An Open Letter to Those Who’ve Experienced Loss: Reflections for Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month

woman holding a lit candle

You may already know that October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month. Maybe you’ve noticed more social media posts, or you've heard people talking about honoring the babies lost and the parents grieving them. Perhaps the statistics — 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage, 1 in 6 people experience infertility, along with various other statistics that swirl around about stillbirths, SIDS, among other causes of the loss of a baby—are etched into your mind, resurfacing this month as reminders that you’re not alone in the experience you’re going through. Maybe your loss was years ago, or maybe it’s fresh, and you’re still navigating the early days of raw, unfiltered grief.

And maybe, like me, at the thought of “pregnancy and infant loss,” thoughts and emotions swirl through your mind, each one vying for attention while you frantically try to connect them to each other to help make better sense of it all. This month might bring a sense of recognition for you, a little more understanding from the world around you. Or it might feel like a reopening of a wound that’s trying to heal. Or maybe it’s both—a complicated, messy, both/and kind of human experience that defies logic and feels hard to grasp and explain.

As I reflect on my own journey with infertility and loss, I want to offer a few reminders that have helped me and that I hope may help you, too:

woman hugging dried flowers and chest

1. There is no right or wrong way to grieve through your experience.

When I was in the middle of my own struggles with infertility and loss, I could give you a detailed account of diagnoses, treatment details, and all circumstances surrounding each of my miscarriages – symptoms, dates, the process. I didn’t even have to think about it. It was there in the same way the pregnancy tests were there, lining my bathroom counter with dates and times to track if the positive line was getting darker or lighter. 

The other day, though, I was listening to someone talk about pregnancy fears, and as I was doing some internal processing, I realized I couldn’t immediately remember how many miscarriages I have had. I had to think about it for a minute, and I had to pull out the memories that, at one time, were there even when I didn’t want them to be. My lapse in memory sent me into a bit of a state: I should be ashamed for not remembering.  Do I not care enough?  It must not be impacting me that much if I can’t even remember the specifics. What is wrong with me? How could I forget? Deep breath. Here’s the thing I had to remind myself in this moment and have to remind myself often: First, your grief and mine are not measured by the amount of information we can recall at the drop of a hat about our infertility or loss trauma. Second, we don’t have to prove that our experiences are worthy of grieving. 

Taking a minute to remember the number of losses I have had doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter or that I don’t care. It may mean that those losses are situated in my brain and heart differently than they were when I was actively experiencing the losses. Not less painful, but a different place for the pain: I imagine that there are some cushions around those memories now to give them a softer place to land, a place to rest, a place to be carried. So if certain details of your own journey become fuzzy over time or if it takes you longer to recall them, this says nothing about your level of care, your volume of grief, or about the way you are processing. And you don’t have to strive to retain every detail about every part of the journey as a way to prove that your grief is warranted or real.

2. Your loss matters and your feelings about your loss are valid. Period.

woman with hand over one eye, staring at the camera, looking sad

There are no qualifiers. I’ve heard – many times– people make comments like: “at least so-and-so was only six weeks pregnant when she lost her baby,” followed by, “I know someone who lost a baby at [insert later gestational age].”  If you have ever been on the receiving end of or in proximity to these kinds of comments, I am so sorry. Your circumstances surrounding your loss do not dictate the amount of grief you are allowed to feel, and it certainly does not provide anyone the right to use a measuring stick for whose experience is “worse.” Your feelings about your loss are valid, and you never need to prove, justify, or explain them.

3. Your loss is more than a statistic.

Maybe seeing the “1 in 4” statistic offers you a measure of comfort in knowing you aren’t alone in the pain you have experienced. And maybe the “1 in 6” statistic that sometimes accompanies it and circulates during Infertility Awareness Month in April offers you some perspective that helps you feel less alone, too. These numbers can certainly be helpful to bring awareness to what so many people go through, are going through, and will go through. But maybe the numbers make you feel a little claustrophobic, maybe they feel a little… sterile? Packaged? Maybe, to you, it feels like an attempt to understand something that you feel like you can hardly make sense of yourself.

However the statistics make you feel, the truth is that your journey with infertility cannot be tidily packaged into a number. Wherever you are today, at whatever point you are at in your journey, I do want you to know that you are far more than a statistic. Your loss cannot be situated or contained in any one statistic or week, month, or campaign to spread awareness (although these things are well-intended and can be helpful for some). Ultimately, the loss of a baby creates ripples of impact that vibrate through your thoughts, relationships, hopes, and fears. They show up in some ways that you would expect and in many ways that you don’t. But in all of the ways the impact shows up, it will never be as just a number.

4. A “common” experience does not make it less traumatic.

 I was talking to someone recently who, at one point in a conversation, said, “It’s crazy how common miscarriages are; so many people I know have had one.” And this is probably true. They probably do know a lot of people who have had a miscarriage. It made me think about how, in knowing that ~25% of pregnancies end in miscarriage (which is, of course, only one form of loss) there may be instances where this knowledge actually serves to “normalize” the experience and to desensitize people to how devastating, earth-shattering, and life-changing this loss can be. 

Common is not the same as normal. It doesn’t make the loss any less traumatic. It doesn’t mean you should minimize your pain or hide it away. In fact, the fact that pregnancy and infant loss is relatively common makes it even more heartbreaking. So many of us carry the weight of loss—walking around with empty arms, longing for the babies we’ve lost, with holes in our hearts as we try to “move forward.”

Your Grief is Allowed to Take Up Space

In some of your hardest moments, when you are feeling overwhelmed, or when you go numb from feeling so many feelings at once, please consider reaching out to a support network, taking a break, and taking care of yourself in the ways that are going to make you feel grounded and supported. There’s no rulebook for grief. It's messy, unpredictable, and deeply personal. Some days you might feel like you can breathe a little easier, and other days, you may feel like you can’t physically move. Both are okay. This month during Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month –and during every month– your grief is allowed to take up space and to take shape in whatever way it needs to to help you move forward, or on some days, to simply help you be. Offering you so much love and support, today and always.

By: Erika Muller, Assistant for Wildflower Therapy LLC

All images via Unsplash

How Can Wildflower Therapy in Philadelphia, PA Help You?

If you’re looking for someone to come alongside you to help you unpack and approach the the complex set of experiences and emotions that come with parenthood, longing, and loss, our therapists in Pennsylvania are honored to help!  In fact, you can get to know a little bit more about them here and book a free consultation here.

Other Mental Health Services Provided by Wildflower Therapy, Philadelphia, PA

Life is a unique and sometimes messy journey for each of us; we all have our own individual battles to fight. Our therapists know there is no one-size-fits-all approach to any of life’s challenges and because of that, we offer many unique perspectives and approaches to help meet you where you are with our Philadelphia, PA Therapy services.

With this in mind, we offer services for eating disorder therapy, services for anxiety, and depression, and have practitioners who specialize in perinatal mental health , maternal mental health, therapy for college students and athletes. As well as LGBTQIA+ Affirming Therapy. Accordingly, we have something to offer just about anyone in our Philadelphia, PA office. Reaching out is often the most difficult step you can take to improve your mental health. We look forward to partnering with you on this journey!

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