When you’re in your third trimester, everyone knows you’re pregnant and talks to you about it.
When you have a newborn, you go to the grocery store and other folks peek into the car seat to see your teeny tiny sleeping bundle of joy.
When you lose a pregnancy, no one around you can tell what’s going in your life by looking at you.
You have to say the words, those painful words, if you want to share your news with others.
Since today is National Pregnancy & Infant Loss Remembrance Day, I wanted to explain why in the world I’ve shared about my miscarriages with strangers (people on the internet, not, uh, strangers at the grocery store).
When you’re open about something that’s not well understood by those who haven’t gone through it, you risk hearing unhelpful things, or worse, hurtful things. In an effort to comfort you, you’re told that you’re stressing too much, that at least you can get pregnant, that you’re young, that it’s common, that maybe you should change your diet, that maybe…maybe…maybe.
But despite opening myself up to that, so much more good has come out of it.
Why I’m open about miscarriages…
So others know they’re not alone
I get emails like these:
I had a miscarriage at the beginning of this month and stumbled upon your twitter account by accident last week. Your strength and courage each day has given me the guts to get up and get back to my life in the hopes of trying again. :) I couldn’t go another day without telling you that. I hope so much that everything works out for you. Thanks for your courage and for sharing your story for everyone to read. It’s not an easy story to tell.
And so many comments, DMs, and messages thanking me for being open. Telling me that I was helping by sharing.
I take great comfort in knowing I’m not alone. In hearing the stories of others. In knowing that I’m not a freak for being 28 years old with two consecutive miscarriages and having hope that someday I’ll welcome a second child.
So others know how loss feels and how to empathize
We haven’t struggled with infertility, but reading countless blogs of women who are open about their infertility and following others on Twitter who are honest and blunt has helped me be a better friend. It has helped me understand what helps and what doesn’t, how it feels, and what they’re going through. Similarly, I hope my openness about pregnancy loss gives others a sense of what it’s like. No, you can’t fully understand how much something hurts until it happens to you, but you can get a good idea.
So if reading about my miscarriages has helped even one person to feel more able to be there for a friend experiencing loss, it was worth being vulnerable.
Look, I get it, it’s scary stuff. It can be weird and hard to say, “I am so sorry you’re going through this” to a friend. But not saying anything hurts so much more.
So others know they can talk to me if they ever go through this
Because I’ve shared about my own pregnancy loss, I hope my friends and family who go through losses know they can come to me for support and understanding in the future. There is a club of women who have experienced the disappointment, heart ache, and loss and they have gotten me through this. It’s a crappy club to belong to, but it’s supportive and uplifting. I hope I can be the same for others. (Though I hope more that no one I love experience this.)
Because it helps.
When someone says, “You’re so brave to share!” I think, “I don’t know how to go through something like this and not share.”
I process through writing, I take comfort in community. It only makes sense that I process and reach out for support through sharing.
It also helps when others articulate how I’m feeling. Reading someone’s story of loss and the feelings that accompanied it was cathartic in those early weeks. Again it was the, “I’m not alone” relief combined with the “Yes. Exactly. You get it.” feelings.
Even today, I watched this and cried. It can be unpredictable when the Feelings hit, but it helps when others are open.
So I try to be open.
I’m not sure why we’re not more open as a society about pregnancy loss.
I’m afraid of making you uncomfortable with my vulnerability, I suppose.
I felt the same way after my miscarriage last year. Writing is how I process things, I couldn’t NOT blog about it. Actually, one of the things that helped me through it was reading Kathleen’s experience! When I was open about it in my “real” life, I was shocked how many friends and even family members had had had miscarriages I knew nothing about. I don’t know why we’re not more open about it either …
Oh, Ashley. Thank you for this post. And for the link to that video. I sobbed, and I cannot seem to stop the tears from flowing. I, too, try to be very open. It is unfortunate that I know so many people who have also suffered stillbirths or miscarriages. I’m thankful not that those things happened to me, but that I can help support those who have dealt with it. If in some way I can help others through their difficult times, I wish to do it. Thank you for posting this.
I felt the exact same way after my miscarriage, which is why I shared so openly. At that point I really had no idea it was so common and I was blindsided by its effects on me (physical and emotional). I wish I had been able to talk to someone about it beforehand who had been through something similar.
Being vulnerable and open to sharing the hard stuff gives others permission to do the same. It makes the world a more loving, compassionate place. I share my story and heartache for the same reasons you do and appreciate you so much for your honesty.
xo
I’ve never experienced a miscarriage, but I appreciate you sharing your experience. I agree with others, it does take bravery to share these things. To be vulnerable and reach out to others, in spite of your pain. I’ve heard that from people who call me brave for talking about abuse. The truth is…I can’t NOT talk about it. I heal by talking about it…and helping others heal. Brave or not, it’s what I have to do.
Thanks for your vulnerability and strength.
xo,
A
In the age of people’s polished, social-media-ready posts about their perfect lives, it is always good to bring more honesty and openness to the conversation.
Well said, Melanie. And so very, very true.
Thank you for talking about it. There’s no shame, right?
Thank you oh so much for this. I’ve been open about our struggles to conceive and miscarriage (chemical pregnancy, whatever you want to call it) to my internet friends but quiet almost everywhere else. I don’t know if my family even knows we’re trying to start a family. The Mr’s family does but doesn’t know about the recent loss. I never thought I’d be in this position… Almost a year and one miscarriage/chemical pregnancy later and this is still a work in progress…
You are so brave to share, as I know it can be hard but I hope that you do know HOW much it truly helps others. My best friend had a miscarriage two years ago during her first pregnancy. I read so many blogs in my quest to support her, and I pointed her towards several of them so that she would feel like she had some online support. She is not a “blog person” like me but I know that she read them often and she would often quote something someone had said to me.
I have not had a miscarriage, but I do find it really strange that the time we are most quiet about pregnancy is in the first trimester and yet, it’s the hardest, hardest time (at least I’m hoping!). I felt so alone on days when I needed to lift something heavy, but I knew I shouldn’t be…or I felt like I was going to throw up at any moment etc. These experiences don’t come close to having a pregnancy loss I know, so I can’t even imagine how hard that must be. Later in pregnancy it feels like support is EVERYWHERE, and that’s because people know. I am happy that you were honest about your miscarriages so that people could support you in any way they can do. And of course, as I said- you have helped so many OTHER people by being honest.
Here’s to hoping there is nothing but good news to share from here on out. Thank you for being strong and brave in the meantime :)
When someone says, “You’re so brave to share!” I think, “I don’t know how to go through something like this and not share.”
YES.
All of this yes. I’m so glad you’ve shared your journey both the ups and the downs. Although like you said it sucks to be in the same club with people it’s also wonderful to be bonded by your experiences and by people that will listen.
You are a rock star friend, don’t ever forget it. xo
You are wonderful, Ashley. I agree with everything you wrote (though you said it all more beautifully than I would have). I feel like it’s just a nice way to pay it forward, as odd as that sounds. I know it feels good to support others after all the support I got. Makes it feel like the tough times had a purpose in a way.
As someone who has a heart that hurts for my (far too many) friends who have gone through these kinds of losses, I appreciate you sharing. I have shared your link with many a-friend both online and IRL. I will again say that you are a kind, brave, beautiful and generous soul in so many ways and the fact that you writing helps others and helps you? Well I think that’s why we have blogging, sometimes. You never make me feel uncomfortable with what you write and how you share it. xo
Being in the blogging community has really opened my eyes to miscarriages and infertility. I’m 26 and throughout my life, none of my family members or friends has been pregnant or tried to get pregnant. I really had no idea how common it could be and how heartbreaking it is. Sharing your story really does educate people more than you think – it made me realize that the whole idea of planning out your life and saying “I’ll have a baby at age ___” isn’t always as easy as snapping your fingers and being done with it. Thank you for sharing your story.
AMEN!
When someone says, “You’re so brave to share!” I think, “I don’t know how to go through something like this and not share.”
Yes. THIS. That video made me cry too! Love you so much!
I haven’t ever had a miscarriage so I won’t even pretend to know what that is like. But I appreciate your honesty and openness about yours. I think it is important for women to talk about these things, even if it is hard, because even if you can just reach 1 person, you’ve at least help one. That’s why I talk openly about our infertility issues. So many people are going through something similar to what you’re going through, and we need community. We need safe places to belong and feel like we’re not freaks.
This post is great, and you are great. I’m really glad you shared. And I appreciate that by sharing, you opened up the opportunity for this bloggy community–who loves you so much–to do our best to support you through this. Xo.
Beautiful post. I have suffered a m/c in 2009 and it was lonely and difficult and people don’t want to talk about it, because “it happens a lot”. I admire your courage and thoughtfulness in writing such a good post on the subject. Sending you lots of positive thoughts.
I’ve been meaning to write this for ages. I am also 28 and, over Labor Day weekend, I had my third miscarriage (I had two consecutive ones at 25 before I had my daughter, who is now almost two and a half). While I was going through that, for some reason, I found my way to your blog (sidebar: I used to be a loyal reader, but Feedly didn’t transfer my subscription. Fail! At least it’s fixed now!), and almost immediately started reading about your miscarriages. I am so, so sorry that you have had to go through this, Ashley. It is so sucktastic, every time, and I know that I found the not-knowing what (if anything) was wrong both draining and frustrating. Please know that, for the last month, I’ve been sending you hugs from Pennsylvania, and that, even though I’d been through it before, reading your words last month helped me feel less alone. Thank you. Xo.
I’m going to echo the sentiments of Akirah in saying that I also appreciate your vulnerability and strength in sharing your experiences <3
When I had my first miscarriage back in 2008, I had never heard a single person my age (29) talk about it–and others were surprised when they heard me say the “M- word” out loud when the subject came up. But I promised myself I would never treat miscarriage/repeat pregnancy loss as something to hide, because from the moment I saw a second pink line, I loved that baby (and the two I lost later) just as I loved the babies who fortunately made it through a full term pregnancy(-ies). And I figured if I could help even one other woman who was going through something similar, for me that was the best way to turn life’s lemons into lemonade.
In the five years since my first miscarriage, many people I know both online and in real life have experienced miscarriages, and although it will always suck that it’s so common, I’m glad to see it becoming less and less of a “taboo” topic. It truly takes courage to talk about things that hurt, so I’m grateful to you for sharing your experiences and writing about it so eloquently. Of course, I wish you knew nothing about it, I wish that with all my heart. And everyone has to grieve and heal in their own ways, but your writing is your tribute, and it is a beautiful one. By putting your heart out there you are making those little lives count. (They will always count, so very very much.) xoxo
The world needs more people who are willing to be open and vulnerable. It is through this that we advance and make these topics less taboo and more safe to talk about. Not only is it brave – it’s authentic! And it helps so many people. Think of the number of people who have reached out to you, whether by blog comment, tweet or email. Now multiply that by 10. That’s really the amount of people you’ve helped. There are so many who don’t have the strength to even reply and say “thank you – this has helped me!” because they’re so raw with hurt that they can’t. But it gets to them, and that’s what counts. Thank you so much for sharing. I hope our love (albeit from far away and digital!) can be felt by you, Mike and Gabe. XO
Thank you for this, for telling me it’s okay to talk about it. Yesterday would have been baby’s first birthday, and not a day goes by I don’t think about what could have been. The doctor I had was terrible, when I came in to see him, pale-faced and bleeding. He said it was normal and natural at that early stage (6 weeks), and nothing to cry about as I’m still young. It made me feel like it was so trivial, like baby didn’t matter at all, but he did. Your words, and everyone else’s here in the comments section, validates that he did. Thank you again x