Nine years ago today we lost our first baby. Every time June rolls around I feel like I should share that with you. But I haven’t because I don’t know how to talk about it in a blog post.
If we were sitting across from each other enjoying a cup of coffee or a glass of wine, I would tell you anything you want to know about the little life we lost.
But in a blog post? I don’t know. Maybe it’s just too personal. Honestly, I can’t even bring myself to post the ultrasound photo here, but I would gladly show it to you in person.
So I started thinking about the minimum of what I would want you to know about having a miscarriage. Because I do think it’s worth bringing up.
You are certain to know someone who has gone through it or will go through it, even if they don’t tell you about it.
In fact, yesterday alone I learned about two friends experiencing losses.
And in my grieving process, people (well-meaning, I am sure of it) said things that felt like sledgehammers to my heart.
To be fair, looking back I know of at least one instance when I said something to a friend who was having a miscarriage that makes me cringe now.
It hadn’t happened to me yet. I didn’t know how much my well-meaning words could hurt.
There are wonderful blog posts out there that go through what to say, what to do, and most importantly what NOT to say to a woman having a miscarriage, and you should read them (especially this one).
What I want you to know about having a miscarriage is this:
- This wasn’t a mass of cells and tissue, this was a baby. Our baby. If you ask me over that cup of coffee, I will tell you how I know that to be true.
- All I really wanted people to say was this: “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” That’s it.
- All I didn’t want people to say was anything that tried to explain why it happened, or that “at least it happened early on in the pregnancy.” Sledgehammers to my heart.
- When life moved on for everyone else, I wanted someone to remember that I was grieving. To ask me how I was doing.
So if you know someone going through this, be gentle. Don’t try to explain it away. Tell her you’re sorry. Give her a hug. And when life moves on, remember that part of her doesn’t.
I understand completely. This weekend seven years ago I lost my babe aswell and your top thing that you want people to know, I also know. Sending love and hugs your way xx
I’m so sorry Amy. XO
I also lost one of our babies, our first one, June 20, 2010. Four years ago and never forgotten, even after our son was born healthy two years after. Sometimes I tell friends with kids who haven’t felt that loss to pick a child they could live without! It’s impossible…. there will always be a “hole” in our family. I look forward to meeting my baby one day!
Exactly. I am so sorry for your loss. I am looking forward to that heavenly day too 🙂
I have three daughters. My last daughter was supposed to be a twin but the twin stopped living around week 6 or so…I never know if that is considered a miscarriage or not, and I feel bad saying it is since I never knew there were two until there wasn’t. I didn’t have any of the miscarriage experience since he/she was just reabsorbed by my body. I often think about what it would have been like…sorry for your loss and I hope this June is a great one for you.
Stephanie (LifeCreated)
I am so sorry. Thank you for posting this. I have many close friends who have lost babies, and I was always trying to find the ‘right’ thing to say. Deep down, I knew nothing I said would be ‘right.’ It is a gap in a family that will always be there.
Hugs.
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Important reminders. Thank you.
And I am so very deeply sorry for your loss.
I have five healthy children here with me and three that I lost before I knew them. March 4, 2006, April 24, 2011 and September 1, 2011. Those dates are engraved on my heart because it’s the day I lost them. I love the five I have here but I also love the ones in heaven and am their mother, too, and I miss them, sometimes so intensely that it still brings me to tears. They are irreplaceable. I know I’ll meet them some day.
This is an older entry of yours but I still felt the need to comment and say sorry. My mother lost my sister a few months in. She would have been 22 and even though she was just ‘a mass of cells’ (yes, people have said those things to me also when I talk about her), I grieve for her constantly. She should have been my best friend and I should have been out there protecting her. I had always wanted a sister. I think it’s important to let your children grieve as well and understand what happened (when they are older of course). My mother swept it under the rug and that always bothered me. I didn’t understand why we didn’t talk about her and now I believe it is because no one understood how she could grieve for someone who was never alive in her arms.
I can’t say that I know what you went through (and continue to go through) but I am glad that you decided to give us a glimpse of what it’s like to experience such a loss. I’m so sorry this happened to you and your husband.