Miscarriage. Stillbirth. Please, Don't Shy Away.
Women love to talk about and dissect almost any topic you throw at them. I love that about my gender. We are open and interested and willing to spread our collective knowledge around to help each other.
Yet, there are still a few topics that even we shy away from discussing: Miscarriage and, harder yet, stillbirth.
Lawsy. My heart is pounding and my eyes are wet, but I suggest we tackle the beast and prove to ourselves that this painful vulnerability is worthy of our words.
Who among you knows of a woman who has suffered a miscarriage? If I asked for a show of hands, many of you would offer yours. Maybe you're the woman you know. I know I am.
My story is simple. A year or so before I married I was told by a doc that it would be statistically impossible for me to conceive. Most likely, I would never carry a baby. The news was devastating.
Cut to a week post-honeymoon, sitting in my doctor's office, positive I had picked up a tropical stomach bug, yet being told my pregnancy test came back positive! (I see you counting...)
I was angry and upset; in my jumble of confused emotions, I thought they were teasing me.
Um, yeah, no, you're PREGNANT!
Simply writing the words causes the raw emotion of that pinpointed moment, the unbelievability, the SURPRISE!, the giddy Scoobey-Doo head fake, to come barreling back as a tsunami of gratitude.
I was pregnant! We were having a baby!
We were scared and excited and truly dumbfounded for a few weeks.
Boy was born and we were blessed beyond measure.
Docs can be wrong. For me, my faith told me that if God wanted me to have a child, there was no diagnosis that would stand in the way.
With Boy's birth, we thought we were done. We had our miracle. We were OK with the idea that one was the magic number.
14 years later we were surprised with another pregnancy. WHAT?!
This time, when I was told, I actually came close to passing out at the nurse's station. The pregnancy test that was standard when you're a young woman seeing your gynecologist, the positive results of such a routine don't-think-about-it-just-pee-in-the-cup test, surprised us all in that little room.
I remember blinking hard, my brain trying to process the impossible words spoken, then the room going dark. The nurses sprang into action. Once I could think again...could talk again...I cried and they laughed in joy (and probably in response to my response) .
I WAS PREGNANT... AGAIN!
I can't begin to articulate what I felt. TWO KIDS! A mom of two kiddos. Omgosh, that's gonna be me!
Then, on Thanksgiving day, 14 weeks into the pregnancy, I started spotting. I immediately stopped baking pies and called my doctor. I was told to get off my feet and to keep an eye on things. I had experienced some bleeding and cramping during my first pregnancy, so it wasn't completely worrisome.
I sent my family off to the family feast, reminded them to bring me a plate and laid in bed praying for my sweet baby girl. It was too early to know for sure, but in my heart I felt certain I was carrying a girl, just as I had felt certain Boy was a boy.
As the day progressed, my spotting became more pronounced to actual bleeding. I checked back in with my doctor and from what I relayed, he believed I was miscarrying. He advised me to continue to rest.
Rest? My baby was in peril and I was supposed to rest? For the first time since becoming a mother, there was nothing I could do, but wait. It's a twisted kind of agony to know that the life within you is passing from this world to the next and there is nothing you can do but wait.
I knew the moment my pregnancy ended, and even now, at this very moment, the deep emotion has the power to bend me to almost breaking. My baby girl was gone.
Only days before, we had announced to our family and friends that we were expecting (much to everyone's surprise!) and now we'd have to tell them that I had miscarried, except in language that was less blunt and less painful for them.
But not for me.
For months I grieved silently. I wanted to talk about it, to talk about what I experienced, but I didn't want to make those around me uncomfortable. Life was moving on, but I wasn't, until two amazing things happened. One: a dear friend suggested we name the baby, acknowledging that she was a part of our lives and always would be. Two: another friend suggested a ceremony of letting go, with drums and chants and tearing of cloth (if need be). She suggested we could write down our pain, then burn it in a fire pit and watch as the healing smoke rise to Heaven.
We didn't do either one of these things, but I was so grateful to both of those friends for taking the risk to talk to me about the miscarriage. As I had found out after my miscarriage, everyone was loving and concerned, but no one dared mention it again. I'm sure they didn't want to hurt me by reminding me of my pain,or maybe they didn't know what to say, but I never stopped thinking about it.
Miscarriage is devastating. A death. Who wants to talk about death over coffee and cake? I'll tell you who: every woman who has suffered through one.
As miracles go, we thought we were done with pregnancies. Matter of fact, we had two more, and then two more miscarriages.
Look at these stats:
- An increase in maternal age affects the chances of miscarriage
- Women under the age of 35 yrs old have about a 15% chance of miscarriage
- Women who are 35-45 yrs old have a 20-35% chance of miscarriage
- Women over the age of 45 can have up to a 50% chance of miscarriage
- A woman who has had a previous miscarriage has a 25% chance of having another (only a slightly elevated risk than for someone who has not had a previous miscarriage)
That's a lot of women. A lot of suffering. A lot of love waiting to be expressed.
My prayer, my hope, is simple: Let us not shy away from each other when the subject is miscarriage or stillbirth. Let us embrace our love, our gift, of talking about and sharing our pain, even in the face of extreme discomfort. Hell, especially in the face of that which scares the holy hell out of us and makes our heart ache.
Talking of stillbirth seems even harder to me. I don't know anyone who has experienced it, so I defer to those who have.
Please watch this video I found posted at Sugar and Dots discussing miscarriage and stillbirth. It is heart-wrenching and beautiful.
Someone once said to me: Miracles come from death. Watch, and you'll bear witness.
She was right. My miracles arrived as two friends who pushed past their fear and gave me more than they intended. Their lesson became my action; reach out to those who suffer this silent loss.
Are these tough topics to discuss? A million times, yes. But, we are women; we are warriors. We bring life forward and shape the future.
Whatever you do, please, don't shy away.
Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss, but am so glad that you have reached out and posted this. It's true, even after many years, it is still cathartic to talk about it. I had two miscarriages, both after my second (and last) child was born. The first miscarriage was a complete surprise but I did have a supportive husband and a wonderful friend who helped me through it. My mother never knew my children but I felt that she was looking down from Heaven and enveloping me in a warm hug. When I became pregnant again a year or so later, I didn't mention it to anyone except my husband and my midwife. I wanted to wait and sure enough, five weeks into the pregnancy, I miscarried. Even though it was early on, it was still devastating. These miscarriages were about 25 years ago but they each feel like yesterday.
Not long ago, I told my daughter (who just turned 30 and has given me a beautiful granddaughter) about the miscarriages -- it was wonderful to share those sad times with her. She mourned the loss of those babies along with me that day.
Thank you so much for reaching out to all of us. I have read and cried through each of the comments -- my heart goes out to each and every one of these brave women. It is my belief that the souls of each of these tiny babies are waiting for us in Heaven, and we will meet them then.
I have cried over the comments, too. So much pain and suffering...
I'm also sorry for your losses and like you, I believe they are waiting for us. I love that you opened up to your daughter and that she felt your sorrow. Well done, momma.
Thank you so much for this post. I too suffered three miscarriages, about twenty five years ago. It doesn't matter at what point in pregnancy a miscarriage happens, the grief is very real. The moment you even suspect you are pregnant, you start loving your baby. To have that cruelly taken away from you is devastating, and not having understanding family or friends to talk to makes you feel even more isolated and alone. Miscarriage is a very personal thing, but also something that has to be discussed in order to bring understanding to those who have not experienced it. Many people just don't understand that miscarriage is a real loss. Because they don't actually see a baby, it isn't 'real', and therefore they think the grieving process should be short and quickly forgotten. I remember being told to 'just get over it' and 'it was probably for the best' or 'At least you can try again'. I'm sure most of these things were said with the best intentions, but only made me feel worse because I felt that no one would really even acknowledge my baby, and that I was the only one that cared. I guess what I am trying to say is that we need to educate others how to comfort a grieving mother after a miscarriage. Your post is a welcome step in that direction. Thanks again. Anne
What a beautifully well-said response. Thank you for that and I am so sorry that you know this pain so personally.
Thanks for sharing this post. I am sorry for your losses. My husband and I lost our daughter, Esther Kate, last February. We went in for a routine appointment at 16 weeks (after 3 perfect ultrasounds) and there was no heartbeat. To say we were devastated doesn't even scratch the surface. I was induced and gave birth to my tiny, perfect daughter. Immediately upon birth it was evident that she died from a rare cord accident. We are so thankful for the time we got to spend holding, rocking, loving, and saying goodbye to our little girl. The pain over the last nine months has been more than anything I ever imagined. It. Miscarriage and stillbirth are just not talked about, yet you are exactly right that as a mom who has lost, all I want to do is talk about my baby who died. I started a blog to talk about it for my own processing and to help others understand even just a little. Thanks again for talking about this sensitive, yet very important part of many of our lives.
It was heartbreaking to read your story, Kalyn. I'm so sorry. You are right that this is such a sensitive issue and one that people shy away from because death is a difficult subject in our culture. I'm encouraged by how many have opened their lives and experiences here along with you. May we continue our courageous steps forward and bring this pain into the light of each others love.
Thank you so much for not being silent and for sharing your story. Sad, heartfelt, inspiring! Our stories sound the same in some aspects. I was also told that I would have a slim chance of ever being able to get pregnant. Just a few months after being married to my husband, we found out we were expecting. I ended up with a beautiful baby girl. Then two consecutive miscarriages. As it turned out, I had a clotting condition (two actually)... Once that was discovered steps were able to be taken that allowed me to have my two boys, but sadly yet another loss. It's funny I should read this today because just yesterday...I thought about the babies I have lost. I try not to, but my mind began wandering as I was folding the laundry. I wondered about them. I quickly pushed it out of my mind because often times it is easier to not think about it. You are right though! We as women need to cease with the silence and lift each other up with prayer and support. I'm so glad you had such lovely friends to help you through such a difficult time. If you are curious, here are a few posts where I shared some of my experiences...
Thanks for listening.
Thank you for not only coming here, but for sharing your story. I'm sorry for the losses you suffered. Each telling adds to the whole. Thank you.
Great story, and im sorry to hear about your little girl! After trying for 3 years we got pregnant, I had an ectopic at 9 wks it was the worst day of my life. But it brought us all closer and to this day i never forget about my little bean! Thanks for sharing!
Those little beans rule our hearts, don't they?
I have lost our 1st at 16 weeks, then had my son and 21 months later my daughter, followed by three more miscarriages of which the last was the worst as I knew my baby was dead but had to wait 4 days before they could operate. Thank you for sharing.
Oh, Linda, worse than knowing, must be waiting. I'm so sorry.
I finished reading this and watching the video, and in a snotty tear-soaked mess I hugged my 10 month old son just a little tighter. I haven't lost a child, but my heart absolutely aches in pain at the idea, and I cannot even begin to imagine what others have to brave through that have gone through this themselves. There are just no words. I'm so sorry you have experienced this loss - thank you for sharing, it helps me to know how to be there for others that go through it.
I am so sorry for your loss. I can only say that as time goes on the pain becomes tempered, although never ceasing. I miscarried our third child at 11 weeks and went through a deep period of grief that no one, outside my husband, seemed to understand (of course, women's health issues were hardly mentioned in the early 90s). Then last year, we lost our beloved first born, our daughter Amy at age 28, to a lifelong genetic disorder. It has been devastating beyond belief. To be able to talk about her openly and her life here and the impact she had on so many is a gift that we are often denied. People don't want to talk about death and those who have died tragically. Maybe we can be an instrument of change. May the Lord bless you and yours! I'm visiting from the Clever Chicks Blog Hop.
Women's health issues have come a long way and for that I'm grateful. "Instrument of change" resonated with me...how I pray we all take small steps in that direction.
I am sorry for the loss of your children. I pray that you are able to find a friend to talk with about Amy. We experienced a friend losing their child at an early age, over 20-years-ago, and she is brought up in many conversations. Once a part of us, always a part of us.
This is so beautiful. I have been there, and it is heartbreaking. I talk about it, but your right, other people don't say anything, and I think it's because they are afraid of causing more hurt.
Thanks so much for sharing with Wednesday's Adorned Link Party. Have a great Thanksgiving.
Debi and Charly @ Adorned From Above
I think so, too. I've never blamed anyone for their silence, as I had been guilty of it. My hope is to give courage to those who might otherwise remain silent.
Thank you so much for sharing ... because you are so right we don't share and yet need to grieve. Think I still am now xxx
Thank you for coming by and stopping in to join the conversation.