I wrote this days after miscarrying at home. Emotions were high for me. I was still raging with hormones my body no longer needed. But I needed to write something because I knew at some point I would be ready to share the journey I never asked to walk.
To the 1 in 4 mommas, I hope while reading this, you know you’re not alone. This journey is hard. It’s heartbreaking. But we live to see another day. And we pray for the babies we will someday hold.
To the friends and family walking beside the 1 in 4 – I hope you read this and know how to lift up the grieving momma in your life. Unless you have walked that road, you truly can not relate and that might be difficult for you. Below are ways that you can help, though.
1 in 4.
One in four expecting mothers will read a positive pregnancy test and heart explode in excitement only to have that same heart ache a few short weeks later.
One. In. Four.
It’s truly a statistic I prayed I would never be apart of. One that I hoped I could never relate to. One that I was happy looking in on from the side lines as mommas talked about their rainbow baby.
But the Lord has other plans for me. For my family. For a someday rainbow baby.
On Tuesday, December 31st I knew something was wrong. As much I wanted my gut and the fear for the worse enneagram 6 girl in me to be wrong, I knew deep down my worse fear was coming true. I wanted to believe something else. Hope for a different answer.
Thursday, January 2nd around 3:30 pm, a midwife called me and gave me the news my heart already knew. Our sweet baby that we saw at 6 weeks with a heartbeat was no longer alive and growing in my belly
I was so frustrated. I kept thinking “But we saw a heartbeat. Our baby’s heart was beating inside it’s chest! We were in the clear!!!!”
I bought the baby book. I taped our sonogram photo of our baby in the book. I bought the cute elephant baby blankets. I bought the stuffed elephant. I marked my planner with our estimated due date. I was planning out my short maternity leave in the middle of wedding season. A short leave that was suppose to be full of newborn snuggles, bonding, and loving on Charlotte as she learned to be a big sister.
This wasn’t supposed to be our story. This wasn’t suppose to be the way we were going to start a new decade.
No one can prepare a mother for a miscarriage. And the process of what a miscarriage looks like just isn’t talked about. It’s a traumatic experience. It’s really messy. It’s emotionally fucking exhausting.
So in true Loren fashion – I’m grieving and processing my pain by trying to help others.
Family and friends that have never walked this journey simply do not know how to relate and help a grieving mother. So I thought I would share what I’ve experienced in the last week.
How to support a grieving mother who is miscarrying
- If your friend or family member has children, don’t ask, just come pick up the child(ren). There was a point on Friday when I was in the worse part of my miscarriage that if I would had told my mom “yes – please come get Charlotte” it would had made things so much easier. When I needed josh the most, he could had been 100% focused on me instead of trying to make sure Charlotte was occupied before helping me at my worse.
- Give them space to tell you the TMI details. Listen. Let them pour their heart out. Don’t pry for details though. If they want to share with you their heart, they will. Don’t judge them or tell them to stop sharing. I’m so thankful for my friends and my sister-in-law that I could be real with.
- Bring them a coffee, tea, hot meal, box of tissues. Let them know you’re thinking of them.
- Check on them. Again – you don’t want to pry, but ask how they are doing. They’ll appreciate you care about them enough to take time out of your day to ask how they are.
- Remember their baby with them. A piece of jewelry with the baby’s birthday stone, there are a some willow tree figurines for under $25 on Amazon, and even some simple necklaces you could purchase and send to them.
- If your friend doesn’t ask for help on a good day, follow your gut and do something for them without asking. I can promise you, they’ll appreciate the help.
Friends that have miscarried – I’m sorry I didn’t know how to help you. I’m sorry I didn’t better support you. I simply had no idea the pain you were carrying. I pray that you have found peace and are holding your rainbow baby in your arms today.