If a close friend of yours came to you and said, “I’m going through something really difficult and I could use a friend”, what would you do? You’d drop everything to be there for them right? So why then, don’t we allow people to do the same for us? I didn’t know how to talk about miscarriages when I had mine. My fear of making people uncomfortable was overwhelming. And I was nervous to be honest about the thoughts I was having.
Is It Better To Carry the Burden Alone?
Before I had a miscarriage, I wouldn’t have known what was comforting to say to someone, so how could I expect someone else to? I told myself that it was easier to deal with my feelings on my own than to admit to anyone what I really needed.
But how does anyone know how to talk about miscarriages if no one talks about them? If we decide that the burden is ours to carry alone, instead of being honest about what we need to (and not need to) hear, then we rob ourselves of the chance to be supported.
I never learned to say the things I need to at the time. It took me a year to start writing about my miscarriages. When I finally got the strength to give my story a voice, it was for two reasons…
1: I wanted women who’ve had or will have a miscarriage to feel seen and less alone.
2: I wanted the rest of the world to know how to better support their friends, wives, sisters and daughters.
An Experience Like No Other
To experience the loss of your child within your own body is unlike any other. I felt a terrifying amount of physical pain that was accompanied by guilt, shame, and uncertainty. In the darkest moments of grief I’ve gotten so angry at my body. It was supposed to be the safest place for my baby. To say those words while sobbing to someone who has never experienced a miscarriage would be incredibly difficult. I myself never did. I’ve never said the most difficult and painful thoughts that still creep through my mind a year later. Not out loud anyway. How could anyone possibly understand those thoughts? These are the things I’ve told myself to avoid having to talk about miscarriages with anyone in the past.
The pain of a miscarriage is incredibly lonely. It feels strangely specific to you, another reason why I convinced myself that no one would understand. If I could go back in time and give myself some advice, I would tell myself to feel safe saying at least these few things…
-Will you go to my doctors appointment with me?
-I’m feeling really lonely, are you free sometime today for coffee?
-I really need to be alone and cry, could you watch my son for a bit?
-It’s really hurtful to hear people say things like…the good new is or at least______
-It’s been really nice when people text or call to let me know they’re thinking of me or praying for me. It helps me feel less alone.
Find Your People
If you’re in the midst of your own miscarriage, I am deeply sorry for your loss. It’s SO much easier for me to say this than it was to implement it. But I would encourage you to pick just a few people that you can be really honest with. Sit them down and tell them the position you’d like them to take during this process. I promise you, they’ll be honored. I can promise that because we both know that’s how you’d feel if the tables were turned. I’m proud of you.
