Hi all, I've just had my second miscarriage and have slowly started opening up to more people about it. One reason is that I found through a mutual friend that someone I knew had a miscarriage between her two successful pregnancies. I hadn't known, and she hadn't known about mine, and hearing about her birthing plan sent me into a tailspin - I had to hide in a little room I found to cry my guts out. If we had known about each others' experiences, we could have supported each other instead. Also, I was really lucky to have a close friend who'd gone through this, and her support and advice were invaluable. So, I decided to tell some of my other girlfriends about my experiences. I wrote them a note, copied below:
Before you start reading this note, let me warn you that it's not going to be an easy one to write, or to read, and I've questioned myself often about whether or not I really do want to write this. I'll explain all of this below, but I hope you will understand that I have reasons about sharing this with very specific people so please keep this completely confidential - including families and mutual friends.
Also, I am not writing this at all to get kind words or support: in fact quite the opposite, avoiding these kind words is why I'm so hesitant to tell people in the first place. In a way it's easier to tell those of you who I'm not likely to see, or even talk to, anytime soon.
So, well the news is this - I've now had two miscarriages. And before you start feeling bad for me or wanting to call or email me please don't.
The reason I wanted to share this is the sheer absurdity of the disconnect between the stats and communication. I don't mean to be negative, but the stats are this: one in four pregnancies miscarries for no particular reason - the embryo is just not viable. That means one in sixteen women who've been pregnant are likely to have two miscarriages. That's a huge number, for something no one really talks about. And while I intimately understand why people don't talk about it, it was only with the support of a good friend to whom this had happened in the past that I knew what to expect physically and emotionally, and got through the first one. It helped as well to have a lot of support at work, a luxury I know not everyone has.
While I obviously hope none of you has to go through this yourself, if something does happen, know that I'm around to talk to. Or if this happens to a friend and you're not sure what to say, everyone's different but I can at least explain how I felt, and what did/didn't help me.
I'd talked about this to a friend, how crazy it is that so many of us go through the same thing in isolation, not knowing all of the people around us who felt just as isolated when it happened to them. I originally thought I'd wait until I had a successful second-trimester pregnancy before I wrote this, but well, first of all as my husband says everyone pretty much knows we're at that stage, a few years into marriage, so it's not a huge secret that we're ready for kids (those of you with kids are probably laughing at the word "ready"). But also, with you girls whom I trust, who I know will treat this information with respect, I don't have to worry about pity or gossip (or schadenfreude) in any way.
As I said before, my main reservation in telling people is having to face the changes in conversation. It's much easier to just get on with life. The temptation to tell people exists in wanting to be honest, and not hide this hugely significant experience in your life, but as soon as you do, you have to face sympathetic looks and placating statements like "you're still young" (I've thought about all of these comforting things already, I don't need to hear them again... and if I'm emotional it's because of the event, or the hormones, not because I haven't thought of that one comforting thought). If I've learned one thing through this whole experience, it's that sympathy is a double-edged sword, it has the potential to reopen wounds. (To be honest, I've left out a few close friends who I thought might be more emotional and try to placate me with encouraging words.)
I do apologise for this sobering note but hope it might do some bit of good in the future, for one of you, or one of your (or our) friends. Don't worry about replying to this either. I love each and every one of you and can feel your hugs around me right now, and that's all I need.
I'm soooo sorry!
I am so sorry 
