things not to say to me

Or to anyone suffering the loss of their baby. It's amazing to me the things people say when they think they are being helpful. Since this is a continual topic on a message board I frequent and often comes up in chats with friends who have also miscarried, I figured it was worth putting this totally non-comprehensive list out there. My hope is that it will help you (whoever y'all are who are taking the time to read this) from inadvertently saying something hurtful to someone when they most need support. Off the top of my head:

1. You're young! Hmm. That's great to know, and I get the intent behind this one (you've got plenty of time). Unless you are my doctor (and I doubt you are because he's far to busy with his three gazillion patients to read my blog, but from him it meant a lot because he assured me we have approximately 12 years before he's even mildly concerned) I don't want to hear this. Our age is entirely unrelated to the grief we are feeling right now.

2. Relax! It will happen! So-and-so adopted and then she was so relaxed that they got pregnant! Relax! Right. YOU go through losing two beloved little babies, two surgeries, and countless sleepless nights of worry and wonder and then YOU freakin' relax. Relaxation does not = pregnancy. Ovulation predictor tests and timed boinking and voodoo chants while standing on one's head does. Duh.

3. At least you know you can get pregnant! Here's another "unless you are my doctor" rule. It's not super comforting to know you can get pregnant when your babies aren't making it for whatever reason. Plus, I doubt infertile women appreciate the insinuation that they are everyone's worst case scenario ("hey, at least you're not INFERTILE like THAT LADY!")

4. It's God's will. Okay, are you TRYING to make me angry at God? Or make God the bad guy here? Because I'd rather not sit here thinking that God is the bad guy in this situation (He isn't). I've never questioned my own faith more than I have through these miscarriages. When you become pregnant, everyone is quick to tell you how "blessed" you are. Then when you lose that pregnancy, you're left to wonder what you did to "unbless" yourself. After hearing the "God's will" line over and over again, I started to truly believe our first miscarriage had happened because I hadn't gone to church enough and my 20+ daily prayers for our babies health wasn't quite enough to get His attention. I doubt that's the truth, and it's not good for my spirit to have to wonder about that.

5. It's natures way or the biggest whopper I've heard- you wouldn't want a retarded baby. I don't know that a lot of explanation is necessary here. Just don't go here. It's offensive (to us and to anyone raising a handicapped child), it's beside the point, and it's most certainly not comforting.

6. You can have another one. Fantastic, really, that is fantastic (no sarcasm- I mean that). BUT- right now it's not another one we want. We want that one. The one we lost and miss. Another one won't fill the hole in our heart, that will always be there to some extent. This is tantamount to telling a woman who has just lost her husband that she can have another husband. See?

7. I know how you feel. Unless you've been through this, you don't. You're better off saying "I'm sad for you, and I'm here for you". Now, if you HAVE been through this, preach on, sister!

8. Time heals. One of the best lessons we've learned through our support group is that time alone has basically nada to do with healing. Since my first miscarriage, I've spoken to many women who have suffered similar losses. Whether it happened last week or 30 years ago, they still hurt, they still cry when they talk about it, they still remember what color shoes they had on the day they got the news or what the moments of their miscarriages entailed. Time doesn't heal. It makes hurts easier to accept, it brings distractions and happiness and peace that lessen the pain, but the loss of a baby is always there in a parent's heart.

9. Nothing at all. The most hurt J and I felt were from people we thought we were close to who chose to ignore our miscarriages entirely. Needless to say, these aren't people we are close to any more, nor are they people who will know about our future pregnancy(s) until little Habib is on his way to kindergarten. To ignore a loss like this is to say it doesn't matter, to us or to you. I get that it's an uncomfortable topic and some people are afraid of the raw emotion accompanying this kind of loss. I get that some people feel it will hurt me or us to talk about it. But ignoring the loss does not make it less of a reality for us.

10. I drank the last Diet Coke. Just ask J or RoomieG. This one's got nothing to do with miscarriage, but it has everything to do with whether I want to kick you in the shins or not.

Lest this newest posting come off as entirely negative, I don't mean it to be so! I just realized today how often this topic is discussed among those of us who have miscarried. I'd love to make another list of all the great things people have said to us or done for us since our losses, but that would take too long and get too all too mushy for my liking. And I've got dogs to feed and clothes to wash and a final support group meeting to attend. For now, I'll leave this at that.