What to Say

I am so blessed and fortunate. I hear anecdotes all the time of people saying "the wrong thing" to someone who has suffered a pregnancy loss. I've also read other blogs on the topic of miscarriage, many of which include a list of "what not to say," which is often copy/pasted from another blog. I've read that list and agreed with it a little bit, but I find my reactions to vary somewhat from others', and for that reason, I'm going to compose my own list. But first, I need to explain a few things.

A few short weeks ago, I had no idea what I would have said to someone who's had a miscarriage, beyond "I'm so sorry." Well, it turns out, that's one of the best things things I've been told, besides "you're in my/our thoughts and/or prayers." What I want people to understand is that there's nothing that can be said, no statement to wrap up the grief in a neat little package, to make everything better. That's the nature of miscarriage: there was nothing I did to cause it, there was nothing I could do to stop it, and now there's nothing that can be done to erase the loss. Even though I continue to feel better and may eventually feel no more sorrow, the loss still happened. I will always have one baby that was never born.

Before I launch into my list, I want to make clear that no one who said anything to me or Erich made us feel worse. There are certain things that make us feel better, but no well-intentioned person said anything to worsen our state. (This is mostly a sort of disclaimer to stop anyone we know who is reading this wondering if you said "the wrong thing." You didn't.)

What NOT to say:

• "Get over it." or any variation thereof. This definitely tops the list of insensitive things to say. It would be far, far better to say nothing.
• "There was probably something wrong with the baby." In the majority of miscarriages, this may be true. The baby probably had some kind of chromosomal defect. But offering this statement as comfort is tantamount to saying the parents would have loved a disabled child less. Unless the fetus was tested and a profound chromosomal disorder was found, this statement does not offer much comfort. Furthermore, in my case, there is a very good chance that nothing was wrong with the baby, so I don't want to hear it.
  

What is not very harmful, but doesn't really help either:

• "It's all part of God's plan." I consider myself a devout Christian. Lutheran, specifically. I believe that God is loving and powerful, but I do not believe that God planned for my baby to die. Good has come out of this situation and good things will happen that couldn't have happened otherwise, but my baby died as a result of sin in the world. The new "Christian Lite" Evangelical idea of God having a plan for me that extends to my finances and friendships and weight loss endeavors--I think it's all fluff, and its rhetoric turns me off. It's best avoided.
• "It wasn't meant to be." Similar to the above. Not harmful, but not very helpful. Who says it wasn't meant to be? In any case, I'm still very sad and disappointed. Why couldn't I keep that baby? "It wasn't meant to be" doesn't answer the question.
  
• "At least you can get pregnant." This does help a little, but not a lot. Yes I can get pregnant, but can I stay pregnant? The jury's still out on that one.
• "I know how you feel." I truly believe that the people who have said this to me believe it to be true. On the baby-loss aspect, I'm right there with them. But now I just want to say, "Really, do you have a weird uterus that caused your miscarriage?" They know how the loss feels, but they don't know how I feel.
• "I'm sure you'll go on to have many children." Do you know that, really? I believe it in my heart, but I still have doubts. Legitimate ones.
• "It could have been worse." Yes, it could have. I think a later loss or stillbirth might be worse. But it's not very helpful to minimize my grief. And it's the worst thing I've experienced, so let's not introduce the possibility that something worse could happen in the future, k?
  

What to say:

• "I'm so sorry."
  
• "I'm thinking about you."
• "You're in my prayers." This experience has taught me the power of prayer. There were times when I felt no strength to carry on, but I did anyway. I attribute this to faith and prayer.
• "Is there anything I can do?" Erich and I found in the first few days that we had no motivation to cook. I appreciated going to my parents' house for meals, getting asked out to breakfast with my sister-in-law, whatever could keep me from doing the mundane things like cooking that seemed so difficult.
  
• "It's okay, let it out." Or any variation. I appreciate my grief being acknowledged, and though it's not all I want to talk about, I don't want to be avoided. It is a little surprising how little miscarriage is talked about, considering how common it is.
  

Thank you, everyone, for your thoughts and prayers! Those help the most. :)