Why Miscarriage Sucks

Just about a year ago, I had my third miscarriage in a row.* I know that many women have had more than I have. I won't say that my situation or my sorrow are worse than anyone else's. I won't say they're better either. Frankly, it sucks any way you look at it. Ladies and gentleman, can we agree? Miscarriage sucks! And I could use a lot of other words in regards to it but I won't. If you've had one or more miscarriages, you will understand all that I say and more. If you've never had one, please allow me to tell you. You'll be able to show empathy for others. You might learn what not to do. Here we go.

How You Feel

As soon as you find out you're miscarrying, you are no longer pregnant. You'll still feel sick, you still get emotional for no reason, you're still exhausted and you're still fat. (Except, now you'll lose blood and get sicker and more tired and actually have a reason to be emotional.) It's like being pregnant but you're not. You will get all kinds of contractions, similar to labor, and have absolutely nothing to show for it. (You'll actually give birth to a baby, only it'll be dead.) People will ask you how your pregnancy is going and you'll have to decide if it's more painful to tell them you miscarried or to endure their congratulations and personal stories. See my post on coping strategies.

If you find out at a routine doctor visit, he/she may recommend that you wait for a natural miscarriage to occur. You're not pregnant but you haven't miscarried. You're somewhere in between and you get to explain it to... way too many people. Again and again while you wait to miscarry. Or you can get a D&C under general anesthesia. You skip the in-between bit and the doctor uses suction to remove "products of conception".  Miscarriage sucks, literally. (You can also stay awake for the procedure, but if there's a way to make the whole process suck worse, this is it.)


You might feel like you've wasted other people's time. All the friends who brought you juice or a meal because you were feeling sick didn't need to bother after all. You might feel the unfairness of all the fun things you skipped while you felt ill or were busy being careful--and for what? You might as well have taken that cruise or hiking trip to Ireland because then you'd have something happy to look back on. 

You might feel the unfairness of all the sweet babies who were born, only, not to you.

Telling People You Miscarried

While you're UN-announcing the birth of your darling, sweet baby who you've been dreaming about and planning for with the happiest and tenderest thoughts, people might say stupid things to you. Stupid like, "You'll have another baby." (If that reduced pain, people who lost their beloved spouses would feel no regret because they could always marry again.) Stupid like, "You still have your other children." (Yes, I know. So, if one of your friends dies, you're not gonna feel sad because you still have other friends, right?) Stupid like, "You should try not to get so emotionally involved." (What? With my baby? Hellooo! That's not a thing!) Stupid like, "So-and-so's miscarriage was worse." (Are you saying that she loved her baby more that I love mine? Do you know that's a ridiculous position to take?) Or stupid like, "So you had a miscarriage. You don't need to get jealous of people with babies." (Clearly, you have never had a miscarriage.) Or, stupidest of all, "You should stop trying." (That's so worthless that I can't even address it right now.)

With all that discouragement, you might prefer to push people away rather than asking for support. You might even develop a seething rage. It's a good thing some people listen better than they talk. Not everyone will say something dumb. And some people really do understand. You'll know because they help instead of hurt.

Grief And Healing

The first three days are the hardest, and filled with inner conflict. You struggle to comprehend the reality of your situation, without wanting to. You fight through numbness, or embrace it because it beats the pain. You don't want anyone around. You do want some company. You don't want pity. You need some sympathy. You don't want to talk about it. You wish someone would listen.  You feel angry at people for not taking away the pain. You know that they can't. You feel guilty for wanting the pain gone. You feel like you're drowning in sorrow. You don't want to ask for help. What would help anyway? You wish people would understand what you want. You don't know what you want. Yes, you do. You want your baby back. It's a nightmare. You sleep with the light on.


After two weeks, it has noticeably gotten easier. It is by no means easy. You appreciate the help your friends and family give you. Flowers cheer you a little, and you cling to any bit of cheer you can get because you are tired of being sad. You pack your day full of activities, without knowing if you enjoy them. Distracting yourself helps you get through but doesn't help you heal. Eventually, you have to face the pain as you look down at the place where your baby used to be and say, "I really wanted you." Crying actually helps. A lot. Therapy is useful for "getting it out."

A month or so later, everyone seems to have forgotten about it and gone back to their lives. You feel very alone because you're still in pain but don't want to ruin somebody's day by talking about it. People have stopped asking how you are and how they can help. You take the hint and if anyone does happen to casually ask how you are, you say that you're fine. You are a liar. You don't feel fine at all. You just think nobody cares. Not surprisingly, you feel depressed. The hormones don't help.

This is when you really need a support group. This is when you not only feel strong enough to hear others' stories, but need to share your own.

What To Do About It

1. Give yourself time.

 Your feelings are normal. Express your feelings, don't hold them in.You can write it down in a "therapy journal", as my sister the counselor told me. It helps. (Seriously. It's just a private notebook where you write down whatever you feel, without judging yourself for feeling it. Once you're done, you get do decide if your thoughts are really true. If they are, you keep them. If they're not, you replace them with true thoughts. You can do this as often as you like.) You can join an online forum or support group.  You can comment on this blog. I have personally found therapy to be very helpful.

2. Do it.

 Ruin somebody's day. Actually, that's a myth. Your loss can't ruin anybody's day because no one will feel it the same way you do. But they still care.

This line shows how it works.

                                 feeling my pain------------------------------------- not caring

All your friends (and even some strangers,) who know about your experience are going to care. Nobody is going to be anywhere close to not caring. They only show it differently.
     
                                feeling my pain-----------^------------------------- not caring

All your friends are already feeling some of your pain because they love you and they have empathy. Talking to them about it will not cause them to feel more pain. It will allow them to release it by helping you heal. When you feel better, they feel relieved. So go to your nicest friends, the ones best able to help you heal, and talk to them. They might be afraid of making it worse. So tell them what you really need. A listener. A cook. A hug. Somebody to make you laugh really hard. Maybe advice. And if someone gives you advice that's not helpful, TELL them why it's not helpful.

3.Create A Memorial

 I know the feeling of holding onto the pain of loss, because the pain is all you have left of your baby. I learned that it doesn't have to be that way. Writing letters to each one of my babies helped me feel that they were not lost. Or maybe, that I was not lost. Creating a memorial helps you let go. Choosing to remember the good on purpose helps you release the bad. You might write down your feelings about your baby and put it into a special box with ultrasound photos, baby shoes or whatever you wish. You can make a book, light a candle, or write letters to your little one. Any way you choose to celebrate your baby will help you feel less disconnected. There is no time limit. You can start anytime and continue as long or as many times as you wish.

15 Ways To Help A Grieving Parent

1. Spend time with them. They'll talk if they want to.
2. Don't lecture, analyze or give advice unless they ask. 
3. Give gifts
              A. To help with a memorial: A candle, personalized home decor item, a book,or card
              B. Or to just cheer them up: Flowers, a massage, a getaway for two they can use when they want, organic chocolate, fresh fruit, night on the town.
4. Give hugs often.
5. Don't talk about baby shopping, new babies, pregnancy or death unless they bring it up.
6. Don't assume that because they already have children that their pain is somehow less. It's not.
7. Take walks with them. Exercise helps release stress.
8. DO NOT get angry at them for the way they grieve. Everyone grieves differently.
9. PLEASE offer to clean their house and then follow through.
10. Take them out to their favorite restaurant or a botanical garden. Get them out of the house.
11. Offer to babysit. If they say no, offer again in a couple weeks.
12. Be a good listener.
13. Be available.
14. Don't assume they will "get over it" quickly. Grief is a process and can take decades.
15. Be supportive.

We Can Do This

I have good days and bad days. It's not over yet but I know my limits. I won't go to baby showers. I won't watch Up, Marley And Me or any other movie that portrays  miscarriage. I will give baby gifts, hugs and lots of sympathy to anyone who needs it. We can all get through this, especially if we stick together. Believe it. Know it. This isn't over yet. Great times are still coming. And right now great times sound a lot like a Jacuzzi tub and a really good hamburger. Ladies and gentlemen, can we agree? Jacuzzi tubs are awesome! And hamburgers. I am so getting one now.


Edit: A brand-new book about finding hope is coming out February 10, 2015. It is called Little Boy Blue: Finding Hope After Miscarriage. You can read my story and 14 others about grief, healing and finding the light. Proceeds go to charity. Here is the link. http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00S3IZGM8

*Edit:  May 2016, I've now had 6 miscarriages.