First Encounters of the Loss Kind.

When we first found out that we had lost our baby, we decided to only inform a handful of our closest loved ones. We asked for them to help us share the news with others so that we did not have to reach out to everyone directly. We respectfully requested that our friends and families hold off on reaching out to us, as we wanted to avoid being overwhelmed by condolences when we were still trying to process our new reality for ourselves. We knew that we just needed some time before we could handle discussing everything with others. When it did come time for us to meet and see our friends and families again, I didn’t know what to expect. What would people say? What would I say? Would people be completely uncomfortable around me? Would I break down every time someone talked about it? Would I make someone uncomfortable by bringing it up myself? This was brand new territory, and I realized that I would just need to learn and figure it out with each new encounter.

Outside of seeing friends and family, how was I going to handle speaking to everyday acquaintances who didn’t even know what had happened? I remember trying to disappear into the house and melt into the floor when one of our next-door neighours asked “When is the baby coming?” How were we going to answer this honestly and not cause them to feel excruciating awkwardness? During my first encounter with my hair dresser (who had seen me while I was pregnant), he leaned over and quietly asked, “Weren’t you having a baby?” I had at least prepared myself for this one, anticipating that this question might come, and had repeated over and over in my head on the way there “we actually lost the baby… we actually lost the baby… we actually lost the baby” like I was rehearsing lines for a play. So when he asked me the question, I somberly, almost robotically whispered back “we… lost the baby.” My face must have turned a new shade of red when he responded with “everything happens for a reason.” While I wanted to aggressively question back: “what exactly do you think the reason is for my baby dying?!” I think I just said “ya” in disbelief.

When I started to see friends and family, I noticed fairly quickly that if I wanted to talk about our loss I would in many cases need to be the one to start the discussion. There are still some people who have not acknowledged what happened, and how can I blame them? I can’t – I wouldn’t. No one is an expert on how to handle this situation and no one knows what my boundaries are, unless I tell them. People are trying to be sensitive to my feelings, and that is completely understandable. Some friends have started a conversation with: “Is it OK if I ask…”, “Tell me if this is too much…”, “Are you OK with talking about…” and I have so appreciated that. I was almost surprised to realize how open I have been with talking about everything. At first I thought that if someone started to talk about it I would break down, and sometimes I do – but that is OK! I have learned that I much prefer to talk about everything than pretend or act like nothing happened.

It all goes back to normalizing discussions about these very real, very difficult experiences. If someone in your life loses a parent, a friend, a family member; the normal response is to share your condolences, ask how they are doing, and maybe ask them some questions about the person who passed so that they can find healing in sharing stories about that person. What would be unusual is if their loss was completely unacknowledged. They might cry when talking about their loved one (normal). They might tell you they aren’t ready to talk about their loss yet (normal). They might smile, laugh, or even enjoy talking about the memories they have with that person (normal, normal, normal). So, why is it any different with infant or pregnancy loss? We shouldn’t pretend a pregnancy never happened or disregard a baby’s existence in order to avoid the discomfort of the loss.

Knowing how or when to communicate with anyone who has experienced miscarriage, pregnancy loss, or baby loss can be complicated. It’s not black and white. Everyone copes differently; everyone heals differently. No one is expected to be an expert (well, except for the actual experts) on how to discuss this or help their loved ones going through this. The important thing is to just be there, and to be open to discussions about these experiences, even though it can be difficult. And for those of us experiencing the trauma first hand, we should remember that this type of loss not only affects us, but also effects those closest to us. Try not to set so many expectations for others or yourself, and instead just try to be kind, understanding, and sympathetic with others AND yourself.