Miscarriage is still taboo.
It shouldn’t be. But it is.
I’ve experienced one, which means I am one in four.
Which means I make up a quarter, and a quarter is a reasonable portion of a whole.
Which means it’s common.
Which means it’s a whole lot more than one.
Yet the three remaining get more discussion, more time, and more acknowledgement than the one.
And I get it.
The hardship of sharing something so vulnerable isn’t lost on me.
Loss is hard. So hard. Almost too hard.
And talking about it can be too.
Because it means it’s real.
Because there may be worry about what other people may think.
Because there may even be discomfort about making others feel uncomfortable about a loss.
There are so many feelings.
Hurt, shame, despair, frustration, resentment, and in no particular order but often all at once.
These are all valid feelings.
I felt them all at some point during and after my loss.
Just like I didn’t feel anything at other points.
And to this day, I remember feeling all and nothing.
But I mostly remember the fresh vividness of it all.
Time fading my pain, but not my memory.
I would scroll online for anything I could find on my feelings and questions.
I had so. many. questions.
I felt a deep need to read about others that had gone through it.
A need to hear other’s stories so that my feelings around it were validated and normalised.
A need to be comforted by solidarity.
It was a very real need, in my time of needing.
And the comfort did come, but I felt like I really had to look.
I had to look past all the photos of the pregnancy announcements, the third trimester bump photos and the new baby introductions.
Because it felt like they were everywhere, in deafening numbers.
It was all so loud.
And despite a quarter of these women probably having been through the same thing at some point, statistics were forgotten.
And perspective was lost.
This is what can happen when topics are shied away from, collecting dust on the taboo pile of “too hard to talk about”.
This is what can result from women feeling alone in their loneliness.
This is what post-miscarriage can feel like in the present.
And make no mistake;
I believe that everyone has a right to privacy, and to deal with their own hard differently.
And that it is important for every person to deal with heavy issues however they feel right for them, and in a way that helps them to help heal and lighten their world as easily as possible.
But there is a ripple effect when talking about the hard issues starts and shying away ends.
It encourages courage.
So I ask you for this;
For those who have been through miscarriage before and can find it within themselves to share their story with one or more others, please do.
It doesn’t need to be shared with the world to start a ripple.
And for those who have not been through this before but may or may not know someone who has, please encourage an open discussion with others about this issue.
It doesn’t need to be something you have gone through personally to keep the ripple going.
Please do what you can.
Please help dust off the taboo and open up the discussion.
Please help spread the ripple further.
Because a woman who has suffered a loss, can feel lost in her own pain.
But a woman who feels less alone in her loss, feels a little more found through unity.