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Miscarriage Mom

The Unspoken Realities of Miscarriage and How to Cope

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What to Expect Emotionally

I swear I will punch that pregnant lady in the face if she doesn't stop complaining!

Yes, you read that correctly. Don't be alarmed if you find yourself thinking some awful, crazy thoughts after a miscarriage. For a time, you may experience a change in how you view life. Small things will seem smaller and even insignificant. All you can think about is your child and who he or she could have been. You probably started to consider names for your child, how you were going to decorate the nursery, who would be the godparents, and the like. Miscarriages often occur abruptly; you aren't forewarned that your baby plans won't come to fruition.

Due to the anger and negative emotions building up inside, it's common to experience some outrageous thoughts and feelings that shock you. You may find yourself having an internal conversation, wondering where these thoughts came from. You may even ask yourself, Who am I?

Did you walk out of the doctor's office hating every pregnant woman sitting in the waiting area?

I sure did!

Right now, you're most likely feeling pretty angry. Or should I say very angry? Angry that you lost your angel. Angry that people don't seem to care. Angry that no one understands you. Angry that the mother in the supermarket is treating her child that way; if only she knew how fortunate she was. Angry that the woman over there is complaining about how hard it is to be pregnant in the summer. You're probably so angry you might actually punch someone if he or she isn't careful. (I don't recommend this, although I totally get it. Try going to the gym instead.)

I'm typically a laid-back person; the small things in life rarely bother me. I do my best to put things in perspective and look at the bigger picture. I tend to handle adversity very well and often have no problem finding something positive in any situation. But that was never the case after a miscarriage.

In the weeks and months after a miscarriage, it was hard for me to let go of the tornado of negative emotions that were building up inside me. I lost six babies. What's positive about that? I was very angry, and I was jealous of every mother on this earth. I was jealous of every pregnant woman who got to experience pregnancy and watch her belly grow. I was jealous she got to shop for maternity clothes and baby items. I was jealous of all the young moms playing with their kids in the park.

It's understandable to have these feelings. You've just lost your child due to no fault of your own, and he or she can't be bought back. Please know that these feelings are valid and normal. With time, they will subside, and you will begin to feel like yourself again. I promise. For some, it takes longer than others, and that's okay. In the meantime, if you're having a hard time even looking at a baby, I suggest avoiding places that you know will be swarmed with pregnant women or young children, if possible.

For me, along with anger and jealously came an overwhelming feeling of sadness. You're mourning, and it's okay to be sad. It's important to find someone you can talk to, who understands your loss and will listen to you. Don't bottle up your feelings of sadness. It's okay to cry.

Surround yourself with a support system to help you move forward. I wanted to be alone, and that's okay. However, you can't be alone forever; it's against our human nature. Talking about it is also important. I didn't talk to anyone about my loss. I tried to keep myself together and put on a strong face. This led me down the path to depression. I don't want you to go there. Trust me, it's neither fun nor healthy. Allow yourself to feel these feelings, and then do your best to let them go, and move forward. With time, you'll begin to feel your normal self again.

Then something happens.

Just as you're starting to feel like you're doing better, someone says something or does something that takes you right back to where you started.

Angry and upset.

During my second pregnancy, my sister-in-law was also pregnant. In fact, our due dates were only two weeks apart. I lost my baby at eight weeks. Months passed, and I was doing okay. Then my mother-in-law asked me to write the invitations for my sister-in-law's baby shower. I adore my mother-in-law, so without hesitation, I said yes. But when I sat down to write the invitations, it hit me. I was a mess.

The horrible, negative feelings crept right back into my life. How could they ask me to write these invitations? I should be writing my own baby shower invitations. Has everyone already forgotten I too was pregnant? My baby should be due too. I sat there and cried as I handwrote each invitation. I suggest that if someone asks this of you, kindly remind her you don't think it's the best idea and gently refuse the offer.

I wrote the invitations, and I attended the baby shower. The baby shower was for my niece, after all. But with every game played and every gift opened, I felt anger building back up inside. Was I being selfish? Shouldn't I have been happy? Was I a bad person for not wanting to be there? Looking back, I know it was not wrong of me to have those feelings.

If you're in a similar situation — maybe your sister or best friend is also pregnant, and you find yourself in this internal debate — try to hold yourself together. Do whatever you need to do. If you need to walk away, walk away. If you need to decline an invitation, kindly decline. I didn't want to be rude or cause a scene, as it was my sister-in-law's special day, so I sat through all the festivities of the day.

Looking back now, I know I could have left. They would have understood that it was too soon for me to be writing baby shower invitations and watching baby gifts being opened. Speak up for what you know you can and can't take. You don't have to be a hero and put on an act. Family and friends will understand if you let them know what's going on inside. Don't put yourself through any more than you have already been through.

As time passes and you begin to accept your loss (not forget it) and move on, you will no longer feel like punching that pregnant woman in the face. Gradually you can be surrounded once again by things baby without breaking down into a ball of sadness.

The Dreaded Question

You get married, and you know it's coming. It may come from your parents, friends, or veritable stranger. For some reason, people feel inclined to ask couples without children, "So, when are you guys going to have kids."

Ouch!

I've experienced this many times over. My family and close friends know we've tried to have a child and understand our situation, so we don't get it a lot. When Vinny and I meet new people and they find out we are in our midthirties and just celebrated our tenth wedding anniversary, for some reason the next questions are child related: Do you guys have kids? No. So, when are you guys going to have kids?

Although this questioning is seemingly unavoidable, it hurts. It's rude for anyone to ask questions of this manner, because none of us know the histories of everyone we meet. Our accomplishments and failures aren't written on our faces. Behind every person is a story, and people need to respect that.

I try to focus only on the things I can control, and I can't control whether a stranger is going to ask such a question. However, I can choose how I react. I prefer to tell the truth. Though this may seem awkward to you, your miscarriage is not something you should hide — unless you choose to keep it private. In that case, you may like to say something as simple as "I don't know" and then change the subject.

You shouldn't feel ashamed or feel like you can't answer truthfully because of how the topic of miscarriage makes others feel. It's a part of life for millions of couples and shouldn't be taboo. When I mention this to other women, I often find they too have miscarried. Immediately a special bond is formed. It's nice to know others out there have been down the same road. I believe women should help and support each other, and one way to do this is by not hiding our struggles.

What exactly do I say? I tell them straight up: "Oh, we tried, but I've had six miscarriages." If the person you're speaking with hasn't experienced a miscarriage, then he or she is likely to cringe and apologize, but it is what it is.

While we're discussing stray comments that are too frequently thrown out there without any thought behind them, let's look at that one thrown out most often by tired parents. On more than one occasion, I've been standing in line at the grocery store alongside young kids misbehaving, begging their parent for every and any candy bar conveniently placed by the cash register. Often embarrassed, the parent will nonchalantly say to me, "You want them? You can take them."

Ouch! Dagger to the heart.

Don't cry! Don't cry!

Depending on the time frame between these comments and your miscarriage, it can be very upsetting. Please know that if you find yourself in one of these situations, feeling hurt or angry is understandable. You aren't being irrational for having these feelings. People don't realize their comments are potentially heartbreaking to a woman who has recently miscarried. In this situation, I leave everything unsaid. There's no need to add fuel to the exhausted parent's fire.

Facing the World Again

Did you ever walk into a room and all conversation stopped? Did the room fill with an awkward silence? Don't worry; you aren't alone. This often happened after one of my miscarriages. People didn't seem to know how to react when they heard the news. When someone passes, people know to send sympathy cards and give caring words to the grieving family. However, when a woman miscarries, people tend to freeze, not knowing what to do or what to say. No one came rushing to my door with words of sympathy. I believe, for the most part, people just don't know what to say. So they take the safe route and say nothing at all.

It's interesting to look back on how people reacted. Most reactions were unexpected or at least different from what I'd consider appropriate. And these reactions occurred again and again. I wondered if it was me, if I was doing something to cause people to react in certain ways. But when my best friend miscarried her first child, she got the same reactions. I live in Florida, and she lives in Perth, Western Australia, so I realized the issue is worldwide. I was comforted that it wasn't just me.

Generally, society seems confused about how to react to the loss of a child through miscarriage. This chapter helps prepare you for some of the not-so-comforting reactions, so you can deal with them if they occur. I've broken them into particular groups, as people's reactions vary depending on their closeness to you.

Our families are typically the people we feel we can rely on the most. They're the ones we expect to know exactly what to do and say to help ease our pain. Hopefully, that has been the case for you. Unfortunately, though miscarriages are common, the event is foreign to anyone who hasn't experienced it. Sometimes family members are no more qualified to comfort you than anyone else.

Partners and Spouses

If you're blessed with a spouse or loving partner, you'll most likely share your pain with him first. For many years, I cried to my husband about how life is unfair and asked what I did wrong. "Why does this keep happening to us?"

Naturally, as a male, he tried to fix the problem. He'd ask, "What can I do to make you happy? Do you want me to go get you something?" He didn't like to see me cry and needed to know how to make it stop. He needed to know how to fix my unhappiness in that moment. What I needed from him was a listening ear and understanding — not for him to fix it. There was nothing to fix; no one can fix grieving. It wasn't until my last miscarriage (baby number six) that my husband did exactly what I needed.

Because of my history (five miscarriages in five years), doctors intervened with my desire to have a child, and we were together doing everything possible to ensure the next pregnancy went full term. I was seven weeks pregnant, and my HCG numbers weren't increasing as much as expected in a healthy pregnancy. I underwent weekly blood tests to monitor these levels. Each visit to the doctor's office was as nerve-racking as giving a speech to a thousand people. I always had to take a deep breath right before answering the doctor's call with that week's numbers. I was stressed, desperate, and on edge.

One Friday, a nurse called to say my numbers were not up from the week before, indicating I would likely lose the baby. The fact my HCG levels had not gone down was the only glimmer of hope that the baby might make it. But everything pointed toward an ectopic pregnancy. An ectopic pregnancy is a pregnancy in which a fertilized egg develops outside the uterus, typically in the fallopian tube. This is known to happen in about one of every fifty pregnancies. Doctors usually discover it by the eighth week of pregnancy. The nurse continued to warn me of all the side effects I needed to watch for over the weekend — things like pain under the breast; heavy, unusual bleeding; and severe pain in the abdomen, shoulder, and so on. I was on high alert and was told to go directly to the emergency room if I felt any of the above. Happy Friday!

Vinny is from a loud and loving Italian family. Every Sunday night, the entire family eats a big Italian meal together at his parents' house. His dad makes the best meatballs — the size of your fist. After dinner, I shared our baby's grim situation. I was happy to have made it through the weekend with no symptoms. Monday morning, I headed back to the doctor's office with high hopes. I'd be lying, however, if I said I wasn't scared about what was to come.

At the doctor's office, I was told it was, in fact, an ectopic pregnancy. The baby was gone. I was devastated. The nurse informed me that, to treat the ectopic pregnancy, she would give me two shots to help "everything" pass. She explained, "It's quite a large shot, so we will be doing one on each side." I was to put all my weight on the opposite side of my body when it was time.

I was wearing a heavy hoodie and asked the nurse if I should remove it to make it easier for her to access my upper arm.

"Oh no," she said, "it goes in the gluteus. Can you please pull down your pants?"

I didn't see that one coming.

Leaving the doctor's office with a Band-Aid on each butt cheek, I felt a little closure. That was it. It was official: the baby had passed. That day, not one person picked up the phone to call (or even text) to see how it went or how I was doing. Then two very long and lonely days went by.

The following Wednesday, we had some car trouble that resulted in Vinny having to take a day off work. We could spend some time together for the first time in quite a while — a true blessing. So we went out to breakfast.

Sitting at breakfast, I got off on a tangent about Monday, about how not one person had called me to ask how things went at the doctor's office. I told Vinny that Monday made me realize I really was going through this alone. Tears welled up in his eyes. He didn't say a word, but seeing his emotion for the first time after this miscarriage meant more to me than any words could portray. He wasn't trying to fix me; he was there with me. He understood. I was a lucky woman.

Now here's my advice to you: Tell your partner what you need today. If it's a shoulder to cry on, a listening ear, a night out, some fresh flowers, a bottle of wine, whatever — speak up! Don't sit back feeling sorry for yourself, like I did for so many years, miscarriage after miscarriage. I want you to learn from my mistakes. I believe that admitting my mistakes and challenges is a source of strength. I want to point them out because you can learn from them and ultimately avoid them. Don't sit around waiting, wishing, hoping for the phone to ring, for someone to stop by or for your partner to ask how you're doing today. Speak up! As I previously mentioned, miscarriages are misunderstood, so only you know what you need. Tell your partner what you really need most today.

Siblings

Brothers, sisters, stepbrothers, stepsisters, best friends you consider family — whatever your relationship — remember, unless people have personally experienced a miscarriage, it's uncommon ground, and their reactions may not be what you expect. Don't hold a grudge, because they don't know what they have or haven't done. Consider this story of my coworker (we'll call her Sarah) as an example.

Sarah is a twin. At the time, her twin sister had a one-year-old child. After her miscarriage, Sarah was ignored at work with a case of that awkward silence, so she sought comfort in family. Sarah had to have a D&C after her loss. The day after that surgery, without thinking, her twin sister gave her a calendar full of pictures of her and her firstborn child. Sarah wanted to rip that calendar up right there in front of her. How could she be so insensitive? A baby calendar. Really? What was she thinking? She wasn't. At the end of the day, humans can be very self-involved. Just because we didn't get much time with our baby and didn't have the opportunity to hold our precious child doesn't mean we didn't love and feel completely responsible for the little miracle growing inside us.

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Excerpted from Miscarriage Mom by Kristy Parisi. Copyright © 2016 Kristy Parisi. Excerpted by permission of AuthorHouse.
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