There seems to be a stigma attached to confessing that you “lost it”. When it happens, you start to ask yourself questions like: “What’s wrong with me? Why can’t my body carry a baby?” Perhaps you even start to doubt whether you’ll ever bear a child. Nikki Temkin writes about her experience.
Miscarriage is often a silent grief. It’s feels like almost an embarrassment to admit to having a miscarriage. Or three. It was only when I experienced my first one (and since then three more) that I realised how many women there are who have gone through this kind of loss. They simply crawl out of the woodwork.
The truth is that Miscarriage is so common that it’s almost like a rite of passage for anyone wanting to have a child. Yet, and let me be clear here: the fact that it is common does not make it any less painful. It’s a loss of a vision of the future, the sudden disappearance of a longing hope and a deep wish.
No matter whether you lose the baby in the early stages, or at 6 months, it’s still a terrible disappointment which needs to be mourned. Also remember that during a miscarriage or even after the fetus dies, a woman may still feel and look pregnant for a while as the pregnancy hormone may still be present in her body.
My first miscarriage was a huge shock, a loss of innocence. Although I knew that one in three first pregnancies result in miscarriage, I never thought it would happen to me. Even with my fertility issues (PCOS, Hashimotos), I assumed I was innocuous. The terrible shock of having your ultimate joy converted to horror when you start to bleed cannot be underestimated.
At about 7 weeks, I started to spot. The doctor detected a faint heartbeat, diagnosed a threatened miscarriage and told me to rest and come back in two days for a scan. I continued to bleed slightly and by the fourth scan and multiple blood tests week or so later, the heartbeat had gone. Since the fetus didn’t seem to want to expel on its own, I had a D&C. I remember waking up sobbing. My memory of that horrible day was waking up from the anesthetic still on the operating table, a kind nurse holding my hand saying, “it’s OK, you can cry.”
The worst part was going from feeling and being pregnant in to not being pregnant anymore within a day. I felt completely bereft and was very down about it for a long time afterwards. It encouraged me to seek help at the Vitalab so that I could be properly monitored in the hope that it would never happen to me again.
The second miscarriage a few years later happened on fertility treatment, after I’d given birth to my first daughter. That it happened then made it worse because of the time and money spent on falling pregnant in the first place. This time, at about 7 weeks, I felt my pregnancy symptoms begin to dissipate and suspecting that all was not well went for blood tests. It didn’t bode well.
The doctor scanned and diagnosed a blighted ovum, which meant that the gestational sac was empty because the embryo hadn’t developed properly. He didn’t want to do another D&C so he gave me some medication to expel it. It didn’t work and a week later I had more medication suppositories inserted. Ten days of bed rest and painkillers later, I eventually passed a gestational sac. The time in bed gave me the opportunity to mourn. And with a child, you don’t really have time to feel sorry for yourself; you must pull yourself together. I also recovered more quickly this time because I have a child and I know my body can do it. Still, it was a pretty awful experience, as any miscarriage is.
Check out: What it’s like to be pregnant again after miscarriage
What not to say or do when someone has a miscarriage:
Sometimes even close friends and family don’t know how to respond when you’ve had a miscarriage. As in other situations of trauma, people just don’t always know how to behave. Often the most well-intentioned comments can make you feel worse or angry or even unsupported.
But really, unless you’ve sat in bed for a week waiting for your dead fetus to be expelled or gone for your 6-week scan to find that there’s no heartbeat, then you don’t really know how it feels. You don’t need to step on eggshells around your friend, yet it’s a fragile time for someone. So, I’ve put together some pointers, in my opinion, of some things not to say or do when someone has a miscarriage.
Also read: My third chance at parenthood after 2 miscarriages
What not to do:
- If the person lets you know what happened firsthand, always acknowledge the loss. A good thing to say is: “I am so sorry. I am thinking of you and am here if you need anything.”
- Pretending that it never happened is one of the worst things you can do.
- Never say: “Oh well, you can always try again.” Yes, that’s usually true but this statement minimises the loss that the person has suffered. Plus, if they conceived on fertility treatment, it really isn’t that simplistic as just trying again.
- Avoid saying, “Oh, it’s so common!” Reiterating how common it is too soon after the miscarriage seems to minimise the loss. This is especially insensitive if the person suffers from fertility issues.
- Never say, “at least it wasn’t far along yet/ not a proper baby yet.” For her, whatever stage of development it may be in from embryo to foetus, it hurts that it’s gone.
- Avoid saying, “There was probably something wrong with it/ wouldn’t you rather have a miscarriage than have a disabled child?” This may be true, but she doesn’t need to hear it now. Although intellectually she might be comforted by the notion that it’s for the best, it still hurts like hell. And, for some women who have been trying for years to conceive, perhaps they’d rather take their chances at having an “imperfect” child rather than never becoming a parent at all.
- Say anything about it being “God’s will” or “Divine intervention.” Unless the person is deeply religious, it’s just an annoying thing to say.
- A gentle reminder like:” Well, at least you have one child,” If that’s the case, can be helpful but maybe not right after the miscarriage. Wanting something that eludes you is painful and no matter how many children you have, miscarriage is still unpleasant.
Visit: Recurrent miscarriages- testing for causes
What to do:
- Drop off or send a bunch of flowers, or some food, with a note saying: “I am so sorry to hear of your loss. Thinking of you.” Even if she doesn’t want to see you yet or talk about it, she’ll appreciate the gesture.
- If your friend withdraws, then it is still safe to send them SMS’s or leave messages of support like: “I know you’re not up to talking yet or socialising, but when you’re ready, I am here.” Even if she wants to be alone right now, it will make them feel better to know that you’re out there thinking of them. Don’t force her to talk about. She will, when she’s ready.
- Keep checking in with her even if she doesn’t reply.
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