Healing After Miscarriage: A Tender Note of Hope to Grieving Moms

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“How many kids do you have?” They ask.

Five, I think to myself. 

“Three,” I say. 

Because four years later, I still feel the loss of my two pregnancies. 

And because miscarriage is often a silent grief. So acknowledging the number of kids I really feel like I have just isn’t something I can easily say aloud.

The constant feeling of emptiness isn’t as devastating as it once was. It’s been replaced with a somber ache that comes and goes.

But I have a feeling no matter how much time passes, I’ll always send my love Heavenward towards the two tiny angels watching over me.

And I know I’m not the only mother with angel babies. One if four pregnancies end in loss.

So to the grieving mom who recently miscarried, or the mom who still mourns the baby she lost, you may wonder…

• When will I get through this? 
• Why can miscarriage be so challenging to overcome for me and not others? 
• Will I ever be the same again?

I wish I had all the answers. But after experiencing two miscarriages that sunk me in depression, and quite possibly changed the direction of my life and wellbeing, I hope to, at the very least, offer some comfort and courage to carry on.

This one’s for you mama….

Why healing after miscarriage is so friggin’ complicated.

Before heading to the hospital, I asked the nurse on the phone if we hurried, could the doctor save the baby. I think I blocked out what she said. Because as I laid in the ER, waiting for the doctor to come, trying to ignore my husband’s eyes that pleaded with me to accept an unfortunate possibility, I still believed that when I saw the doctor, she’d fix me so I could keep the baby safe. 

And even as the doctor held my shoulders and rubbed my back with sympathy in her knowing eyes while I sobbed, my brain still couldn’t process this was happening.

But when I walked through the sliding doors toward the parking lot afterward, I looked behind me. I remember feeling like we’d walked in as 3. And now, I walked out with more than minus one. A piece of me stayed behind with that baby.  

I hadn’t met my baby yet. So why is healing from this so complicated?

Because I don’t have to meet someone to grieve for them.

Because I lost a family member. But I hadn’t told most of my family and friends about them yet. So nobody else is grieving with me.

Because I was 6 weeks pregnant. Maybe it was a chemical pregnancy. Does my grief count? Am I allowed to feel such sadness if it was so early?

Because we wanted more kids. 

Because I already envisioned our future together. 

Because my feelings of shame, embarrassment and inadequacy are so intense.

Because I’m scared it’ll happen again.

And because, if this is your first pregnancy, you may wonder if this counts. Are you a mom? Or not really? (Let me assure you: You are. Never doubt that.)

I experienced all of these feelings and more after my miscarriages. There’s so much attached to pregnancy loss that working through the grief seemed overwhelming.

Which is why, years later, I still feel called to connect with other grieving moms. 💓

10 heartfelt messages of love from one grieving mom to another

I wish I could travel back to 33-year-old Chelsea and wrap her in a comforting, life-giving embrace. And then whisper these tender messages in her ear. 

And since I can’t, I pray they’ll be soothing to you.

1. It’s OK to have big feelings.

Emotions of shock, sadness, anger, resentment, shame, guilt, and others are normal feelings after a miscarriage.

2. Unfortunately, this happens sometimes.

As I mentioned earlier. You and I aren’t the only women who’ve experienced miscarriage. Tragically, 1 in 4 women will lose a baby during pregnancy, birth or infancy.

3. It’s not your fault.

My husband and I did everything we could to prepare ourselves for these babies. We planned to get pregnant a year ahead of time. There wasn’t anything I could have done to prevent these two losses. I realize that now.

4. Don’t compare your trauma, loss or feelings.

Every mom’s experience with loss is different. And the way we cope with the trauma will be too. I have friends who got over their miscarriages quickly and unscathed. While mine triggered my PTSD and I’m still in therapy. That doesn’t make me weaker. It doesn’t mean they didn’t grieve their loss. We’re all different. Take time to connect with how you feel. 

5. No matter what anyone says, this was a baby to us.

Whether the doctor used “chemical pregnancy,” “embryo” or “fetus,” this was our little one. Our body grew and nurtured life, no matter how short it was. And that life mattered.

6. It’s OK to tell people (or not) if you want.

Everyone tells you to wait until you’re through the first trimester to share your pregnancy. So I did. And boy was it bitter telling people I’d miscarried after not telling them I was pregnant. And then, when I miscarried six months later, I just felt like everyone was anticipating another miscarriage.

I needed to talk to someone, but I didn’t know what to say. So I chose to open up to a small group of supportive people. It was too exhausting talking about it otherwise. Which leads to the next point.

7. People will say stupid and insensitive stuff.

But it’s usually because they don’t know what to say. Since this is rarely talked about, I think people who don’t know what it’s like healing after miscarriage struggle with how to respond. Here’s the unhelpful comments I heard (and learned to tune out):

• “Things happen for a reason. This was meant to be.”
• “I didn’t know you were pregnant. It was so early, I’m sure you’ll be over it soon.”
• “Do you know why? Maybe you can find out so you can do it differently next time.”
• “At least you have other children, you should be grateful for what you have.” 
• “It’ll be OK. You already have two kids. Maybe you’re not meant to have more.”

8. Loss can feel lonely, but you are not alone.

I had my second miscarriage at 10 weeks. After that, the world lost color. I remember seeing things in shades of gray and everything was hazy. Sounds were different, too. It was like I was underwater.

And I felt so alone. Like nobody would fully understand. Like everyone expected me to get over it already. But, in the months after, and even to this day, I’ve met many moms who’ve suffered miscarriages.

When we’re in that deep, agonizing pain, reaching out is often the last thing we feel like doing. So if you don’t feel up to it yet, that’s OK. But just so you know how not alone you are, consider this:

• Your partner lost something too. My husband didn’t carry these two babies, but he carried the weight of my pain, depression and grief for years. He was a great strength to lean on during those dark times.
• You have friends and family who care for you. Although I heard many hurtful comments (like the ones listed above), I found a small handful of people who truly got me. And I chose to only confide in them. It hurt less and took less effort when I chose who I could be vulnerable with.
• The community of moms who’ve miscarried is large. There’s a lot of us. And many grieving moms have shared stories on blog posts, YouTubes, and social media. Search, read and feel connected.
• On October 15th, light a candle at 7pm. This grants us an opportunity to remember all of our babies who were gone too soon during the International Wave of Light. And find other moms, like me, who post about miscarriage in October, which in 1988, US President Ronald Reagan declared Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. During this month, we acknowledge the pain grieving parents experience after suffering a miscarriage, still birth, or the loss of an infant.

9. You’ll be OK… but it may take a while.

I’m not going to lie, everything baby and pregnancy is hard when you’re healing after miscarriage. I attended a baby shower following my second pregnancy loss. I thought I’d be ok. While there, I retreated inside my head to protect myself from the emotions weaving through the room. 

But as time wore on, and I worked to heal, colors and light slowly made their way back into my life. 

Mindfulness helped me bask in the present with my two children again. Meditation helped me forgive others and even myself. And now, years later, gratitude even works its way in. Helping me see the strength, perseverance, and self-love that’s grown within me over the last four years. 

10. Don’t be scared to ask for help.

During my doctor’s appointment after losing the second baby, the doctor eyed me with concern and empathy. She confessed she wanted to put a referral through for therapy. She knew we wanted a third child and we weren’t sure if we’d try again or not. She was worried what another miscarriage would do to me and how I was coping with the first two.

But I was embarrassed to get professional help. I was learning miscarriage wasn’t that uncommon, and I felt I should be able to get over it. Like this shouldn’t have been a big deal. But at the time, I didn’t realize the trauma triggered my PTSD. I didn’t know I was having anxiety or panic attacks. Or even that I was depressed. I just knew I couldn’t get above my despair.

A few months later, I started seeing the same therapist I see to this day. Therapy was crucial to my healing after the miscarriages.

When the pain and feelings get to be too much. It’s OK to get help.

Moving on After Miscarriage

I know my words can’t take your pain away or bring your baby back. But I hope you feel comfort in knowing you don’t have to navigate this grief alone. 

When, or if, you’re ready. Reach out. To other moms. To a support group. To a therapist. When you do, you’ll learn this tribe is large. And we offer support, love, and healing after miscarriage. 

In remembrance of my tiny angels, and yours,
~Chelsea