I have learned here is no way to understand the heartbreak of miscarriage if you have not experienced such a loss firsthand. I have known women who have had miscarriages, and I rather fear that my responses were sub-par.
I’ve received a few responses this week: some people have been fantastic, and others have been slightly disappointing. I have done my best to take these comments in the well-meaning vein in which they were intended.
But if you are trying to support a couple who has just miscarried or lost a child before birth, based on my short experience so far, here’s a list of my suggestions for what not to say and what you can say/do instead. I’ve also compiled a list of helpful links at the bottom of this post.
1. At least you know you can get pregnant.
It is universally agreed by miscarriage survivors and counsellors alike that this is not a helpful thing to say and yet is one of the most repeated pieces of “wisdom” given. (I’ve been told this at least ten times in the past 5 days.) It may be true but, damn, it’s a small comfort. See, there are no guarantees: Just because I got pregnant last time doesn’t mean that I will next time, or that it will happen easily. Nor does it mean I will be able to carry a baby to term. Plus, if I am lucky enough to get pregnant again, I imagine I will be so worried All The Time. I’m really trying not to worry about the future, so when people say that to me, it diminishes what I am currently feeling right now.
→ Give me a hug instead.
2. You will just have to try again / You can have another.
Please don’t tell me what I should do months from now. Before I can even think about trying to conceive again, I have to finish my miscarriage (which hasn’t even started yet), which could take 2-3 weeks. Then I have to wait for my period to return, which could take 6.5 weeks. (If it doesn’t come back in that time, I will need more tests, adding to the delay.) All this and only then will I be able to start tracking my Basal Body Temperature every morning in the hopes that I will conceive a couple of weeks later. Right now, all this feels like a very, very long time.
→ It’s okay that you don’t know what to say. You can say that!
3. Saying nothing or next-to-nothing.
Not calling / emailing me has been one of the most upsetting reactions. If I told you about my pregnancy, I emailed you about my loss, so I really hope to get a response from you. I hope I mean enough to you that you can take a few minutes out of your day to show me you are thinking of me. I know people are busy with their lives, but not saying something or dashing off something with no real thought behind it like “Hugs to you x” does not show me you care. It makes me feel like you can’t be bothered or that I have inconvenienced you and/or am selfish for interrupting your day.
→ I don’t expect you to have all the answers. Just tell me how sorry you are.
4. Showing me pictures of your baby / talking about what a handful your kids are / complaining about what hard work parenthood is.
Right now every pregnant belly I pass, every child I see, and every picture you post of your kid (especially when you keep tagging me in them) is a painful reminder of everything I have just lost. I’m not jealous (I don’t want your pregnant belly or your kid), just envious (I wish I had my own). I don’t expect you to understand my envy, but please try to respect it. I already feel like a terrible person for feeling this way. As for complaining about your pregnancy symptoms or misbehaving kid, please remember that I wish I were dealing with those complaints instead.
→ Give me time and space. I want to be happy for you, but I would appreciate your patience on this one.
5. At least you found out at this early stage.
Very true. Actually, one of the things that has been frustrating is that so many books on miscarriage are focused on having a stillborn child or one who dies soon after birth. My god, I cannot imagine the extent of that heartbreak. But you know what? It’s really not helpful to compare me to a woman who has lost a child she was carrying much longer. My loss and disappointment feels very real to me and my heart is broken. Author Stephanie Paige Cole put it well: She wasn’t just expecting a baby. She was expecting the rest of their lives together.
→ Tell me you love me instead.
6. Let me know if there’s anything I can do.
Years ago I read in some magazine like Marie Claire or Real Simple that when someone is going through a tough time (I think the example was breast cancer), this response, though well-meant, is a bit of a cop-out. There’s nothing you can “do”. If only it were that easy, I’d be on the phone in a second. Non-specific offers of kind help won’t get me on the phone: right now, I might not know I need something until you suggest it.
→ Offer to go for a walk or take me out for coffee or dessert. If you live nearby, you could bring over a simple meal, like soup, or offer to do a load of laundry. If you live far away, you could send a card or little care package.
7. Emailing / calling / texting only once.
This is an experience that I will never forget, so please remember that I am grieving and that grief is a process without a timeline. I would appreciate it if you would check in with me every now and then. It doesn’t have to be often, and when you do, it doesn’t have to be all doom and gloom. Some of the things that have brightened my dark days this week have been voicemail messages and emails from people letting me know they are thinking of me. It’s lonely out here.
→ Even if I don’t return your calls, your messages are a source of comfort. Please keep sending them.
8. It’s for the best / It wasn’t meant to be / It’s God’s plan.
How do you know any of this? I assume you’re referring to the fact that my little bean had a chromosomal defect that couldn’t sustain life. The way I take this is: why is it for the best that s/he even had such a defect to begin with? If it wasn’t meant to be, why did I get pregnant in the first place? And, as I am not religious, please understand that I do not take comfort in your God and the plans you believe he has for me and my family.
→ Say that you are keeping us in your thoughts. If you are religious, let me know we’re in your prayers. Even if I don’t share your beliefs, I do appreciate your prayers.
9. Forgetting that miscarriage affects dads and partners too.
Some of the most touching responses to our loss have been the ones that included my DH in the message of sympathy. He may not have to go through the experience of delivering the fetus, but he has suffered a shocking loss too.
→ Be sure to include dad or (as in the case of gay & lesbian couples) the other mum or dad in your message of sympathy.
10. If only Eve hadn’t tempted Adam with the apple then women wouldn’t have to put up with the trials of pregnancy and childbirth.
This was written to me by a well-meaning family member — who happens to be an atheist no less — but it probably wasn’t the best response… DH and I didn’t take it too seriously, but when thinking about what to put for #10, I decided to include this one: DO NOT MAKE JOKES.
→ Pick any other item from this list. Even blurting out one of the no-nos is probably better than making a joke.
As I said, I do not proclaim that my feelings are universal, and can only write from my own experience. If you want more general advice on what to say, here are some links you might find helpful:
Glow in the Woods: How to Help a Friend
Faces of Loss: 10 Ways to Support the Person in Your Life Who Has Just Lost a Baby
Mom at Last: Ten Things You Should Never Say to a Miscarriage Survivor
Baby Loss Comfort: What Do I Say?
What would you add to the list? Do you have a piece of advice or a link you’d like to share?
This is such a great and comprehensive list. The one thing I would add from my experience is ‘remember my would have been due date’. I’m not one to fish for compliments or to draw attention to myself, but I had mentioned the upcoming date to a few close friend and co-workers as it was approaching. Not a text or an email. No one paid any notice, which makes you feel that you’re grieving an abstract concept as your pain is invisible to the rest of the world. Had my pregnancy gone to term, I would have been showered with cards, balloons, flowers, etc, but I needed to support more on the day when it didn’t happen.
Jane, I think this is a really good point to add to this list. When I first compiled it, I was in the early stages of grief and trying to figure out what I needed. As I write this, three weeks before my undue date, I realise I’m hoping that a couple of people in my life (no one in particular) might remember that October 5th will be significant to me. You’re right, a lot of us need support on that day whether or not we bring home a baby. I am sorry for your loss, comrade x
P.S. apologies for the delay in responding. It’s been a crazy few weeks between being told I need IVF and my grandmother dying.
Thank you so much for this information, it is really helpful. I am getting ready to do a blog post on my journey to become pregnant, and would love to use this as a link for that post, if you wouldn ‘t mind. I just suffered a miscarriage, and think that a lot of people are ashamed of talking about miscarriages and having trouble concieving. I think it is important to spread the word that it is ok, and nothing to be ashamed of.
Thanks
Hi Renee,
I’m sorry for your loss and hope this next time you end up with a baby in your arms!
Of course you are welcome to link back to this article. It would be great if you would just refer to On Fecund Thought when you do. And by all means, share your link with us here too :)
Lauren x
I recently suffered a miscarriage at 9 wks and 2 days on March 2, 2013, so many told us that it’s just God’s way of saying it wasn’t time and that we could always try again. Too bad those weren’t the responses I was looking for. Worst thing was 3 days after my d&c, a supposed friend texted to tell me she was pregnant and due only 10 days after when we were, knowing that I was home healing. I’m alright around others that are expecting, but she still seems to rub me wrong and I find it too hard to be close to her. However, this blog has helped me a great deal. Thank you…
Oh, Alaina, I’m so sorry for your loss and that others haven’t given you the kind of support you would like. I know how that feels. I’m also sorry that your friend shared her good news in such an insensitive manner. I have a friend who broke the news to me gently, and I was pleased for her and touched by her sensitivity. I think it really does matter how we are told, doesn’t it?
Thanks for reading the blog, I’m glad you’re finding it helpful. Feel free to share your story on the Who Are You? page.
Lauren xo
What a great post :)
I am guilty of the second one in some ways, but that is because most the ladies I have met have been trying again, or on the road to starting. Just like you most likely will at some point.
And I will point out, your next pregnancy will be fraught with worry. You will symptom spot. You will panic when (although normal) your sickness subsides. You will not be alone in that though!
And I really do hate the ‘at least you know you can get pregnant’. Myself and OH were on the verge of giving up trying. Yes, we were getting pregnant, but our babies weren’t sticking around to say hello! That has changed for us, though my OH does tell me he is so scared that we will lose our baby during birth. The reality of loss scares the hell out of the men too! I really feel for him, and I try to hide any concerns I may have from him. Our poor blokes.
Good luck to you and your DH. I hope your future has no more sadness in it. xx
I know! Our poor blokes. I think it was very distressing from my DH to see me writhing in so much pain, because there was nothing he could do to alleviate my suffering.
I am glad you and OH kept going, and I hope your pregnancy and delivery is smooth and everything you hoped it could be. xx
Lauren,
It’s hard to read these – what to say , what not to say.- People are well-intentioned but often ignorant. Allow yourself to feel your emotions, you and your hubby are grieving a terrible loss. warm hugs for both of you,
Shirl xoxo
Thanks for accepting the wide range of emotions! Warm hugs to you too xx
Oh, Lauren. Just found out about your miscarriage from Facebook, after having been off-line and out of touch for most of the past two years. I am so sorry to hear this sad news. I will call you. We’ve been playing phone tag for months, and it’s my turn.
Big love x
The most insensitive thing a friend said to me was ‘well at least you have already got one’. Yes I was very fortunate to have one beautiful healthy child but that did not diminish the anguish and grief I felt at losing my second baby. We kept my second miscarriage very private to avoid hearing the unintentionally hurtful comments from people who were not able to empathise. I did however talk to others who had lost – the sisters of this terrible club we are now members of – and was greatly comforted and reassured by them. I hope your eloquent and compelling blog is helping you through your own grief, but thanks to you for writing it as it brings us all together and means that even during our darkest moments we know we are not alone in our despair. I wish you all the strength in the world to get through this time x
I think you hit the nail on the head, Rosie: it doesn’t matter how far along you are or how many children you already have, when you lose a pregnancy, you lose a baby. Just because it wasn’t a “proper baby” (ugh!) to others doesn’t mean it wasn’t to you. When you lose a pregnancy, you lose all your dreams and hopes for that little one. It’s hard to describe.
I’m glad you are gaining something from this blog. I am finding it healing in so many ways — not just by permitting myself to be honest about my feelings and experience, but also by connecting with others, like you.
Thank you for your kind words and wishes, and for being part of the connection.
Much love and strength to you too,
Lauren xx
Lauren, I’m so sorry for your loss. I can’t begin to imagine what you must feel at this point. My heart is breaking for you. What else can I say? I will keep you in my thoughts and prayers.
Arlene
Thank you, Arlene. I appreciate your taking the time to visit x
I read your blog with great personal interest. I knew it would not be straightforward. These things, when they occur (and they ALWAYS occur unexpectedly), strike deeper than we imagine. Once the “practical” side of the tragedy has played itself out, one is left with one’s Imagination. That faculty that allows us to trawl through our feelings and reactions and to dredge up every possible scenario with which to punish or comfort ourselves depending on our mood and attitude. This emotional dredging can stir up too many feelings sometimes and become overwhelming. Don’t be overwhelmed; accept that the emotions you now feel, ALL of them, are part of a natural process. Embrace them if you can. Love them even. Wait for the silt that clouds the river to settle once again and when the water is once again clear and bright, only then will you know who you are and what your true feelings are. PAX I AMOR.
Thank you, Tatko, for accepting the full range of my emotions. I love the imagery. Love you xx
I had a friend who asked me, “You don’t compare this to the loss of a real child, do you?” just a few days after my miscarriage. I can’t imagine what made her feel that was an appropriate question to ask me at that early date. Since I don’t have any children, I couldn’t possibly compare the pain, but why should I have to, and why should she? My best advice would be to at least think about your words before you say them. Most of the responses you noted were ones I received, too, and while they were, as you said, disappointing and sometimes even hurtful, I knew that people were at least attempting to be comforting. I couldn’t say the same for my friend’s question.
Hello Rebecca,
What a terrible thing to say! I am sure your baby was a very real child to you. If someone said that to me now, I think I might punch them. You’re so right, it is unhelpful to compare losses. There is always someone worse off, but being told that only belittle our feelings and makes us feel guilty for having them. That is not conducive to the healing process!
Welcome to this little corner of the Internet. In just 4 days I have met some incredible women who have found me and shared their story. I’m glad you found us.
Much love to you,
Lauren x
What a great idea to put this out there–it’s amazing how we often simply don’t know how to be truly of comfort, so we say and do stupid things that are well-meant but totally off the mark.
A big huge hug!
Thank you, Jolly. It does seem as though miscarriage is shrouded in secrecy. I’ve noticed that there is a British campaign going on right now which is trying to encourage people to talk about their experience. Eventually, I might associate my real name with this blog, but for now I feel too vulnerable.
As for people’s responses, I am trying to take them in the spirit in which they were intended. I can even laugh a bit about #10 now! After all, if I am disappointed by people’s responses, it’s because my expectations were too high. People can only do what they can do. Still, on reflection, I think silence is worst. (I emailed a friend of mine 4 days ago to ask her for her thoughts on miscarriage. She had one before her daughter was born, and she’s a therapist, so I thought she would be a good person to ask. Still haven’t heard from her, and that hurts a little.)