October is pregnancy and infant loss awareness month, which got me thinking about how to honor and support women who have experienced the loss of a child.
Did you know there are so many of us who have this in common? An estimated 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage. I lost my first baby at 6 weeks pregnant, and it was excruciating— but, my silver lining is the sisterhood of empathy and compassion for others who have lost their babies that grew from my experience.
Dear reader— I don’t know who you are, but I hope that by sharing a part of my story and the 5 truths that I’ve learned along the way, you will feel supported and a little less alone on this journey
1. There’s no right way to grieve.
Most of us have an idea of how we think we “should” grieve—this idea is constructed from pieces of information from society, our families of origin, and the media about the grief process. But truly there are no “should’s” in grieving. It’s different for everyone and every situation—and that is OK! That being said, this post is limited to my experience and the stories that other women have shared with me.
One of the big things I grappled with after my miscarriage was thinking that I should have been “back to normal” after a few months. I told myself “you’re resilient, you’re a therapist damn it, you should be coping better by now!”—but that didn’t fit for me. And, after hearing from many women who have suffered through similar experiences, that timeline doesn’t fit for them either. Your grief probably won’t follow a timeline— it will ebb and flow, and never completely disappear. You will likely encounter triggers, such as the baby aisle at the store or seeing other pregnant women, that will throw you right back into your grief. That’s OK– give yourself permission to grieve however and whenever.
2. Your grief is real and valid.
Pregnancy loss hurts, it can be emotionally devastating. However, it is a different process than the usual way of grieving the death of a loved one—there may not be a funeral, many people in your life may not know about it, and there may not be any physical, touchable, visible being to let go of. I remember wondering coldly “what did I really lose? It’s not like I ever met this baby”, but my sense of loss ran so deep— it didn’t seem to fit.
When you lose a baby during pregnancy, there are many layers of loss. You didn’t just lose the baby you were carrying inside you—you lose all the hopes, dreams, and plans you had for that child. Give each of those layers the grief it deserves—the milestones you and your child will never have, the relationships that your loved ones won’t get to enjoy with your child, the feeling of holding that child in your arms for the first time. It makes sense to be grieving, you lost more than others might see on the surface.
I was pregnant during New Year’s Eve, which is always a time of introspection and looking forward for me. I remember sitting with my husband on our couch and envisioning this next year—the year our family of 2 becomes a family of 3. I imagined every event, every holiday, and how our lives were about to change so drastically with the addition of a baby. Eleven days into the new year, I miscarried—and grieving the loss of those hopes and dreams I was envisioning so clearly on New Year’s Eve was one of the hardest parts of my experience.
3. You don’t have to do this alone.
This is a great time to use all your resources—friends, family, pets, everyone who supports and loves you. I think many women tend to default to trying to “go it alone” when things get hard, but know that you don’t have to. Simply talking to others can be one of the best healers! If you have friends or family members who have lost a child, they are invaluable resources for you—they get it. It’s important to let at least a few trusted people really see you and sit with you in your pain.
A word of caution—it can be difficult for your loved ones to know how to best support you during this time. You may have to tell people how you want to be cared for and what you need from them– whether that is a distraction, a listening ear, or a shoulder to cry on.
This may also be a good time to seek out an experienced counselor or look for a pregnancy loss support group in your local area. I’ve found that there is a wonderfully supportive community of angel baby moms out there if you know where to look for it. If going to a physical support group isn’t your style or isn’t available locally, check out the countless online communities via forums, blogs, facebook groups, etc. A quick google search for miscarriage support groups should get you going in the right direction.
Give yourself permission to seek support in whatever way feels best for you.
4. It isn’t your fault.
Miscarriage tends to have a lot of shame attached to it. I think that’s part of why we don’t talk about it much, even though it affects so many of us. There’s a perception of “I did something wrong” or “my body failed my baby” that fuels self-shaming. The biological nature of reproduction and carrying a child is so primitively wired into our bodies, that we feel broken and just wrong when we lose a pregnancy. I think the medical community is good at sharing this truth– that miscarriages are not the mother’s fault, and are usually a random chromosomal blah, blah, blah… But do we believe it? I didn’t at first. Part of my bargaining process was “what did I do to deserve this?” Simply put, this line of thinking does not serve you. It isn’t helpful. I don’t care what you did or didn’t do, whether your pregnancy was planned or not planned—you did not do a single thing to deserve this. Period– end of story. It may take some time to sink in—but hold that truth in your heart and carry your story without a drop of shame.
5. You will smile again.
Yes, your grief is real. Yes, your loss is excruciatingly painful. It may stick around for a while and come back to haunt you later. But, you will also feel joy again. You will love life again, and laugh with your partner again, and I promise you won’t lose the capacity for true happiness.
I distinctly remember the moment when I really felt good again. I was out dancing with my husband, and something clicked– I was filled with joy and gratitude to be just having fun with him. We felt like “us” again, and I remembered that our life is pretty darn great with just us and losing our baby didn’t take that away. This was about 3 months post-miscarriage.
Until you naturally feel like smiling again, gratitude is your new best friend on this journey of healing. It’s too easy to get caught up in all the bad and forget about all the good. Keeping an ongoing gratitude list can be helpful to keep a balanced perspective.
I don’t think I’ll ever go “back to normal” the way I originally thought I should, and you may not either—but eventually your new normal can be pretty great.
With gratitude,
Nicole
“Babies who are taken too soon were never touched by fear. They never knew sadness, never felt alone, and most importantly always knew love.”
-author unknown