One of the dangers in being a pregnancy loss author and speaker is that people will assume that you have somehow conquered loss. That it doesn’t affect you the way it affects everyone else. The same danger exists for those who face recurrent miscarriage.
There is this idea that we are better at it or that we don’t need as much support as someone who has had a traumatic first loss. Any first loss really.
Unfortunately as women have this way of talking ourselves out of helping people because it isn’t a new experience for them. We tend to flock to those newer, fresher, more traumatic appearing losses (be it in real life or online).
If a woman who already had a loss is going to go through pregnancy again (and I know the mental narrative sounds a lot like- if they are going to submit themselves to this again and again) then it becomes their problem. It happens once- that’s tragic. It happens twice (three, four, five or more times) and they should have seen it coming. It’s their consequence to face now. They should have known better.
I hope to you those words sound harsh and not familiar. The truth is they probably don’t come as a suprise. I know that many of readers here are in the three, four, five or more club.
Me too.
A friend of mine called it the one big loss phenomenon. Even in a recurrent situation, a mom who has a bigger loss (later miscarriage, stillbirth, maybe loss of twins, infant death) can be entitled to strong initial sympathy and support. But any future losses that rank “below” the big loss (or the first loss) don’t garner the same support.
In my experience recurrent miscarriage doesn’t get easier, it just gets more lonely.
And I wish I had a solution for that. I wish it was information I’ve gathered in the past several years of working in this area of ministry. Working in this ministry while living its realities.
With every loss my circle of support gets smaller.
When Naomi Grace passed away Thanksgiving weekend, I had enough support in my community to keep putting one foot in front of the other. To start the process of healing once again.
Just shy of eight weeks later, when I miscarried Agnes David last week- different story. And some (most) of it is entirely my fault. I only told one person I was pregnant again. I didn’t make an announcement about the loss online at all.
But even among those I shared the news with- a small list to start with- some didn’t even bother to respond to the email at all. Not even to offer prayers.
And I get it. See, I was (am) embarrassed by the same narrative that I know keeps people from reaching out to recurrent loss mamas. I should have waited longer. I should stop trying- clearly my body doesn’t want to cooperate anyway. I shouldn’t be sad because I should have known it was coming.
This was predictable.
I understand why people hesitate, but that doesn’t make it right.
And as always I ask, what can we do to make this better?
Maybe it’s just a part of who I am, but I can’t help but sit here and wonder how it got this way and how we can make it better.
A few years ago, I heard a speaker talk about how the field of “experts” has ruined a great deal of parenting. I didn’t love much of what this particular speaker shared, but I completely agree with his premise. The idea is that we fail to become experts in our own kids and family and to take authority because we are convinced others know more. Be it our doctor, a psychologist, teacher…or just the blogger we follow who seems to have it all together. Someone else has the answer to the hard stuff, not us.
For pregnancy and infant loss (and other forms of compassionate support we could offer each other as women), I think we are so convinced we are unqualified- or more that someone else would be better qualified- that we don’t do anything.
Effectively convincing ourselves that we aren’t the right person to help a friend in need.
But what if we are exactly the person who is meant to help a friend in need?
I can’t read scripture stories of early Christian communities and come up with anything that looks like them pushing each others’ burdens off as not their problem.
In fact, throughout scripture I see tons of examples of “Are you kidding me? I’m not qualified for that!” and God responding, “Well, you’re the one I want.”
Forgive my over simplification, but this story repeats itself again and again and again in both the old and new testaments. Clearly our struggles in this area of feeling underqualified and wanting to let someone else do the job are not new!
I think it comes down to being honest about what your friend facing recurrent miscarrage needs. Here are four things that might be helpful to know.
1. Facing multiple miscarriages, she may not be having the same arrangements for each baby because the same remains may not be available. Sorry if that grosses you out- its ok to be glad its not you– but that’s your friend’s reality. No burial most likely means no remains. This makes loss harder, not easier. It is not a sign that your friend is handling it better in not planning arrangements.
2. Your friend may say no to meals because she has learned to physically put one foot in front of the other during these losses and this helps her heal. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t need other forms of support. Taking time to physically be present, even if she doesn’t want to talk about her babies, is still probably the number one thing you can do. I know we are all strapped by busy schedules, but the ministry of time is important.
3. Some women enduring recurrent miscarriages tend to go to the doctor and have early ultrasounds and labs. They take comfort in doing everything they can. Others prefer to wait until they are farther along to even make an appointment because all the medical solutions have failed them. Enduring those extra pokes, prods, and monitoring makes the loss harder. Some women do something different each time. Let your friend take the lead on the medical side. Yes NAPRO is amazing but it isn’t a magic bullet. (In other words- stay away from medical advice unless she brings it up.)
4. And lastly, the spiritual battles here are real. Oh they are so real. Please, please, please give your friend permission to be exactly where she is and let God work it out in her heart in the way and timing that he chooses. I’m not saying don’t encourage, I’m not saying don’t pray (both with and for her). Please do that. Encourage her to stay close to the sacraments and pray the rosary. But don’t dismiss the very real suffering that your friend is enduring with offhand comments. I know many women who have turned away from God, their husbands, their friends, their family…. partially because of one line quips about God’s timing or perfect plan or other such things.
God’s timing is perfect and his plan is beyond anything we can imagine, but don’t discount your friend’s experience by implying that you know just what that timing and plan are supposed to be. Let God work it out in her, don’t accidentally try to be the expert.
When in doubt, “I’m sorry. I love you. Can we pray together? I will pray for you.”
It’s not hard for me to imagine that when you look at your friend facing recurrent miscarriage, you see a woman of great strength. You see someone facing a giant with great courage and fortitude. That is certainly what I see in the faces of many friends and loved ones who have walked this journey.
Your friend, however, she probably doesn’t see that strength right now. She sees her broken, bruised, worn out body and is sad for what isn’t, even as she has no choice but to accept what is. She’s tired of asking for help and hates that she needs it yet again.
She needs you, no matter how strong she seems and how unqualified you feel.
Facing recurrent miscarriage? You are not alone.
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