I found something I had bought for my first. And I cried.
There is a post in my drafts about how I have had a “I’ll believe it when I see it” attitude throughout this whole pregnancy. I can’t bring myself to finish it. Until this baby gets here.
I’ve had only one pregnancy loss, not quite miscarriage, might be called stillbirth, but most recently termed as intrauterine fetal demise. None of the “comforting words” made me feel any better. I’m jaded because of when my loss happened, sometime between 15 and 20 weeks; I find it hard not to shout warnings of possible doom when other pregnant women sigh with relief after getting through the first trimester.
When someone asked me what they could do to help a friend who’d suffered a miscarriage, I told them not to say any of those things. I said it doesn’t help ease the pain; those ideas of everything happening for a reason or there being a next time or the whole thing being for the best are things that the woman needs to come to on her own as she grieves. I told her to just be there for her, let her know that she can take the time to grieve and that she can talk about it with you any time she needs to.
I must read that link now.
My mom had a miscarriage before I was born. I was always a little haunted by that because I would not be here today if she had not had that miscarriage. My grandmother miscarried a boy when my mom was a child and I have always wondered about that uncle.
I have never had a miscarriage, but I never took my two pregnancies for granted. With my son, I certainly didn’t relax until he was actually born, although I did breathe a little easier when I hit 28 weeks since I knew the chances of survival were greater and greater after that point. However, Marilyn’s story haunted me through my most recent pregnancy.
Not sure what else to say. The problem is that if a person says nothing to a friend when they have had a miscarriage, then they are not caring enough. But from reading these comments and posts, it makes me scared to say anything at all because my comments could be viewed as trite as perceived by the someone who suffered the loss. And I would never know that I had offended.
I remember with myself (it’s been so long now)… that I wasn’t happy either way. If someone tried to give me “words of comfort”… they weren’t quite right, but if they chose to say nothing, I hurt to, because my pain wasn’t acknowledged. To me, a loss is a loss, whether it’s at 8 weeks or full term. The moment you know you’re pregnant, you have plans for your baby… perhaps even a name (or two). You start thinking about what your baby will look like. Physically it may be a little different, but emotionally… it’s a loss.
I guess what really irritates me are those that take pregnancy for granted. Those that need to “PLAN” every moment of their life, perhaps waiting until almost 40 for a first child. Sure, I understand the importance of a career and financial stability… but I also understand how there are NO guarantees in pregancy. It took 7 years for my first miracle after losing two in my 2nd trimester… and then another 13 years for my 2nd miracle (at 41) and all I could do was thank God that I didn’t wait until I was almost 40 before I started trying the first time!
Thanks for the article!
You are amazing.
Thanks for sharing this. Seriously.
While I haven’t experienced *that many* miscarriages (only two), I also find myself jaded. Mostly when someone who is 2 days along in their pregnancy announces it from the rooftops. I’m always like “dude, you’re gonna miscarry! Be careful who you tell!” Oh yes, so jaded.
But that is me.
I haven’t read the article you linked to. I’ll do that today. When I am alone, because I know I’ll cry.
You are stronger then I am. I tend to not think about the babies I lost. I’m like Scarlett O’Hara….I’ll think about it another day. Healthy? NO!
I think you said it just right.
Hi Zoot, thanks for the post. I just miscarried my twins last week at 19 weeks. It was the worst day of my life.
I know that when I do get pregnant again I’ll feel like canape (above) - I’ll believe it when I see it. I can’t even imagine how anyone gets through a second pregnancy after having a late miscarriage - it seems like torture to me, yet I want a baby, so I guess I’ll be trying before too long.