"At Least You Know You Can Get Pregnant"
And other invalidating things people say to us after a pregnancy loss
When my cousin, Ashley, was diagnosed with terminal cancer, my family held her hand, cried with her, helped her feel comfortable in her final days. When she died, there was an outpouring of love: We are so sorry for your loss. There are simply no words to describe this tragedy. I’m here for you.
Now, Ashley had an amazing sense of humor. And she would be the first to say that if people spoke about her death the way they spoke about our baby losses, we would never speak to them again.
Can you imagine someone approaching me at Ashley’s memorial service and saying, “it will all be OK. You have three other cousins.” Or, “If you just relax, you’ll feel better.” Or, “At least it happened when she was young.”
None of these are appropriate to say in any situation, and yet, in pregnancy loss, we are bombarded with insensitive, tone deaf, dismissive, invalidating responses repeatedly.
As a recurrent pregnancy loss survivor, the most common one I hear is, “at least you know you can get pregnant.” Every time José and I tried to conceive, we were pregnant within three months. Our problem wasn’t getting pregnant. Our problem was staying pregnant. And by pregnancy loss #4, I was sick of hearing that “at least I could get pregnant,” because ultimately, it didn’t matter if I could get pregnant or not. I started responding: “What good is getting pregnant if I can’t keep the baby?”
In the depths of our pain and grief, the last thing we have energy for is to teach others how to respond empathically and with kindness. It is not our responsibility to teach others in this moment, and yet, there have been many times when I’ve been proud of my responses.
This is just nature’s way of expelling something that isn’t viable for life. Thank you, Doctor. But a woman going through her fourth miscarriage is very aware of that. This will be a blip on your medical radar. I understand that in the future, but it doesn't feel like a blip right now. At least it happened early before you could get attached. I wrote my baby letters every day, and spoke to my baby. I felt pretty attached and hopeful. Would you like my child? They are driving me crazy! No, I would love to have my own child though. And I would love for them to drive me crazy.
It’s not your responsibility in your time of loss. But sometimes, your responses can be the biggest act of self-love we can provide ourselves.
Later this week, I’ll be exploring this further in our paid subscription! Subscribe now to read more once it’s released.
This Week on The Miscarriage Therapist podcast
This week, I’m doing a solo episode on anxiety after a pregnancy loss, and providing coping skills to support you through that experience.
Coming up: Ask Me Anything! In the next few weeks, I’ll be doing an Ask Me Anything episode. Send me your questions, comments, concerns, anything! I’ll be answering your questions on the podcast, so get them in soon. You can respond to this message, post in the comments below, or send me a message on Instagram: @themiscarriagetherapist.
What I’m Reading and Watching
Enchantment: Awakening Wonder in an Anxious Age, by Katherine May.
I have been very excited about Katherine May’s newest book! In this book, she identifies seemingly small, simple action steps, that can enliven us, provide hope, and connect us. While I am only half-way through the book, this is the book I needed to read right now. You can also follow her on Substack.
Ted Lasso, Season 3: There hasn’t been an episode where I don’t leave feeling calm, content, and grounded. Who knew I would fall in love with television show about a soccer team?
If you’re here, you might be hurting. You might be grieving. You might feel lost, alone, and confused. Your pregnancy loss might be recent, or it might have happened a few years ago. You might be here to support someone you love. Whatever your reason for being here, I’m thinking of you in this tragic, challenging, sad, anxious, confusing time.