What we wish you knew about pregnancy loss:
A letter from women to their friends and family
Date: Sat, 23 Mar 2002
When women experience the loss of a child, one of the first things they
discover they have in common is a list of things they wish no one had ever said
to them. The lists tend to be remarkably similar.
The comments are rarely malicious - just misguided attempts to soothe.
This list was compiled as a way of helping other people understand pregnancy
loss. While generated by mothers for mothers, it may also apply similarly to the
fathers who have endured this loss.
When trying to help a woman who has lost a baby, the best rule of thumb is a
matter of manners: don't offer your personal opinion of her life, her choices,
her prospects for children. No woman is looking to poll her acquaintances for
their opinions on why it happened or how she should cope.
| Don't say, "It's God's Will." Even if we are members of the same
congregation, unless you are a cleric and I am seeking your spiritual
counseling, please don't presume to tell me what God wants for me. Besides,
many terrible things are God's Will, that doesn't make them less terrible. |
| Don't say, "It was for the best - there was probably something wrong with
your baby." The fact that something was wrong with the baby is what is making
me so sad. My poor baby never had a chance. Please don't try to comfort me by
pointing that out. |
| Don't say, "You can always have another one." This baby was never
disposable. If had been given the choice between loosing this child or
stabbing my eye out with a fork, I would have said, "Where's the fork?" I
would have died for this baby, just as you would die for your children. |
| Don't say, "Be grateful for the children you have." If your mother died in
a terrible wreck and you grieved, would that make you less grateful to have
your father? |
| Don't say, "Thank God you lost the baby before you really loved it." I
loved my son or daughter. Whether I lost the baby after two weeks of pregnancy
or just after birth, I loved him or her. |
| Don't say, "Isn't it time you got over this and moved on?" It's not
something I enjoy, being grief-stricken. I wish it had never happened. But it
did and it's a part of me forever. The grief will ease on its own timeline,
not mine - or yours. |
| Don't say, "Now you have an angel watching over you." I didn't want her to
be my angel. I wanted her to bury me in my old age. |
| Don't say, "I understand how you feel." Unless you've lost a child, you
really don't understand how I feel. And even if you have lost a child,
everyone experiences grief differently. |
| Don't tell me horror stories of your neighbor or cousin or mother who had
it worse. The last thing I need to hear right now is that it is possible to
have this happen six times, or that I could carry until two days before my
due-date and labor 20 hours for a dead baby. These stories frighten and
horrify me and leave me up at night weeping in despair. Even if they have a
happy ending, do not share these stories with me. |
| Don't pretend it didn't happen and don't change the subject when I bring
it up. If I say, "Before the baby died Š" or "when I was pregnant Š" don't get
scared. If I'm talking about it, it means I want to. Let me. Pretending it
didn't happen will only make me feel utterly alone. |
| Don't say, "It's not your fault." It may not have been my fault, but it
was my responsibility and I failed. The fact that I never stood a chance of
succeeding only makes me feel worse. This tiny little being depended upon me
to bring him safely into the world and I couldn't do it. I was supposed to
care for him for a lifetime, but I couldn't even give him a childhood. I am so
angry at my body you just can't imagine. |
| Don't say, "Well, you weren't too sure about this baby, anyway." I already
feel so guilty about ever having complained about morning sickness, or a child
I wasn't prepared for, or another mouth to feed that we couldn't afford. I
already fear that this baby died because I didn't take the vitamins, or drank
too much coffee, or had alcohol in the first few weeks when I didn't know I
was pregnant. I hate myself for any minute that I had reservations about this
baby. Being unsure of my pregnancy isn't the same as wanting my child to die -
I never would have chosen for this to happen. |
| Do say, "I am so sorry." That's enough. You don't need to be eloquent. Say
it and mean it and it will matter. |
| Do say, "You're going to be wonderful parents some day," or "You're
wonderful parents and that baby was lucky to have you." We both need to hear
that. |
| Do say, "I have lighted a candle for your baby," or "I have said a prayer
for your baby." Do send flowers or a kind note - every one I receive makes me
feel as though my baby was loved. Don't resent it if I don't respond. Don't
call more than once and don't be angry if the machine is on and I don't return
your call. If we're close friends and I am not responding to your attempts to
help me, please don't resent that, either. Help me by not needing anything
from me for a while. |
If you're my boss or my co-worker:
| Do recognize that I have suffered a death in my family - not a medical
condition. |
| Do recognize that in addition to the physical aftereffects I may
experience, I'm going to be grieving for quite some time. Please treat me as
you would any person who has endured the tragic death of a loved one - I need
time and space. |
Please don't bring your baby or toddler into the workplace. If your niece is
pregnant, or your daughter just had a baby, please don't share that with me
right now. It's not that I can't be happy for anyone else, it's that every
smiling, cooing baby, every glowing new mother makes me ache so deep in my heart
I can barely stand it. I may look okay to you, but there's a good chance that
I'm still crying every day. It may be weeks before I can go a whole hour without
thinking about it. You'll know when I'm ready - I'll be the one to say, "Did
your daughter have her baby?" or, "How is that precious little boy of yours? I
haven't seen him around the office in a while."
Above all, please remember that this is the worst thing that ever happened to
me. The word "miscarriage" is small and easy. But my baby's death is monolithic
and awful. It's going to take me a while to figure out how to live with it. Bear
with me.
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