Tonight, I went to our local chapter of M.E.N.D — a pregnancy loss support meeting. And you know what? People are saying the same old ignorant, hurtful things to women having a pregnancy loss as they did when I first had mine — and probably have said since the dawn of time.
I know I can’t prevent every single woman out there from having to hear these hurtful comments. But I sure can do my part to spread awareness.
So if you come across any woman who has lost a baby at ANY stage in pregnancy or following birth — please do the universe a massive favor, and steer clear of saying any of these five things. (Or anything that even closely resembles them.)
#5 — At least you were early.
Maybe you truly feel that you are doing this woman a favor to remind her that her body was unable to carry a baby past 12 weeks, or past her second trimester, or even to term.
But can I let you in on a little secret?
First, there is no “at least” with loss. None. So, umm. Stop saying that.
Second, from the moment that second line appeared, that mom had feelings about that baby. She not only had feelings, but something — a very big something — has changed in her life. Forever. No going back. No going back even with a loss. That baby changed everything for her. From the moment she knew it existed.
And losing that baby changed her forever too.
Life and death? It happened. So stop making it sound like it’s no big deal.
And third — sometimes an earlier loss is even HARDER to process. In part because of a lack of support due to their loss being so “early.”
#4 — I know exactly how you feel.
Actually, you don’t. Because I don’t even know exactly how I feel.
One moment I think I’m OK. The next moment I’m balling my eyes out because of some silly little thing triggered my grief — walking past the baby aisle, driving by the hospitals, eating something I last ate the day we lost the baby. And then 10 minutes later, something makes me smile. A sunset. A flower. A text from a friend.
I feel like a kaleidoscope of emotions — always changing with each turn.
I really don’t care if our losses were the same. So you had a miscarriage too? OK. Chances are, the way I felt about my baby differed from you. The way I feel about pregnancy probably differs. And the way I feel about our loss differs.
If you want to relate, if you want to empathize — by all means do. Just don’t tell me that you know exactly how I feel. Unless, you know — you are God. (And God, if you are reading this, then please chime in.)
#3 — You could always try again.
*sigh*
I get that if you have a flat tire on your car, it makes sense to go get another one. You lost your coat? Then go shopping for a new one. Outgrow your house? Hit up Zillow or Redfin.
But PEOPLE? People are not replaceable.