Preface:
The reaction from the first post has been quite overwhelming. It has only added to what I already believed about the prevalence of miscarriage and other fertility issues. I have received emails, texts and hugs from people that were touched by the post or have experienced it.
It was strange for me, it was almost as if I was going through it again for 2 or 3 days after I published it. It brought back a lot of the emotion but it has been nice to see it being shared and hear of people sharing their stories with others.
Through Facebook analytics I know the post of my blog I put on my page had about 4 times more reach then any other post and more shares. However it still seems to be too sensitive or unfamiliar for many people as the engagements were about half of what I would expect based on engagements per 100 people reached. This has also added to my desire to bring it further into the public, to make it more comfortable for people to engage with.
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PART 2
I noticed more and more in the time immediately after the miscarriage how little it's talked about, how uncomfortable people are about it. I find the whole thing very strange.
Why do we prefer to talk about football and reality TV than what's really going on?
There were definitely times where I didn't want to talk about it, but often I felt as though it would be so much better if there was a context to talk about it openly.
It starts from the moment you find out you're pregnant. Who do you tell?
Sometimes nobody.
Until it's “safe”.
That magical 12 week mark. I've never understood why we put so much restraint on what we talk about publicly. Really, what's the big deal if you announce to the world you are 8 weeks, 6 weeks or even 4 weeks pregnant? When did it first start that you waited until it was almost certain?
What are we so afraid of that we don't want to have to tell people it didn't work out? Because I know from experience that those going through it could sure use the support.
I was ok with telling anyone I knew really but as Kate wanted to keep the pregnancy very quiet I obviously had to keep my mouth shut. But then once the miscarriage happens there's no one other than a handful of people to talk to. For Kate, and probably for most, it comes down to this: “What if I can't do it?”
“I can't tell people because if it doesn't work out I'll be seen as a failure, I'll be a failure”. Nurturing a baby in the womb has to be the highest level of femininity for a woman. To be unable to achieve it seems to make a woman doubt her very womanhood and I can see that it's not something people would want others thinking about them
There is a lot of guilt, feeling broken, shame about a seeming lack of fertility. It's uncomfortable to talk about. From the other side it's all the unknown, how do you talk to someone you can't relate to. It's easier to ignore it. Except it's not real life. Maybe we don't know how to listen.
As a woman Kate felt as though something must be wrong with her to have a miscarriage, she felt it was her translocation that made it happen. She felt very guilty about it and blamed herself for “not being able to give me a child”.
She would ask why I would stay with someone who couldn't have a baby. So much insecurity and uncertainty.
It's easy to see how it would be hard if everyone knew when the woman is coming from that perspective.
I am sure Kate is far from alone in feeling these feelings. To me it is a sign of where we are as a culture. We have no connection to and no trust in our body's wisdom. The female body's ability to know whether the life that grows inside it will be successful or not should be cherished, not hidden away from.
Our culture, particularly with social media now, leaves out the bad bits. We only see the best of others so when we go through bad times we feel alone. We feel like something is wrong with us because this doesn't happen to others.
So we hide it.
Because they wouldn't understand, because we can't be seen as the only ones struggling.
Except we are all struggling with something and to come back to miscarriage specifically, there are too many women out there who are blaming themselves and questioning their womanhood. Because we haven't heard from others, from our society or culture, that miscarriage is part of the whole process for many, possibly even most women.
It doesn't make you faulty or less of a woman, it is in fact the perfect response of your body to do what's right no matter how wrong it feels. We could even thank the body for making a call that we couldn't make consciously.
There will always be sadness, it is a big loss. But we could get rid of the guilt, uncertainty and self blame if we opened up about what was going on and shared with each other. If you don't blame your friend for her miscarriage it makes it harder to blame yourself for yours.
We found that of our closest friends and family who knew, there were those who were massively supportive and extremely helpful and those who didn't understand what to do or what to say. Personally I didn't really know myself how to talk or feel about it. Kate and I just got through the best we could.
It was obviously those that had been through something similar before that knew what to say (do you ever really know?) and how to be helpful. It was flowers and visits, almost daily asking how we were and even some home cooked meals which were amazing! There was not much cooking happening at the time.
Predictably those that hadn't had similar experiences didn't know where to begin and found it difficult to talk to us at all. I can put my hand up and say I specifically told most people that I didn't want to talk about it. I had no context either.
There were only a few times in my entire life to that point where I'd heard from women who had lost a baby and the only time I'd ever heard a woman talk about miscarriage was when I was in high school and an SSO told a few of us she had had 5 miscarriages. I don't remember anything specific that we said to her but we dismissed it as no big deal. We were 14 year old boys with no idea. I wish we offered her more respect.
So when I said I didn't want to talk about it, it was more a case of not knowing how to. For the unexperienced, they honoured my request and we didn't really hear from them. By the time I realised we could do with more support I didn't really know how to bring that up either.
It became a weird situation where Kate and I felt upset because we perceived our loss was not being acknowledged and I'm sure on the other side they just wanted to respect my wishes. Because they didn't understand or have any context for what we were going through, they didn't know what else to do.
There are many things in our culture that we have got wrong. The way we treat pregnancy and miscarriage is immature. Women feel fearful, guilty, uncertain, purposeless. Men are left out of the conversation altogether.
We can't keep going on with couples suffering in silence, with women who don't trust their bodies, with friends and family not knowing what to do.
We can do better. We can grow up as a culture and talk about it. It is so common and so natural, the only thing a couple should have to feel is sadness and the love and support of those around them. How amazing would it be if the doctors could direct you to a support network or an in-hospital counsellor or anything!
As I talked about in the first post, I'm hoping this series will help to open up that conversation a little more. If you've experienced a miscarriage, tell people about it, explain how you felt, what you experienced and what happened. It doesn't have to be a secret.
If you haven't had one, ask those closest to you if they've had any experience with miscarriage. It will surprise you how many people come forward and we can start to recognise it as a natural part of life.
If someone close to you has a miscarriage, please acknowledge it, no matter what they say to you! To have so much hope and excitement and then to lose it is heartbreaking. Also be careful of saying overly positive things like “Keep your chin up”, “You'll get another chance”, “Your time will come” or “You're still only young” too early on. They need to deal with the loss first.
After a while those messages can be a comfort. But as a friend all you have to do early on is be there. Cooking food is an amazing gesture and a saviour. Flowers and a card is always appreciated, a coffee and a chat, but even just a phone call, a text every couple days to see how they're going. Just listen. I was not overly successful at this but trying to help them understand it wasn't their fault, to reduce their guilt.
Sending flowers or a simple message are a couple ways you can show support
This one is really difficult, I do believe most women have some guilt, with the translocation Kate still blames herself entirely. However if we had a culture that looked after these women, talked openly about it and, most importantly, had ultimate trust in the human body's wisdom it would make a world of difference.
For the guys we are even less inclined to share, without the physical attachment the woman had, we don't really know how to deal. The number 1 priority for me was supporting Kate, so advice for friends of guys going through it (apart from the flowers!), everything above still applies. Although a beer instead of a coffee might work better (one of the few times it's ok!). And be prepared that your mate may very well cry, so let him.
Obviously when you announce your pregnancy publicy is an extremely personal choice but I feel there is nothing to lose and a lot of support and acceptance to gain by doing it as early as possible. It will create the miscarriage conversation by default as inevitably some pregnancies will end in miscarriage and hopefully help people see that they're not alone.
Since that miscarriage we have had another two. It has been a really tough road. After returning from an amazing trip to India, in December we found out we were pregnant for the second time. By early January we found out we had miscarried again, this time 6 weeks and 2 days. Again we were devastated, but we knew a bit better how to deal with it.
It did add a layer to Kate's insecurity about her ability to have a baby and her sense of guilt which made it challenging in a different way but I think we were better able to deal with the sense of loss. I don't think I took much time off at all, if any.
Kate immediately opted for the surgery this time and it was all over in a few days. We were hoping doing the surgery quickly would allow them enough tissue to test for the translocation. In one of the rare situations that went our way over this period, there was enough tissue. It came back positive for the translocation so we knew that was the reason for the second miscarriage.
I'm still not sure if that was a good outcome. On one hand it could mean when we do get an egg without the translocation it's likely to be a successful pregnancy. On the other hand, in Kate's mind it confirms her belief that she's “broken”. That really upsets me. I would do anything to have her believe in herself.
We received support from the same people the second time. We were less inclined to even tell the few that didn't know what to do. I didn't think it was a good idea but I think Kate felt we couldn't get upset about not being acknowledged if they didn't know. Eventually it came out, as these things tend to do and we got more of an acknowledgement, which was a bit of a relief really.
For the first two miscarriages we went through private health and they ended up costing a small fortune, so we had decided next time we'd go public. That didn't take too long.
This is part 2 of a 4 part series about my (and Kate's) experience of miscarriage. (Go to Part 3). I hope that with this series it shines a bit more light on a very natural part of life that for some reason we largely keep hidden. I am sharing as much as possible, the physical and emotional side of it because I don't want people to feel as lost as we did and I want everyone to understand what it means for someone to go through a miscarriage so you can support those close to you if they ever happen to go through it.
