It was a crazy thing. The four days I spent in the hospital in labor with Ethan were so surreal and dismal, with so much intense medical care, that I wanted to be far away from that place. But when they wheeled me out on discharge day and I saw life bustling around and felt the sun beaming down on me, I wanted to go back in and hide. I didn’t feel ready to face the world. What was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to say to everybody? What were they going to be thinking when they looked at me now?
Those first several days at home I didn’t really want to “talk” to anybody. I was completely drained emotionally and felt like I had to learn how to be around people again. It was about a month before Brian and I left the house to socialize with extended family for the first time. It was his dad’s birthday and his family was celebrating at a restaurant in downtown Detroit. I still didn’t feel quite ready to face the world but I knew I would have to at some point sooner or later. So we went. I was so nervous. It was so hard. What if I started spontaneously crying if I heard or saw a baby? Was I supposed to be “honest” if someone asked me how I was doing? Or was I supposed to try my best to “keep it together”?
Like I said, it was hard. Especially initially and especially hearing certain things…
1. “It’s more common than you think.”
More times than I wanted to hear, people haphazardly offered stories of miscarriages in an attempt to “relate” or show commonality, or display some kind of “understanding.” I remember someone casually said to me (after hearing about Ethan), “Yeah my mom had 3 miscarriages…” Sometimes I was such in a twilight zone that people’s words about pregnancy loss or their personal stories went in one ear and out the other.
There were times though that I was irritated and angry at the obliviousness of not wanting my situation compared to someone else’s. Sometimes, I wanted to respond, “I spent 8 months falling in love and bonding and I just buried my beautiful, perfectly healthy looking five-pound baby boy. I’m sincerely sorry your family member experienced this misfortune but I don’t want to hear about it right now. I am still having trouble processing my own loss.”
I feel a little worry in admitting these were my thoughts (for fear of sounding unsympathetic), but in the name of transparency, that’s just how I felt.
I heard things like, “Pregnancy loss is pretty common…” or, “It’s more common than you think…” Thanks, but telling me my tragedy is common doesn’t make it easier for me to accept. There is no comfort from hearing that. If anything, when people say this to me it makes me feel like they are depreciating my experience.
2. “It just wasn’t his time to be here.”
I have heard this more than a few times. I never understand it or know how to take it. What is my response supposed to be?
3. “You know everything happens for a reason.”
I am a Christian. I’m pretty familiar with certain “well quoted” bible verses (i.e. Ecclesiastes 3:1, Romans 8:28), but for several months I was so detached from everything (including religion) that hearing things like “everything happens for a reason” was nothing but an empty cliché to me. When we were in counseling I remember saying to my Pastor, “I’ve always loved God…. but I have never felt so disconnected from my faith as I do now.” His response was, “That’s because you have never been through something as tragic as this.”
Hearing about “God’s plan” and “God’s timing” helped little, if at all. I didn’t even want to comprehend any of that initially. I think one of the things I really appreciated was that my Pastor was able to reignite a small flame of hope simply by being humanistic. After we shared everything with him, down to our birth control method before pregnancy, the thing that was most comforting was him frankly saying , “I don’t know why this happened…” and letting us know that he loved us and was praying for us.
There was no blame, no empty religious clichés, just honesty.
4. Silence.
There were some people who said nothing to me. There were no words of condolences, offer of prayers, no acts of kindness, no acknowledgement at all. This mostly came off worst then people saying #1-3. Losing Ethan changed my entire world. Not acknowledging that put certain people in a new category for me. I’ll leave that at that.
I hope my frankness in this post is not offensive. Sharing the journey of my loss is still not the easiest for me. I know that some people who said some of these things may have felt helpless and were just trying to offer something. I could see that and at least appreciate the intent and the effort.
Pregnancy loss is extremely difficult and everyone copes differently. From my experience though, love is a good universal response and is pretty much always appropriate. If ever in doubt with what to say or do, go with love.
Photo credit: Timothy Blanks
If you haven’t read my story….2 days that changed my life
This is all so true, from the total silence as if I was some type of contagious disease, to people saying to me, when we did conceive again, well make sure you take care of this one, as if I’d done something to hurt our own son…co workers saying well maybe he wasn’t meant to be here, and the list goes on, and yes a miscarriage is a type of loss that still hurts, but your right don’t compare my loss, when in doubt just love, oh n less is more meaning all the stuff ppl say and quote, the less you say might actually be best when uncertain. People try and honestly they don’t know what to say, but still just love me through this
Shaie, thanks so much for adding to this!!!❤❤❤❤❤❤ You have been an amazing source of strength for me! Love you!!!
I continue to appreciate your transparency and honesty. Many people will never understand the loss of a baby if they’ve never walked that road. I share many of the same feelings you had. And I remember the first time I had to face people and having similar feelings. It’s true healing I believe when you’ve experienced something so traumatic and you’re able to reflect, offer insight, and help someone else in those same shoes, and those who need to know how to properly address someone in this type of situation. Love you my sister 😘❤️❤️ And hoping on my next trip to Detroit I can see you and our babies meet each other 💙 God is faithful and a true redeemer!
Janicca, you know this means EVERYTHING coming from you!!! You were one of the first people whose love began to lift me out of my slump. I will NEVER forget that. I love you dearly and definitely would like to see you and the babies next time you are in Detroit! XOXOXO
The silence is awful and I’ve severed relationships over it. I understand that people just don’t know what to say, but if you can’t be present for me at a time like that, I’ve got no energy for you. What’s worse is the “Just try again. You’ll have another.” Children are not replaceable. I’ve had 3 additional blessings, but they’re not Daniel. Continue to share your story. While it feels like people are trying to minimize your experience when they tell you it’s common, I actually found it helped to know that I wasn’t alone. It helped to know that the emptiness would diminish and that I wasn’t broken. I searched every blog and comment section that I could for stories like mine and yours. It helped. It still helps, so thank you for sharing♥
Jazmen……❤️❤️❤️…thank you, thank you, thank you for writing this!!!! This means so so much…
This is a great read and all points are so true ! For me after having years of IVF, I didn’t want to hear don’t worry God will bless you . But I got all of 1-4 too. Very good read
Thank you so much Alicia!!! I was so nervous to share this post. But reading comments like yours means EVERYTHING! Thank you!!❤❤