The miscarriage underground

I’ve written about the preemie underground before, after I had a daughter three months early due to pre-eclamsia. There are all kinds of things, from ways to tell a preemie from a non-preemie to knowing the various medical terminology, codes and NICU culture. You never think about this at all until it affects you.

It looks like the same thing could be said for the miscarriage underground. I’ve heard friends and family members mention miscarriages before, but never at length—and usually in minor detail or brief passing. It’s never met with the same feelings of sorrow and empathy as a death is because it’s not a death to anyone but the mother (and maybe the father). In fact, that’s how I’ve been describing the miscarriage that I just had last week—a death of a person only I knew and loved, a feeling of loneliness and despair that nobody seems to be able to put a name on or know how to really deal with.

We have no societal rituals for the loss of almost-babies. In fact, ten or twenty years ago I wouldn’t have even known I was pregnant; today’s tests are just so early and accurate. Did you know that 1 out of every 5 pregnancies ends in a miscarriage? Most women have at least one—so why don’t we talk about it or know what to do with these feelings we have?

I have no idea what to say, except that I’m sorry, to people who have miscarriages in their lives, and now I get that it’s like death; there’s nothing you can say, or do, to really make it better. While I had dozens of friends congratulate me on the pregnancy itself, only a handful expressed condolences. I don’t blame or expect anything from anyone—I only note that it’s much easier to congratulate than to know what to do when something like this occurs.

I’ve had flippant advice—better that than the loss of you yourself, have some ice cream, etc.—that makes me want to scream, like it trivializes my loss. But on the other hand, at six weeks, should I feel this kind of loss? Am I really making too much of a big deal over a maybe-baby that may or may not have had a heartbeat yet?

No, I don’t think so. Not if my heart and my gut are agonized like this. One friend, a friend who had miscarriages too, advised me that every person feels differently and every person has to cope with this in his or her own way, and I know she’s right. I think I’m doing it well. I’m caring for Wood Sprite, working, going through the daily motions. I wonder when the grief will stop creeping up on me and making me startle and cry at the oddest moments, though, and if there’s something out there that might bring me some kind of closure.

Photo courtesy of Wikipedia