One year ago today, a nurse confirmed what we already knew–we’d lost our second baby. The weeks prior had been spent trying to convince ourselves that we’d receive better news, that all signs pointing to a pregnancy loss were just a variation of “normal.” But by the time the nurse called me with the test results, we knew.
Because few people knew I was pregnant at that point, few people found out then about the loss. Since then, it’s come up in conversation every now and then. I’m a pretty open person, and I don’t mind talking about it (at least not now), but I’ve noticed that pregnancy loss is a really awkward subject for some. I can recall a few people asking “When should we be expecting a second Neely baby”, to which I’d reply honestly that I’d just miscarried a baby due in December and wasn’t sure what would happen next. This almost always elicited backtracking and often some really stupid comments (“Well, I’ll bet you’re relieved, right?” being the least sensitive).
Pregnancy loss is not a shameful thing. Despite the occasional fleeting doubt, I know I did nothing to cause it–my body did exactly what it was supposed to. If someone is comfortable sharing that painful part of their life story with you, I plead with you to offer support, not stupidity, and tact, not advice. It’s a long path to healing, physically and emotionally, and ignorant words or even misguided attempts to comfort (“It’s all in God’s plan”) are not appropriate.
I’ll probably always feel a tinge of sadness on that December due date, but being open about the loss and connecting with other women who have been through the same ordeal (sadly, a rather large club) has been healing. I’m okay now. By the grace of God, I’m okay.