The loss of a child through miscarriage can be a difficult and emotional experience. Even in the early weeks of pregnancy, many women develop a strong bond with their unborn child and feel a deep sense of loss when miscarriage occurs.
Common responses include shock or denial, disappointment or anger, helplessness or perceived loss of control, sense of failure, feelings of inadequacy, guilt or self-blame, sadness or fear. Everyone responds in a different way to the grief process. There are no “shoulds” or “right” ways to feel. Keep in mind that whatever your feelings, it is important to be gentle with yourself. Although there are many ways to lessen the pain, the only thing that truly diminishes grief is time. Some women will move through this loss freely, while for others, it will take far longer.
During your recovery, it is important to eat properly, get plenty of rest, exercise – and most importantly, do not be afraid to ask for what you need. Reach out to others and request help; allow friends to make meals, watch other children or help with household duties.
When you feel ready, talk about your experience. You may be surprised how many other women can offer their love and support because they have been down this road too. Although it does not ease your grief, miscarriage occurs in 10 to 20 percent of pregnancies making it a very difficult common experience. However, be prepared that when you talk about your experience, you may also encounter some misunderstanding. Many people who have not experienced a miscarriage consider it the end of a pregnancy rather than the loss of a child. They may question your grief or suggest that you keep busy and forget about your loss. Be assured that your grief is real and allow your tears to flow. In time, with love and support, your pain will subside, but the loss will always be a part of your life.
It is likely that you will not want to be around other pregnant women or that you will be unable to attend a friend or relative’s baby shower. This is a very natural reaction and does not indicate jealousy or selfishness on your part. It is important to honor these feelings and to be honest with others about them; they will understand.
Some women find it helpful to honor the existence of their baby by giving their baby a name and participating in a funeral or ritual to mark the loss. In addition, prepare yourself for future dates, such as your unborn baby’s due date and subsequent anniversaries. These dates will likely have a place in your heart for years to come.
One issue that exacerbates this loss is that there are not always explanations for miscarriage. While it is important to ask your health care provider if there is an explanation, understand that often there is no specific medical problem.
Given the many hormonal changes, you may experience mood swings, fatigue, irritability, heart palpitations, poor appetite and a desire to withdraw from social activities. All of these symptoms are normal and will gradually diminish. However, if you find these symptoms to be persistent or severe, call your health care provider immediately.
Physical Healing After a Miscarriage
Physically, it may take several weeks or months for your body to return to normal. In the beginning, you may notice spotting or light vaginal bleeding, mild cramping, nausea and fullness in your abdomen and breasts.
To help prevent infection, use sanitary napkins instead of tampons and avoid sexual intercourse until your bleeding stops. Call your health care provider immediately if:
Planning for the Future
If you are considering becoming pregnant in the future, discuss your risks and options with your health care provider. Every situation is unique, but in most cases, the chances of suffering another loss are not significantly increased unless you have had three or more miscarriages. Whatever you decide, remember to give yourself ample time to recover physically and emotionally from your miscarriage before making the decision to get pregnant.
Subsequent pregnancies may create a number of psychological issues, including anxiety about possible recurrent miscarriages and the fear of not being able to have children. Anxiety will be greatest up until the time that the first miscarriage occurred. It is understandable that you would experience this type of response. In order to cope, stay in the here-and-now and focus on being pregnant again and not what could possibly happen.
Additional Resources
If you want more structured, formal help, you may wish to pursue counseling at Virginia Women’s Center with one of our two psychologists: Dr. Lisa Cuseo-Ott or Dr. Mary Polce-Lynch. There are also many support organizations and groups in the Greater Richmond area that you may find helpful, including:
About Virginia Women’s Center
At Virginia Women’s Center, we value the complete health of women. As researchers continue to identify the significant relationship between physical and mental health, Virginia Women’s Center has emerged as a leader in innovative health care for women by providing psychological counseling services to our patients since 2005. For more information, visit www.VirginiaWomensCenter.com, or find us on Facebook, Pinterest and Twitter.
Virginia Women’s Center is a sponsor of Richmondmom.com
]]>April 1 marked the two year anniversary of my miscarriage. I am shocked at how difficult this realization is. The wound is still open and occasionally as fresh as it was that early morning, as I writhed in pain and begged an unmerciful God to let me keep my baby.
It is a terrible feeling when your body fails you. It is a tremendous blow to lose the magical power of reproduction.
I knew I was pregnant immediately, and it was definitely an “Oh, shit” pregnancy. It wasn’t a great time to have another child.
Our house was too small, our bank account was too low, and the job market was too volatile. Once we got over the initial shock, we sketched a few ideas for a house addition and started looking at minivans. I quit smoking (again) and lamented the arsenal of wine I had just purchased at Trader Joe’s. I decided it was a girl. We started to prepare to become a family of four.
At five and a half weeks pregnant, I woke up bleeding. I panicked. My doctor said the pregnancy “appeared abnormal” but he “could be wrong” and “stranger things have happened” and then sent me to LabCorp. No one would use the big “M” word, or even look me in the eye.
My husband clung to these morsels of positivity, but I knew what was happening. I was angry at the doctor for being so vague and indecisive. I didn’t want false hope, I wanted an answer. I wanted to know what to expect – how long it would take, how would it feel, how would I feel? Would I know it was happening?
That night, I woke up to what felt like a mini-labor. I understood my body was preparing to expel the tiny life it had only so recently created. I crept downstairs to lie on the couch; I wanted to be alone. I sobbed, silently pleading my baby not to leave me. She did.
The next day my husband went to work. I left a voice mail for my doctor describing my experience. A return call from the nurse resulted in another awkward conversation in which she could not confirm what I had experienced was a miscarriage. She recommended I return to LabCorp in a few days. I switched doctors.
Some friends cried with me. Others, well meaning, pointed out how lucky I was to have another child or suggested I just try again. Everyone seemed to expect me to be fine in a matter of days and I tried so hard to be. I got a pedicure, went shopping, got drunk, celebrated my 30th birthday, and got drunk some more, but I could not shake the grief. I could barely function.
Out of necessity, I eventually reentered the world of the living. But I haven’t been the same since.
I write this not to ask for your sympathy, but to ask for your honesty. There are many of us who have experienced this very real, profound loss. We still grieve. We do not, however, talk about it.
We feel ashamed. We feel we did something wrong. We feel silly for being so damn sad. We wonder why we can’t just get over it. So, we try to forget about it. We don’t bring it up and we continue to grieve in silence.
This is simply unnecessary. There are so many of us; in fact, approximately one in four pregnancies ends in miscarriage. I am tired of acting like a leper. I want to talk about the hopes and dreams that I lost that day.
I want to remember that baby because she was real to me. I just want her to be real to someone else, too. I want someone else to remember and grieve for her with me.
That’s the worst part about a miscarriage – to everyone else, it kind of never happened. There’s no memorial service, no sympathy lasagnas and banana bread , and no old friends calling to say they’ve heard the sad news.
We simply don’t know what to do or say. I get that.
But instead of closing the blinds and suffering alone, let’s reach out to each other. I am always shocked at the support I have found in the most unlikely of places, but I had to ask for it first. Let’s be more honest with each other, more real. We’re not alone in this world and we shouldn’t have to act as though we are. This is a real loss and a real death. There’s nothing wrong with asking for help to cope with it.
My friend Lia recently shared this quote by Adrienne Rich with me: “When a woman tells the truth, she is creating the possibility for more truth around her.”
This is my truth – maybe it’s yours, too? Let’s end our silence and grieve together.
If you have a story you’re willing to share with our readers, please email us. We appreciate your heartfelt honesty and our thoughts are with anyone who has had a similar loss; we hope that some healing will occur in the sharing of these stories.
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