So, About Miscarriage,

July 16, 2025

Did you know that about 25% of pregnancies in America end in miscarriage? Probably not, as it isn’t talked about until you, or someone close to you, experiences one. I myself hadn’t realized just how many women, or especially how many I know personally, have been through this grief and healing process until many of them reached out to me, comforting me after my own loss. It’s sparked so many questions in me as I’ve written and talked through my loss over the last five months. Why is it that we don’t commonly know how prominent an issue it is? Why is it that, when we do encounter a miscarriage, we don’t know what to expect, say, or do for support? What made the miscarriage of one’s child so taboo to ask about or discuss? I don’t know the origins of this loss becoming so hush-hush and secretive, but I can understand from an emotional standpoint why it remains so, and I hope to bring you along as I explain it.

Miscarriage is the loss of a pregnancy before 20 weeks gestation. I’ve experienced it, and it’s more than likely you know someone who has, too. Medical News Today states that the likelihood of experiencing a miscarriage varies depending on the stage of pregnancy and other factors. Overall, the risk of miscarriage is about 15-25% in known pregnancies. The risk is highest in the early stages of pregnancy, with the chance of miscarriage decreasing as the pregnancy progresses. For example, the risk of miscarriage at 6 weeks is 9.4%, and it decreases to 4.2% at 7 weeks. By 8 weeks, the risk is 1.5%. WebMD says that after week 14, the risk is 1% or less. The likelihood of having recurrent miscarriages (at least 2 or 3) is low, only occurring in about 1% of women, according to Healthline.

My Miscarriage Experience

When I didn’t hear that heartbeat on the doppler, and again felt the deafening silence on the ultrasound, it rocked my world and flipped it upside down. We didn’t know what to expect from the process, or how to process the emotions we were experiencing.

Normalcy bias had played a huge part in our miscarriage being missed for almost a month. Neither my mother or my husband’s mother have ever experienced one in their combined eighteen pregnancies, and we believed that none of our sisters had been through one, either, in their combined nine pregnancies. (Later, we heard about my sister’s first miscarriage, and soon after our own she experienced her second.) While I now can look back and see it as a blessing to have been blissfully unaware as my body caught up to reality, it did delay the grief and healing while also raising the risk of infection for me.

You can read my full pregnancy, birth, and initial healing experience here.

FAQs

Over the last week, I’ve reached out and asked several people in my life for their questions surrounding miscarriages and the experience of it as parents: the pregnancy, the birth, the healing, the grief, good or bad ways people have responded to learning of the miscarriage, what daily life is like now five months later, how I view pregnancy and children going forward, and how they could help someone going through it.

While I’m not a doctor or midwife, I’d like to try and make this post informational, aiming to break down some of the social taboo surrounding miscarriage while still remaining conscious of the pain couples go through. As such, I’ll be writing from my own experience and perspective. For both general knowledge and for those who may have just discovered their baby will be born without a heartbeat, I‘ve decided to include experiences from my second-trimester miscarriage at almost 18 weeks, paired with my sister’s first-trimester miscarriages at 5 weeks and 7 weeks.

While it’s important to recognize that every couple is different, and not all these answers will be universal, I’ve taken these questions and written up my replies to publish with this post. I hope that the information here will pave the way to helping more couples feeling seen and supported by their families and communities, giving others an idea of what they’re going through and how to help them.

Questions around Pregnancy

“How do you feel when others get pregnant around you?“

Seeing, hearing of, or knowing someone who is pregnant is bittersweet to me now. I am undeniably excited for them and want to celebrate with them, but there’s an ache in my chest that feels like a cavern around my heart. The closer I am to the woman, the more I relate to their pregnancy in due date or gender, and/or the more often I see them, the more likely it is that I struggle be around them, struggle to remain completely excited for their bundle of joy, and sometimes even find it difficult to look at them. I pray that it lessens with time, and there will come a day when I can be purely joyful as I used to, but I’ve so far had to check myself for jealousy and surrender it to Abba more than once.

“Are you afraid to get pregnant again? Do you worry you’ll miscarry again?”

Yes, to both halves of the question. Not as much as I thought I would be, but it does sit anxiously on my mind when I think about the scenario of seeing a positive pregnancy test again. I take it to mean I’m not ready to try again, although I don’t believe it will ever completely dissipate, and I will likely try again before the fear is gone. Abba can protect my children, and He is much wiser than we are in knowing the timing and circumstances. I do fully believe that I’ll have living children to raise someday.

questions around pre-term loss/Birth

“What are the warning signs of miscarriage?“

My sister’s first-trimester experience:

• Heavy bleeding (soaking more than one pad in one hour)
• Dizziness
• Fainting
• Fever
• Vision changes
• Severe headaches
• Any intense pain
• A basal temperature far below your pregnancy normal
  • Having progesterone cream ready and in the house could prevent a loss from low temperature if you’re fast in catching it. Rub a pea- to quarter-size amount across your belly. Continue to apply it once daily for the rest of your pregnancy, and get checked by your doctor as soon as you can for extra monitoring and advice.

My second-trimester experience:

• Spotting or bleeding
• Back or belly pain
• Cramping
• Fever
• A sudden loss of pregnancy symptoms, such as morning sickness or tender breasts
• A lack of fetal movement once you’ve felt it the first time
• A basal temperature far below your pregnancy normal

That said, I experienced none of these myself besides minor loss of some of my pregnancy symptoms that I attributed to the shift into the second trimester. If miscarriage happens to you without warning as it did for us, don’t feel like it might have been your fault, or that you could have done something about it.

“What can I expect as someone starting to miscarry?“

Please note that these answers are not for ectopic pregnancies. We haven’t experienced ectopic pregnancies, and this section won’t likely be very useful to such a situation.

My sister’s first-trimester experience:

• I have experienced a “chemical pregnancy” (a miscarriage that happens within the first 5 weeks of pregnancy) and also a miscarriage further along (around 7 weeks). These miscarriages happened 5 months apart from each other. I never got to hear my babies’ heartbeats, because I hadn’t scheduled my first appointment with my OBGYN yet, but I had positive tests which later turned negative.
• I had spontaneous, early miscarriages. Most first-trimester losses are passed naturally and without complications, which was the case for me.
• I didn’t know that it could take your body a couple weeks after your baby has passed to actually miscarry the baby. I knew my babies were gone (because of the negative pregnancy tests), but still experienced the pregnancy symptoms. It took my body two weeks to actually start the miscarriage process.
• It can be an exhausting toll on your body physically, emotionally, and mentally. I didn’t realize how weak it left me. I do baby wearing with my two youngest (in wraps and carriers), and I couldn’t manage to physically carry them for a couple months after each miscarriage due to not being strong enough.
• I think the hardest part of it was how quickly the happiness and joy of pregnancy and life is taken away from you. That life seems so fragile and precious. And it could change in a moment. Having three kids myself already, I saw the potential in both the babies I lost. I wondered which sibling they would look more like. What life would look like with them here.

My second-trimester experience:

• You have two or three options depending on how far along you are. Induction of labor and vaginal delivery, removal by D&C or D&E depending on baby’s size, or expectant management and vaginal delivery were the ones presented to me. There are risks with all of them, and your doctor/midwife will explain the procedures for both an induction or a D&C. A doctor probably won’t advise expectant management, as it can be done completely from home, unassisted. In all scenarios, there’s both a risk of hemorrhage and the risk of infection or future miscarriage being crazy high if any fetal tissue is left behind.
• For a D&C, you can have them put you under and wake up with it done. It’s a quick procedure, and you can go home the same day, to my understanding. It can be dangerous, as your uterus could be perforated during the procedure, and it could also cause a loss of fertility. Many women report coming out of it and struggling with feeling as if they somehow aborted their wanted, dead baby.
• With induction, a doctor will be overseeing the delivery to hopefully ensure your health and safety. It can be as short as 6 hours or as long as 24, depending on your body and the dosage/type of induction medication you’re given, but it can also make the healing process longer and more painful, as it forces your body’s hormone process.
• And expectant management can be a lot cheaper and healthier for the body’s recovery if there’s no tissue left, but it’s more difficult to monitor, especially if it’s your first birthing experience. It could take weeks to complete, as it’s up to your hormone production to start and complete the full birth of both the baby and the placenta, without the baby’s help. Once you start to bleed, it’s up to you if you go into the hospital or birth at home. (Bear in mind that, depending on the gestational age, you may have legal requirements to avoid being accused of murder or abortion. If you birth at home, check with your state or local laws online or by talking to a doctor/midwife.)
• Both vaginal delivery options could result in an emergency D&C afterward if there’s any tissue remaining in the uterus.
• I advise you to pray about it. There are no wrong answers, and no matter what you choose, your baby is loved, it is not an abortion, and it is not your fault.
• I remained pregnant for an estimated two or three weeks once Poppy’s heart stopped before I saw spotting. I birthed my daughter at a hospital with Cytotec to speed the process along, asking my doctor for an ultrasound afterward to ensure no tissue remained. My labor process was pretty normal, from what I understand, and the biggest differences between my miscarriage birth and a full-term, live birth were that I didn’t have to fully dilate (I only made it to an estimated 4-5cm), my amniotic fluid was a bloody brown, it took only one push, she was only about 7 inches head to toe, weighed 4 and a half ounces, and she came out with her placenta.

“How much bleeding is there?“

My sister’s first-trimester experience:

• I experienced like a heavy period for 7 full days that tapered off for a couple days after. I felt like the tapering off took forever, like my body just had more and more to get rid of. And I still spotted for a few days after the bleeding stopped.

My second-trimester experience:

• It was difficult to measure. Before and during labor and delivery, it was a lot less than I had expected. Barely more than a first day of my normal period would be, I’d say. Post-birth, it was heavier than a normal period, with clots, and later slowed to spotting.

“Will it feel like cramps, or more intense like contractions?”

My sister’s first-trimester experience:

• I think it differs from person to person, but I experienced what felt more like contractions to me. I have had three babies previous to my miscarriages, and my body probably quickly knew what it was doing. My second miscarriage (around 7 weeks), I started cramping before I started bleeding, which took me by surprise, and it bothered me because I knew what was coming.

My second-trimester experience:

• For me, it was definitely contractions. The labor and birthing experience was very similar to a normal, full-term birth. I had cramps increasing in intensity and frequency for a couple days, then contractions for about seven hours that made me groan for a couple hours before delivery. I also threw up at the transition period of labor, and birthed about an hour after transition.

“Will I see a baby?“

My sister’s first-trimester experience:

• I didn’t have tissue the first miscarriage (before 5 weeks) but I did the second time (around 7 weeks). Tissue is made up of the gestational sack, placenta, general pregnancy tissue, and the baby. It looked like gray and white chunks to me and a lot of clots of differing sizes and stringiness as well.
• My second miscarriage, I did have what looked like a baby. It’s hard to tell because it was just so tiny. It had more of a blob-like shape and less of a baby shape.

My second-trimester experience:

• No matter what, be prepared to not see a baby so much as a tiny, humanoid figure.
• If you deliver vaginally at a hospital or birthing center, then it’s often completely up to you. You might glimpse them either way, but they’ll do their best to clean it up discreetly if you don’t want to see them. Alternatively, if you do want to see them, they’ll let you look at your baby, hold them, have a picture taken for you, have footprints taken, and have them buried if you ask them to. My husband and I looked at our daughter for several minutes while a nurse held her tiny, alien-like body on a towel. Sometimes I wish I’d had them take a photo as the memory of her appearance fades, but I didn’t touch her myself, and I don’t regret it for my experience.
• If you deliver them vaginally at home, then yes. By week 14, they’re too big to flush down the toilet, and you or whoever is with you will have to see them once they’re birthed, and bury them however you can manage to, depending on your circumstances. (Bear in mind that, depending on the gestational age, you may have legal requirements to avoid being accused of murder or abortion. If you birth at home, check with your state or local laws online or by talking to a doctor/midwife.)
• If you deliver with D&C, then it’s often up to you if you’re awake for the process or not. If you want to see your baby, be aware that it won’t look like a baby, and it will be gruesome. Talk to your doctor about your options.

“What can I catch my baby in?“

My sister’s first-trimester experience:

• I didn’t use a container to catch my baby, but I’ve heard some use a mesh colander or a Tupperware. I saw my baby in the toilet with a large clot. No one tells you how wrong it feels flushing your baby down the toilet. I know that sounds awful, but many women experience this feeling. And you really don’t know what it feels like unless you experience it yourself.

My second-trimester experience:

• If you choose to catch them, you could use your hands, or a towel if you’re more comfortable. Their skin is a lot more fragile and crepe-y than you would expect, so be as gentle as possible handling them. I chose not to catch my daughter, and birthed her onto the hospital bed in front of me.
• If you birth at home, you can also use a bag, bin, or a bucket to catch or transport your baby. Whatever you’re comfortable with, so long as you’re as sterile as possible around the open wound within your uterus and other surfaces around your home that could harbor bacteria for future infection. (Bear in mind that, depending on the gestational age, you may have legal requirements to avoid being accused of murder or abortion. If you birth at home, check with your state or local laws online or by talking to a doctor/midwife.)

questions about pre-term Post-Partum

“What’s a normal amount of bleeding and clots?“

According to my doctor, it is only concerning if you’re needing to change a pad more than once an hour, or if your clots are golf-ball-size or larger. I bled heavy for 8 days post-birth, changing my pad every 2-4 hours, with gradual lessening. I had daily clots bigger than any period I’ve had (from the size of a pea to the size of a grape), but only one clot that almost had me concerned, being around the size of a ping pong ball. After those initial 8 days, it gradually slowed for about a week before it remained only as spotting for another week. My first couple periods were also noticeably heavier and longer than a normal period.

My sister added, “A heavy-like period and clots that aren’t larger than a golf ball. I experienced a lot more and a lot larger clots than my usual period.”

“Will my milk come in?”

It depends on your hormones. The further along you were, the more likely it is. I didn’t produce any milk and I was 17 weeks, 5 days pregnant when I birthed, but Poppy measured more like a 14-15 week baby and was also my first pregnancy. If your milk does come in, there are some pain management techniques that you can use. Here is a post on Lactation After a Loss that I had read post-partum just in case.

“When can I start trying again?“

It was advised to me to wait 8 months or more after my second-trimester miscarriage, so I pass that onto you. Emotions aside, you want your body to fully heal and your hormones to re-regulate. It feels like an eternity, but do not rush this process. If the environment of your uterus and the production of your hormones haven’t reached healthy, consistently-life-sustaining levels, then it will increase your likelihood for another miscarriage.

Poppy’s heart stopped beating sometime in January, I birthed her the second week of February, my first period was in April, and now in July I feel like my hormones and cycles are just starting to reach the normal and regular rhythms as they were pre-pregnancy. I track my symptoms, basal temperatures, ovulation day of my cycles, period lengths and intensity, and cycle lengths to gauge where I am in my healing journey. At the minimum, I don’t intend to try again still this month or the next for my body’s sake, just to ensure it actually is staying regular and healthy.

My sister wrote about her first-trimester miscarriages, “My doctor said I was allowed to try again as soon as I wanted after my babies passed. But I’ve heard some say to wait 1-2 cycles or even 3-6 months. I think it’s just best to check with your doctor. I didn’t feel emotionally or physically ready to try again right away. It’s up to you and your partner. But we had two miscarriages 5 months apart if that gives you an idea of when some people may feel ready to try again.”

questions about offering Support

What do I say to someone who’s had a miscarriage?

It really depends on the couple and your relationship to them, which makes it tricky to give a blanket statement. The loss of a child is a unique form of loss, as it’s wrapped in tragedy from the young age, their lack of history, memories, and experiences, and the shattered expectations from the family’s perspective.

From talking with other moms, the general consensus is that if the couple themselves tells you they’ve had a miscarriage and talk to you personally about it, then you can treat it like any loss and offer condolences. A lot of couples don’t mention the loss to anyone, or maybe to anyone outside of their family, and they don’t want to talk about it or especially have people approach them about it, so it’s best to let them bring it up the first time, then use that opportunity to ask them where the boundary is in your relationship to them. You can read the room, and if they’re discussing it a lot with you personally, it’s more than likely to be okay for you to ask them further questions. When in doubt, just ask. You can always pray for them, or send them a card/note with your heartbreak for them within the first few weeks of it happening so that they can feel your support but read it in private.

For me, it was and is fine for family to bring it up to me, and it helped me to talk through my experience with them. Meanwhile, Brenden only wanted to talk about it to a select handful of people. Outside of family, we don’t want to talk about it unless we bring it up first. After it happened, we especially didn’t want to see people’s sad eyes when they interacted with us, as we were barely holding our composure.

What are good ways to support someone through a miscarriage/loss of an unborn child?

Things that my community did for me include,

• Bringing meals in the first week or two. Cooking is about the last thing you feel like doing when you’ve miscarried, and standing for long periods is ill-advised for any woman post-partum. Ask the couple or someone close to the couple (such as a parent, sibling, or best friend) about bringing meals over, their dietary preferences/needs, or what meals they like. Focus on protein- and iron-rich meals to aid in her physical healing.
• Sending flowers, cards, or letters.
• Coming over to visit for an hour or two. Please never show up unannounced, and always text/call ahead to make sure it’s a good time/day. Some people do not want to be around people when they’re grieving, and that’s okay.
• Bringing over or mailing care packages containing teas, mugs, socks, plushies, journals and pens, devotionals and books for processing the loss, lotions, candles, chocolates, nice menstrual pads or body wipes, a “pocket hug,” etc. Anything that brings warmth, healing, or comfort.
  • Be aware that that I was told by my doctor not to take a bath or go swimming for the first 6 weeks post-partum, so things such as bubble bath or bath bombs may not provide comfort at this time.
• Little monetary gifts, such as pre-paid/gift cards, or cash. It doesn’t have to be much.
• Inviting the couple over for a relaxing afternoon/evening of dinner and games to take their mind off it and rest somewhere different.
• Taking care of their dog for a few days. Similar gestures could include watching their farm for a few days, or watching their kids/babysitting, even if they’re right there in the house. (Our dog is very familiar with the person and place he stayed with for that time, and it was a huge help to us to not have to care for him and continue his puppy training for those few days.)
• Asking if you can clean their house, even just to do their dishes, wipe down the toilet and shower, or wash the laundry.
• Giving movie, TV show, or reading recommendations that don’t include themes of pregnancy, parenthood, or loss of a loved one. When you’re healing, you get bored, so you look for something to pass the time from bed or the couch, and many things we watched hit too close and threw us right into our situation, but you don’t necessarily think of that when you choose the media.
• Praying! We appreciated everyone who’s prayed for us. The ultimate Comforter and Healer heard you and still hears you.

“What are some words that you found comfort in during your miscarriage that I could offer someone else?“

• Remembering and being reminded that my baby is a child of God has been of a lot of comfort to me.
• “I’m here for you if you need to talk.” They may never go to you, but it’s comforting to have that support.
• “It’s not your fault.”
• Using the baby’s name if it has one/you know it.
• I read Psalm 147 over and over during my first couple months post-partum. Specifically, “He heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds. He determines the number of the stars; he gives to all of them their names. Great is our Master, and abundant in power; his understanding is beyond measure.“
• Psalm 46 also came to me repeatedly, finding me in unexpected places for several months. “‘Be still and know that I am God; I will be exalted among the nations, I will be exalted over the earth.‘ Yehovah of Hosts is with us; the God of Jacob is our fortress.“
• Jeremiah 29:11: “‘For I know the plans I have for you,’ declares Yehovah, ‘plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.'”
• Matthew 11:28: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
• Psalms 34:18: “Yehovah is close to the brokenhearted and saves those who are crushed in spirit.”
• Matthew 5:4: “Blessed are those who mourn, for they will be comforted.”
• Psalm 73:26: “My flesh and my heart may fail, but God is the strength of my heart and my portion forever.”
• Romans 8:18: “For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us.”
• Alternatively, consider Job’s friends who sat in silence with him (Job 2:11-13).

“What are some things that should never be said to someone going through pregnancy loss?”

• Anything minimizing the grief or loss. This can include grouping your loss in with a bunch of others, brushing it off as “just” anything (i.e. “it was just a zygote”), or saying “at least” anything (i.e. “at least you’re still young and can try again”). These types of little comments, even if gentle or well-intentioned, cut deep and aren’t forgotten.
  • At my first appointment post-birth with my primary care provider, I let them know that I’d miscarried, and their response was a sterile, “Well, that happens to 25% of pregnancies and is very normal.” Their eyes and tone were gentle, but the brushing off the loss of my daughter as a simple statistic was unexpected and jarring. It also pained and alarmed me to realize that the statistic was so horribly high!
• Pushing the couple or others affected to act “normal” again, or to “rip the Band-Aid off” and interact with experiences/people that cause pain. The first occurrence of this for me was three weeks post-birth, and it cut like a knife. I don’t believe this should be pushed on anyone who is experiencing a loss.
  • Should you dwell on and mull over your grief and never return to normal life? Absolutely not. But it needs to be said that you’ll never be “normal” again, and there will be moments or days where your emotions overwhelm you, possibly for your lifetime.
• Talking about causes to fetal death/miscarriage, especially if it’s something preventable in any way. You don’t know if the couple did that or something similar during or before the pregnancy. The amount of guilt that racks me from these conversations before Abba or my husband reassures me again that it wasn’t my fault makes it difficult to fall sleep or has caused nightmares once I do sleep.

I understand that the comments described above can be well-intentioned or delivered with compassion or gentleness, and some are also a response as the other person tries to process the grief themselves. That said, they hurt without fail from what I’ve seen and heard, and you make yourself into an unsafe person to talk to by saying things like this. I don’t hold it against anyone who has hurt me; I want to bring awareness to ways you can do so unintentionally.

For Brenden and I Personally,

Today was supposed to be Poppy’s due date, so this post was personal and emotional. My family and close friends have had questions, comments, and concerns for us in where we are and what we’ve been through. I decided to include ones I thought might be helpful…

“How are you and Brenden doing and healing?”

The grief waxes and wanes. Looking back since it happened, I can tell we’re improving, but it’s a lot slower than any other loss I’ve experienced, and a lot of unexpected things drag it back up. We had a hard time with my first period, Mothers/Fathers Days and the days leading up to them, and we’ve been noticeably more emotional these past several days before the due date.

“How do you want people to acknowledge your mother/fatherhood?”

Generally, we don’t want it to be acknowledged; we just want to be remembered. We don’t feel like we actually achieved mother/fatherhood, so it feels fake. Brenden said, “I didn’t want people to mention [my being a dad on Father’s Day] because I just wanted it to be true, and I didn’t feel like it was.” I think that summed it up really well. We haven’t experienced parenthood at all, so there’s a lot of longing and disappointment linked to those days and to the titles of Mother and Father. That said, we recognized the intent of remembrance and support from family and friends who reached out to us on those days, and we appreciated their heart.

Someone close to us handled it really well, casually handing off a card to Brenden on Father’s Day with a quick note inside and a sweet gift of a little cash for a night out. This helped us further our connection to each other as a couple and create/remember more good and joyful days. Another close friend messaged me for both days and simply let me know they were praying for us, adding, “May today’s sorrow be softened by the future’s promise.” Neither mentioned the day itself or directly addressed us as parents. Both were reminders of our loss and longing, but held hope and excitement for the future. They were effective methods for conveying their love and softening the blow of our invisible parenthood, as it’s a difficult thing to have a happy Mother’s Day or Father’s Day with no child to hold.

“What was the hardest part of the miscarriage?“

That it never goes away. I never got to hear her heartbeat, and I never got to feel her kick. That I haven’t routinely slept well since that ultrasound, and I have regular insomnia or nightmares and weird, uncomfortable dreams. I wonder if it was my fault. There are reminders of the loss everywhere. That I don’t feel like a real mom. That I know my husband and family are going through this, too. My innocence toward pregnancy is forever taken from me. That I want to have a baby, so I want to try for one, but I know that I don’t want “a” baby, but rather I want Poppy, safe and sound, in my arms.

“How is the grief different for a miscarriage than from any other loss?“

I’ve been measuring it against the only other losses I’ve been through, which would be my grandparents. Largely, I believe it has to do with expectations. My late grandmother, for example, who died in April this year and more recently than Poppy, had lived a full life before God. She was 84 years old, had been battling dementia and was progressively losing herself, and she had been sick for a couple weeks in the ICU. Her death wasn’t surprising and, while it still is sad and we miss her dearly, there was no tragedy in it, whereas a miscarriage is both unexpected and tragic.

It’s definitely like normal grief where it waxes and wanes, and some days are hard, while others are easier. However, it isn’t the same, where memories with my grandma trigger me to think about her as I play Phase 10 or Dominos, or I go antique shopping without her, or I cut hydrangeas for the table like she used to. Instead, it’s expectations and comparisons: seeing a pregnant couple curb-walking together, walking by the baby clothes at the store, driving by a playground, going to a baby shower, experiencing someone telling you “Happy Mother’s Day,” holding a niece or watching a nephew take his first steps, watching friends with kids discuss “turns” for changing diapers, reaching the due date or the first anniversary of their birth. All the memories you’ll never get to have with your child. And it’s inescapable.

There’s also a lot of guilt or anger mixed into miscarriage grief that I haven’t encountered with the other losses. As your brain tries to process and reason about why the miscarriage happened, you revisit old sins, every health issue you’ve ever had, your diet, your lifestyle, and your relationship with God, trying to find a cause that may or may not exist. I’ve also battled with feeling a devaluation of myself as a wife/mother/daughter for having miscarried and put everyone through that, as if it was somehow my fault and only my fault, and that I could have stopped it.

Ultimately, you have to recognize that these are prideful mentalities, face them head-on, and rein in your human thoughts. God is the One in control of life and death, and we don’t often get to know why He chose us to go through a hard chapter until much later in life, if ever. You can do everything right to get pregnant or not get pregnant, but our all-knowing Abba is the one who causes it. Likewise, we can do everything right or wrong in life and in our pregnancy, and our all-knowing Abba is the one who decides how long any of us lives. Surrender your emotions to Him, and He’ll guide you through this process.

“What are some unseen things that have come up and end up hurting you?”

• Any innocent person asking, “So, do you have any kids?” It’s such a difficult thing to answer, and I still haven’t come up with a good reply. To anyone who already has kids, the equivalent is likely to be, “How many kids do you have?”
• My husband has had coworkers leave early from work, happily announcing which ultrasound or OBGYN appointment they’re off to. Such a scenario hits differently from other pregnancy/baby things since we learned of the miscarriage at our first appointment and ultrasound, and we never got to hear her heartbeat or feel/see her move. Regardless, I hope people will still continue to do this and allow us to put our own emotions aside to rejoice with them in their blessing.
• Discovering that the name we chose the week we found out we were pregnant, simply based on the size of our baby, happened to be one that means more than its red-flower namesake. As a name, Poppy also means “remembrance, peace, and eternal sleep,” which I found out about two months ago.

I understand that the moments described above are innocent and no one’s fault. I don’t hold it against anyone who has hurt me; I want to bring awareness to ways you can do so unintentionally.

“What things have you done that have helped you heal and process?”

• The biggest one for me has been to tell people — specifically family and close friends — about our experience. Talk about it. Don’t hold it all in your head and your heart. And welcome them to reach out with their questions. Yes, it does hurt, but it’s going to hurt anyways. I’ve found that it’s easier to bear the hurt when I’m not completely alone in it.
• We took a trip a few weeks after the birth that was a refreshing change of scenery. It was the first week of March in Michigan, which is the bleakest time of year in this area. We didn’t have a lot of money to go on a vacation and had animals, but with some help from others in our community, we were able to drive down to Gulf Shores, AL, and rent a condo with an ocean view for four nights. To be outside in nature, especially somewhere new with no prior associations for us, taking walks in the warmth and the green, hearing the ocean and feeling waves lap at my feet, and chasing shorebirds into flight; it was an amazing opportunity.
• At the very least, get outside. Do not stay in your house for weeks. Creation is beautiful, healing, and relaxing. If you safely can, go barefoot in the dirt or grass or water or whatever isn’t man-made. Connect with Abba there.
• My husband’s aunt and uncle sent us a devotional book that I can’t recommend enough. It’s gentle, it’s raw, and it’s centered on our Messiah as it holds your hand and takes you daily through the grief for a month.
• Brenden stayed home with me and was off work. Be home and allow yourself to feel every wave that comes over you without the prying eyes of coworkers. Don’t allow yourself to drown out the ache in your chest by burying yourself in tasks. You can’t process your grief and loss unless you make the time to. And it was such a huge help to have his presence and aid around the house as I healed.
• Naming her. While I didn’t realize that the name Poppy may give more opportunities to encounter my grief in daily life — as its a common flower worldwide and shows up in decor and landscaping — it has helped me to recognize and believe that it wasn’t some horrible dream, and she really did live for those few, short weeks. While she never left the womb, she was a person who lived. It gives some closure to the events and allows me and my family to talk about her with humanity and love. I would recommend naming your baby, regardless of its gestational age when they died.
• Keeping a mementos box. Put in it anything you don’t want to look at all the time that reminds you of your baby. I have the onesie we bought for her, all the cards and flowers notes that others gave us, a little croqueted hat, her footprints, and small gifts from loved ones all stored inside to look at periodically, both to remind me of her little life, but also to remind me of everyone who reflected Jesus/Yeshua’s love for us.
• I made a playlist to store the songs that remind me of Poppy or God’s hand in my life. It’s a comfort to me on the hard days. Just make sure you add songs that are comforting, and don’t listen to such a playlist excessively, as it can begin to bring you down instead of lifting you up. For me, my playlist houses songs such as Wonderfully Made by Ellie Holcomb, Isaac by Madalyn Rae, and Sparrow by Branches.
• I also made her a baby book. I do recognize that this simply isn’t an option for everyone, or it may be one page long, but it’s been beneficial to us, and both mine and Brenden’s families have enjoyed looking at it.
  • If you want ideas for content, I have ultrasound pictures, her footprints, photos with their dates of my bump as it grew, photos from when we announced the pregnancy to each side of the family, her family tree of great-grandparents, grandparents, aunts/uncles, parents, and cousins at the time of her birth, and the cards/letters we received. I also put the content from My Pregnancy Journey inside to tell the story of Poppy’s short life and the impact she had on her dad and I.
• Continuing to take my prenatal supplements, even still to now five months post-partum. Yes, it’s hard, especially in those first days, but it will aid in balancing your hormones as you heal. Frankly, I’d recommend taking a prenatal for the rest of your child-bearing years.
• Talking to Brenden about trying again and making a plan together. Once it’s said, you don’t have to think about it, because you know what to expect.
• If you’re still bleeding, then rest. I cannot stress it enough. I was hurting physically and emotionally, and all I wanted to do is get out of my head and off the couch and forget, even for a moment. But your body needs to rest. You just gave birth, you have an internal wound, and you need to rest. And eat, when and what you can. Your body needs you to, and it will help you along in feeling better in every way.
• My mom texted me this idea that she got it from her friend: “When I see a young baby in the grocery store, on the sidewalk with his mom in a stroller, etc… a wave of emotion washes over me as a grandma. I get choked up wondering why Yehovah allowed their baby to live and not my granddaughter. Often I look away so I don’t allow jealousy to set in, or start crying in public because I am still mourning. But He has showed me I can turn these moments of sorrow into thanksgiving. This is what my friend shared (and it is still painful, even as I pray this): ‘Thank you so much for allowing their baby to live and not die. Thank you that they didn’t have to go through what we have gone through. Please help them to enjoy their sweet baby and help them to raise him or her to love and serve You, to hear about Yeshua and to walk in your Torah. If the mom and dad don’t know You, please help them to come to know You as well. If I can do something to help families like this, please show me.’”

Use Your Voice

The loss of a child is unique and never leaves you. As a parent, you shared your very DNA with them, and if you’re a mother, your body was all they knew. It was their home. It changes you to your core to have carried a child, and they remain with you for decades to a lifetime. To quote PubMed Central, “Fetal cells migrate into the mother during pregnancy…In humans, fetal DNA has been detected in maternal blood as early as four weeks and five days after conception and both fetal cells and DNA are consistently detected from seven weeks… Moreover fetal cells are reported to persist in the mother for decades. Male cells have been found in maternal blood even decades after pregnancy, including in one case in which the women was last pregnant with a male child 27 years earlier. Male cells were also detected in all bone marrow samples from women who had previously been pregnant with males, including one woman who was last pregnant with a son 51 years earlier.” As such, it’s important to be gentle and compassionate when interacting with a parent who lost their child, and recognize the depth of their hidden pain.

I feel deeply that it’s too much for couples to go through this grief in isolation, which is why I try to be open about mine. Most parents ache for support, but don’t know how to ask for it. While I don’t like to discuss it with people often or publicly, it has seemed to help me process my emotions and the trauma around the loss of my baby. I also believe that it’s a difficult thing to navigate what to do or say to comfort and help your family and friends who go through it themselves. My prayer and intention is that this post will help couples and their loved ones to navigate the nuanced process of healing from the loss of a baby, whether miscarriage or stillbirth. As such, I’d appreciate you sharing this with others who may need it, especially to better the information it contains.

If you have a question that wasn’t answered here, I invite you to comment here below or on my Facebook page, and I’d be happy to try and answer it for you. Similarly, if you’ve experienced pregnancy loss before and want to share your thoughts, please feel free to! Any first-hand knowledge can help to bring support and healing to the community of couples going through invisible grief.

Until Abba lays a new topic on my heart, I’ll leave you with this little poem I wrote on a recent night where I couldn’t sleep.

Precious daughter of my womb
Only you could move me such as this
Pressed your imprint on my heart
Passed then on to restful slumber
You are fiercely, dearly loved

— Poppy, Kaitlyn Hirn