At the Risk of Staying Silent

How silence can induce shame after a pregnancy loss

Silence as Shame

After my second miscarriage, I asked my doctor, “why doesn’t anyone talk about this? Why didn’t anyone tell me this could happen?” Part of me felt silly for asking it: isn’t this something I should have been aware of before I got pregnant? But, in my blissful ignorance, I believed it was uncommon.

The doctor answered, “because most women go on to have a healthy, normal pregnancy. A miscarriage becomes simply a blip on the radar.” In the moment, I understood what she was saying. But as I reflected on this, as I was in the midst of my miscarriage, it felt much more than a blip.

Whether a miscarriage is simply a medical blip, or we experience recurrent loss, the shroud of silence is perpetuated by how we conceptualize loss. From the moment we get pregnant, we are taught to stay silent about our pregnancy until the end of the first trimester, since the first trimester has the highest rate of miscarriage.  This culturally expected silence implies that no one wants to hear about your loss if it happens; people only want to celebrate, not mourn. This simple act of remaining silent immediately leaves us vulnerable to feelings of shame. If I’m told to stay silent in case I have a miscarriage, what happens when I do have a miscarriage? By not implicitly allowing pregnant individuals to share their news, we are perpetuating the intensity of shame, which then we are also expected to be silent about.