Miscarriage When You're Already a Mom

I’m allowed to be sad I had a miscarriage even though I have two healthy kids. So do not. DO NOT. Please, just don’t tell me to be thankful for the two healthy kids I have. The two things are so completely and utterly unrelated. OF COURSE, I’m thankful for my two healthy children. Are you serious? Being sad is entirely different from being ungrateful.

Here’s the thing, I love my children. I know their quirks, their fears and anxieties, I know what makes them light up and what makes them sad. They make me laugh even when I should be mad at them. Not only am I thankful for my children, but I am grateful and completely aware of the unique blessing each of my children bring to this life. I love them each, individually, with the entirety of my heart. Having a third child would not, in any way, affect the amount that I love my two children. Similarly, losing a pregnancy and grieving that loss has no bearing (absolutely none at all) on the amount I love and appreciate my two children.

I cannot, in any way, wrap my head around how anyone would think that is a comforting or appropriate thing to say to someone who has just lost a pregnancy. So please, even if you’re tempted to, even if you think it in your head… don’t say it. Please.

Other variations to avoid: “At least you have two healthy kids” or “Just be happy you have two healthy kids”. Reasons to avoid: see above.

While we’re at it, you should probably, just not say any of these things either:

“Oh well”. Really? That’s the best you’ve got? Maybe just don’t say anything at all.
Do not. I repeat, DO NOT add your sympathies as a- P.S. or btw- to a sales pitch. I still do not want to buy your Rodan & Fields. You are the worst.
“Everything happens for a reason”. Please, for the love of God. No. I think I just threw up in my mouth. Don’t.

The problem with this one (aside from it being cringingly cliche) is that the statement, itself, does not actually convey the sentiment which is usually intended. I think, when someone says this, they mean something to the effect of things will get better or try to find some meaning in what happened. But, what you are saying; what the phrase actually means (or how it comes off, anyway) is so completely self-centered and narrowly focused, it’s disturbing. I’d dare say, it’s dangerous.

To explain, I’m going to share an example that is unrelated to pregnancy loss but can easily be applied to the situation. If you’ve followed me or my writing, I’m sure you know that we lost my big brother to colon cancer at the age of 33. As a result, my husband and I took drastic steps to change the way we were living. When I tell someone this story and they respond with “everything happens for a reason”, it implies that my brother only lived so that my life would unfold a certain way (see: self-centered). The truth is actually the exact opposite: because my brother lived (and lived so fully), I was inspired to redirect my life.

The same goes for saying this phrase to someone who’s just suffered a miscarriage. It implies that the loss will somehow turn into a good thing and that the mother will see that in time.

It won’t. She won’t. Don’t say it.

Here are some things that you can say:

“How are you feeling?” But, be prepared that the answer might refer to the physical or emotional and accept either answer as if it were what you’d expected.
“I can’t imagine how you’re feeling, but I’m here if you need to talk”. She might not want to talk though, and that’s okay.
“I’ve also had a similar experience and I’m here if you need to talk”. It is very kind to reach out in this way, but I caution that you not get into the game of comparing grief. Grief sucks. It is the worst.

I can’t imagine the pain of having a late-term miscarriage, a stillbirth, losing a young child, or losing an adult child. I pray to God that I never have to know. But, no one’s grief is more or less; it is just different. Grief is not, and never should be a competition. If you find yourself in a position where you are comparing or competing (and I am 100% not being sarcastic or snarky, right now), it is time to talk to a professional about your own grief.

If all else fails; and no words seem to convey exactly what you’d like to say… send a goat (Shout out to my bestie, Val).