Showing posts with label miscarriage guilt. Show all posts
Showing posts with label miscarriage guilt. Show all posts

Tuesday, 5 May 2015

12 Things NOT to Say to Someone Who Has Had a Miscarriage



1. God only wanted you to have this gift for that amount of time. 

While I am not saying this isn't true, chances are pretty good that those of us who have had a miscarriage may be a little angry at having been given this gift and then it being taken away. 

2. You can start trying again right away. 

Again, this is a true statement, as long as there are no other complications. But really, we just went through one of the most devastating things a parent can go through, so the risk of it happening again may not cheer us up the way you think it might. 

3. In the case of a blighted ovum, like I had, telling me there was never something there, the WRONG thing to say. 

First of all, you never know how far the baby actually did develop, whether there was an actual heartbeat or not. And as soon as that stick shows you are pregnant, there's a baby in your heart. So when you lose the pregnancy, that baby who lives in your heart, who you have been holding and feeding disappears. There WAS a baby. 

4.  How are you?

Seriously?  Give your head a shake. I don't exactly want to scream from the rooftops how fabulous my life is right now if you get what I mean. I just lost a child. I am devastated and if you had to call to ask, then I am NOT alright. And the last thing I want to do is have an awkward conversation with you, trying to pretend all the questions you are asking me aren't ripping my heart out piece by piece. 

5.  Is there anything I can do?

I know this is asked out of concern. But most people know what is included in day to day life. Laundry needs to be done, floors need to be swept, dinner needs to be cooked. These are not things I care about right now. I am merely trying to take it 5 minutes, 1 hour or 1 day at a time. If you want to help, drop off a meal. Ask if you can come by and help with laundry or housework.  Be specific in the way you would like to help. The world is so big and scary to us right now that when you ask if there is anything you can do, all we can think is "can you bring my baby back? Nope. So there is nothing you can do."  

6.  Why did this happen?

I have no idea. And that thought scares the heck out of me. Did I do something?  Am I being punished?  Am I not a good enough parent to deserve another gift from God?  With the availability of the Internet, please just google it. That's what I've been doing, so you'll have exactly the same answers as me. 

7.  Is it preventable?

Really, ask google. All this question does is make us feel like we are somehow so careless that we wanted this to happen or that we did something to deserve it. If we could have prevented it, we would. 

8. I need to talk to that husband of yours. 

Believe it or not, someone actually said this to me. Because, you know, he somehow wanted this to happen so you need to discuss why it happened with him. Oh wait, he just lost a baby too. And since he is really just a bystander in all of this, what exactly do you think he had control over in all of this?  His job as he husband is to deliver to us whatever we are craving, hold our hand through all the morning sickness and suffer the brunt of our mood swings. He can't fix this, as all men are programmed to want to do. He can't make the baby magically appear. He can't un-break our hearts. And society makes him feel like he has to bottle all of his hurt inside of him otherwise he isn't a real man. So maybe you should respect that this is a loss for him too. 

9. Why haven't I heard from you?

Are you honestly going to make this about you?

Really, just like us not wanting to be asked if we are okay, or what happened, or if we need anything, asking why we are avoiding the public as a whole, you included, as if we somehow need to make you feel better, is not what we need right now. I don't need to feel guilty about how you are feeling right now. If you have been through this, then you most likely understand we are just doing the best we can to move on as best we can. In our own way. Which leads me to #10. 

10.  I understand how you feel. 

Unless you have had this same experience, don't say you understand. There is nothing to compare to this. And until you walk this path, you have no idea. 

11.  I don't like to hear that. 

Yes, this was actually said to me by my boss.  Repeatedly. In my head, I am screaming (sarcastically), "Really?  I was ecstatic to hear the news!"  Dumbass. Once again, the last thing I feel like doing right now is making someone else feel better. There are few times in a woman's life where it's all about her. Her wedding day, and when she loses a child. She doesn't want to hear how hard this is on you. She doesn't want you to call her crying and try to make you feel alright. 

12.  At least you already have kids

While god has blessed me with two children that I get to kiss goodnight, in no way does this make the loss of a child hurt less. I am lucky in the sense that while many women never get to hold their children on this earth, it does not change the fact that while I got to hold this child in my heart, I will not get to hold this precious gift in my arms. This is not a case of at least you still have another car to get you back and forth, this was a life, no matter how short it was. 

I'm certain there are many more things that could be added to this list. This was just one persons experience. And it's an awful, terrifying, heartbreaking experience. This is not something I would wish on anyone. 

When I had my miscarriage, I dealt with it the only way I knew how. One step at a time. Sometimes I felt more like I was crawling than actually walking, other times, I went much faster. I remember hating to see pregnant women. Wondering why they got to still be pregnant and I didn't. I remember holding a friends baby just a few days after as she told me about her miscarriage experiences (yes, multiple, she is that badass), with tears in her eyes, not wanting the fact that she had a baby in her house to hurt me in any way. And I remember her telling me that maybe, just maybe if her pain could lessen mine, then maybe it was a little more worthwhile. Not that it made it alright by any means, but at least she could help someone else through their struggle. 

If you are reading this, then I pray for you. I pray that you will find strength in those around you while your heart heals.  I pray that the people around you will help you heal in the exact way YOU need to, not the way they think you should. And most of all, I pray that you have peace knowing that you did not cause this. You are an amazing person. A beautiful, wonderful child of God. And he loves you. More than you can ever imagine. If you let him, he will get you through this. He can take the anger, the questions and the pain. And he will always love you. 


Tuesday, 14 January 2014

My Miscarriage Journey

So, most of you have probably noticed that it has been FOREVER since I last posted.  And I have some amazing reasons why.  The first reason is truly a blessing.  We found out that we were expecting our third child at the end of November. 




I was shocked.  I have mentioned before that I am a planner, and while we knew this was certainly a possibility, after 7 months of trying, I had kind of made peace with only having two children.  I had started cleaning out baby stuff.  I had even given away my maternity clothes.




God laughs at our plans, right?




So, I took December off to enjoy my couch and prepare as best as I was able to for Christmas.  Morning sickness is a term I am a little over familiar with.  And mine sticks around pretty much all waking hours.  I managed to lose 10 lbs before New Years.




And on January 3, we went for an ultrasound to get a birthday for our new addition. 




And this is where it all went horribly wrong.




You see, we went in expecting to see what every parent expects to see during that ultrasound.  A baby.  Only we never got to see our little miracle.  The ultrasound tech said that she couldn't find a baby.  She said it matter of factly, like it was ok.  But it wasn't.  I was sick.  I was tired all the time.  I was pregnant dammit.  Where was my baby?




She consulted with the radiologist, leaving us alone in the room.  She came back and did an internal ultrasound.  Then she left again.  And when she came back, she said that there was no baby.  There never was a baby.  These things happen.  You are free to go home and follow up with your family Dr. on Monday.




Pardon me?




We went home, shocked that this had happened.  We didn't know what to think, or how to feel.  We didn't know what comes next.  We just knew that our little miracle...wasn't.




I spent the evening telling our friends and family that we were no longer expecting, hugging my babies (thank God I already had two kids to go home to hug, I can't imagine going home with empty arms), and looking on Google to find out what had just happened.




It's called a blighted ovum, which basically means that when sperm met egg, a placenta, etc., was formed, but something went wrong with the chromosomes, so a baby never actually formed.  My body was still receiving signals from the placenta that I was pregnant, so it was trucking along just as misinformed as I was.  They think that this is actually the most common type of miscarriage.  They say as many as 1 in 4 pregnancies are miscarriages.  Most happen within the first 5 weeks of pregnancy, often before a pregnancy is even suspected.


This left us with 3 options.  I could wait until my body clued in, and I miscarried "naturally".   Since that can take anywhere up to 3 weeks or more, I really didn't want to let nature take its course and torture me in the process.  My hubby agreed, stating that I was going to be heartbroken no matter what, and waiting would just be torture and delay the healing process.




I could take some pills that would cause the "natural" process happen faster, but this would be painful, messy and just seemed like so much more than I could bear. 




Or, I could have a surgery where they would knock me out, remove everything from my uterus, and after 3-7 days, my body would be back to normal.  I think my heart is going to take a LOT longer.


The process was really quite simple, and was the right choice for me.  I do not judge anyone who has made a different decision, as it is a very personal decision.  Only you can decide which option will help you start the grieving process.  I went in to the hospital, they did one final round of blood work, then I waited for an OR to open up.  I was in the operating room for about 30 minutes, although awake for only about 5 of those.  Then I woke up in recovery, waited until I was stable and awake enough to get dressed, then I got to go home.


I went home, hugged my babies, ate a full dinner (for the first time in 6 weeks!), and cuddled with my hubby.  I was in no real physical pain at all. 


The specialist who did my surgery said that she always sends the tissue away just to be sure.  Since I have already had two healthy babies, she is quite certain that there is nothing wrong with either one of us and doesn't really expect any results from the tests.  But she sends it away because the more research they do, the more answers they will have so that maybe they can do something in the future.  It helps to think that maybe I can help someone else not have to go through this.


If you are reading this trying to figure out what is happening to you, know that you will get through it.  5 minutes at a time, one foot in front of the other.