How To Comfort Someone During a Miscarriage (she: Alicia)

Hello, all! My name is Alicia, and I’m excited to be posting a second time at Or So She Says. This is me with my little family!

My handsome husband and I have been married for 5 1/2 years, and we have two kidlets. Our daughter is three and our son in 1 1/2.

Isn’t this blog amazing?! I bless the day I found it! Jessica found me through my site: Story Lady Blog and asked me if I would like to write a guest post. I have a bad habit of never really writing anything of substance, so I was little lost when it came time to selecting a topic for my post. Luckily, a few of the brilliant Or So She Says readers have given topic suggestions. As I read through the list, I knew -without a doubt -what my topic would be.

Miscarriage.

I married the greatest man in the world in 2004. We had only dated for six months (including engagement!) when we were married. (It poured rain on our wedding day.)

We wanted to get to know one another a little better before we had children, and it never crossed our minds that getting pregnant would be, well, difficult. We had spent so much time PREVENTING pregnancy that when we actually welcomed it we were stunned that it didn’t just happen! We waited nearly a year -which I realize isn’t long at all, but when you’re going through it… it seems like it! When we got our first positive pregnancy test, we were jumping up and down, screaming, hugging, and crying. Just as soon as we could dial a phone, we were sharing the good news with our parents.

(this amazing picture was found at gurgle.com)

We were poor. Oh MAN, were we ever poor. We were both full-time students living in a studio apartment and had been known to scrounge for change to buy toilet paper. I didn’t have much money to go out and buy baby clothes, so I took myself down to a used clothing store and bought a few new-looking white infant jumpsuits. Toward the back of the store, I found a tattered copy of What To Expect When You’re Expecting.

I spent more time reading that book than I did reading any other text book I had. I did everything the book told me to do. I ate fresh foods. I took naps. I made sure to exercise adequately. One afternoon, I was awakened from my nap by sharp, painful cramps in my abdomen. It didn’t worry me -I just thought it was all a normal part of being pregnant.

Easter was coming up, and we traveled to my in-law’s home to spend it with them. The night before, I had some spotting that worried me. After spending all night waiting in a busy ER, I was given a slip of paper with the words “SPONTANEOUS ABORTION” written on the top. The doctor who gave it to me gave me a look that told me he wished he could take my pain away.

I spent Easter Day locked in a bedroom in a sort of surreal haze. Miscarriage was something that happened to other people -something I read about and heard about. The most I could do was curl up on the floor and try to make up for the sleep I lost in the waiting room the night before. I knew going home would be the worst part. I would have to walk through my front door and see everything: the tiny little outfits I had purchased and the worn book I had read so much of.

My husband and I didn’t talk much on the two hour drive home. We didn’t need to. I tried to think about anything other than what was waiting for me behind the door of my studio apartment. I looked out the window and wished unrealistically that we could just drive forever. When we pulled into our driveway, I noticed something strange on my door. As my husband and I moved in closer, we realized that our door was covered with paper hearts. Some of the hearts had messages written on them by two of our good friends. Do you know what they said? “We love you. You’re the best.”

That was JUST what I needed to hear.

What I have to say today is not for those who have miscarried, but for those who have not and wonder how to help or what to say. I’m grateful for my miscarriage because now I know what to say to other women who have to go through it. The pain of miscarriage is unspeakable, but the words of “comfort” people try to give can almost hurt worse.

It is normal -expected, even -to want to comfort someone in pain. So I felt bad hating some of the things that people said to make me feel better…

And you know what? I suddenly felt like a statistic who made mutated fetuses.

I didn’t want any more “comfort.” I just wanted to be pregnant again. I can not tell you enough how much it meant to me when someone would just say “I’m sorry.” Those two words gave me more comfort than any statistic ever did!

If you’re a mother, a brother, a father or anyone else close to someone who has miscarried, offer to take the burden of telling those who need to know that a miscarriage has occurred. If you’re a friend, just take your hurting friend something good to eat and pass along something that will make her smile: a movie, a book, a letter full of fun memories the two of you made together.

Yes, miscarriage is common. But it doesn’t feel that way when you’re going through it. Support is needed, but only the right kind of support is appreciated.

To recap:

Say “I’m sorry.”

Say “I love you.”

Say “Here’s a bag of Oreos and a chick flick.”

And then hug them while they cry.

Finally, always keep in mind that the mother will always remember her due date that never came to be. She’ll always look at children who are the same age as her “what might have been.” And she’ll always remember what it was like to lose a pregnancy.

If you are in a position to, program her due date into your phone and send a bouquet of flowers her way when that day comes. More than anything, it is nice to know that someone hasn’t forgotten.