How to Share the Pain of Miscarriage and Grow

If you are human then you are WELCOME in this place. This is a safe place for us to join, share, vent, ask…and whatever else we feel like!

Topic: Miscarriage
Confession: I am not very good at asking for help…
Join: You don’t have to have had a miscarriage to join in the conversation ~  we are connected ~ we learn so much when we share. Men, you are welcome as well. I promise! Please open your heart and join in the conversation. We are all one…
Inspiration: I read this today from Henri Houwen and wanted to share it with you:
Many parents have to suffer the death of a child, (during pregnancy) at birth or at a very young age. There probably is no greater suffering than losing a child, since it so radically interferes with the desire of a father and mother to see their child grow up to be a beautiful, healthy, mature, and loving person. The great danger is that the death of a child will take away the parents’ desire to live. It requires an enormous act of faith on the part of parents to truly believe that their children, however brief their lives, were given to them as a gift from God, to deepen and enrich their own lives.
See you in the confessional!!@#! Yes, that means scroll down and leave a comment.


  1. [riffly_audio]B8A159E24A4911DEB603C0D47CB25253[/riffly_audio]


  2. YES! the porch. i remeber both of those times…you for me and me for you. LOVE. LOVE. LOVE.!!


  3. Suzanne, thank you for sharing your story and opening your heart. I have not had a miscarriage but I have gone through pain and loss of self. After the birth of my second child, I experienced severe post partum depression and no, I did not ask for help at the time. I felt ashamed and alone and it was very hard for me to finally get help. Once I did, I got better but it was a very dark period for the first six months after the birth. I agree with what you said about learning and growing from that painful place in your life. I appreciate all of the sweetness life has to offer and you truly learn from the yin and yang and balance of happiness and sadness in our lives. I definitely learned a lot about myself and I am happy to share more about my story.


  4. So glad this is here! I just got a really wonderful email from a friend today in which she wrote about her miscarriage experience that she just had. I will encourage her to share here, too.


  5. Yuliya Welk says:

    I would like to share my story here, it was so amazing I had to write an article:
    Our second pregnancy was planned and desired. After 3 months of trying it happened! I felt good, tired some times, lightheaded and irritable (oh, those hormones!) others. I ate really well, drank liquid chlorophyll and nettle tea – great sources of iron; and when my midwife checked the hemoglobin level it was well over the very good mark (10-14), it was 16!
    I was planning a trip to homeland Russia where I haven’t been for 3.5 years. I also wanted to show it to our 2,9 years old son Daniel. My husband George decided to stay home. Our trip was approaching and so was my 12 weeks mark. George who is very close with Daniel was not looking forward for being apart from us for a whole month. Then three days before the flight I spotted some blood on the toilet paper. My midwife Savita assured me that spotting was very common. Sometimes blood vessels on the outside of the cervix pop from the increasing blood volume. The nest day I had a little heavier spotting. Savita said that in this case I might be starting to miscarry.
    Both of my mom and my friend in Russia kept assuring me that it happens and everything will be fine. My mom bled for 10 days and my friend spotted for 6 weeks and both had healthy babies. But my intuition was telling me different. Right when I had that first blood I was very surprised and thought about all the possibilities right away. I decided right then that I’m OK if that is a miscarriage. I just felt strongly that things happen for a reason, and was open to any experience. Of course I cried a little, and it was more of letting go, than being sad. To the delight of my husband we cancelled our plane ticket then – whatever was the case we needed to stay home and be all together at that time. George truly couldn’t believe until the end that we were going, may be he knew all along? The next day (the day before the flight) spotting changed to drips of mucous blood. I took a really nice long nap, and started to get some cramps in the afternoon. They were getting stronger and stronger. We talked with Savita on the phone and tears of gratitude just kept coming when I heard her encouraging, warm, loving and supporting words just letting me know that my body is strong, healthy and wise and it knows what to do.
    Then cramps changed into contractions. I felt the strong need to be alone and found myself in the dark bathroom with small light on and the door tightly closed. I asked George not to talk to me, not to come in there, explained that I was starting contractions and that it was painful. Myself, I felt ready. I knew exactly what was happening. Contractions were opening my cervix to let everything out, just like in labor. Having Daniel really helped my confidence and knowledge. I had him at home in the water with Savita present, so I knew what a pattern of a healthy labor was. The contents started to come out soon, and were free form, dark red blood clots size of a quarter, some smaller, some bigger. They were very soft and reminded me of pieces of liver. After a series of contractions I had a small break and thought: Is that all? And then more, stronger, closer together contractions, and more coming out, and then again, break, and contractions as strong as real labor, back to back, barely 1 minute apart. I was very comfortable on the toilet, and even thought: Next time I have a baby if I don’t labor in the water, I can do it just like this! I rocked back and forth, buried my eyes in my hands during the contractions and slipped in somewhere for a moment. I felt good that I could do it. Sometimes I got up and rocked from one foot to the other like a duck, that was OK… At one point I wondered: “When is it going to be over?” really feeling like I need more energy. I asked George to bring me some honey and water, and that was exactly what I needed.
    Daniel checked on me a few times, poking his smiley face in, sometimes kissing my knee. Later George told me that he came out and said: Mama is trying to poop. So I was “pooping” for 5 hours…
    The last 30 minutes I still had contractions but nothing big was coming out, just mucousy blood. So I decided to call it a day, got up, cleaned the toilet, picked up the colander out of the toilet and wrapped it in a towel. I saved all the contents for a good reason. I wanted to take it to the river. It feels meaningful to do something like that. We saved Daniel’s placenta and planted it near our garden. This time I wanted it to float away symbolizing the letting go. On a second day after the miscarriage it was a cool, wet, fresh, cloudy morning. We drove to Namekagon River and then stood on the bridge. By then all the pieces jellied together, so a big red clump fell in the river and was taken by the current. I went down to the water to wash the colander. I was crying a little bit, and everything around was just peaceful and magical. The birds were singing in the misty air, the river gently rushing by and a great blue heron flew right above our heads…All letting me know there is life.
    Daniel knew about my pregnancy, we explained the miscarriage simply as that baby was coming out now, it was it’s time. He was with us at the river and curiously looked in the colander. To a child at this age everything makes sense, is simply as is. There is no right or wrong, good or bad, he will take it the way the parent presents it. I think that including the child into such life’s experiences will bring more harmony and understanding of the balance of life into his world.
    I had some cramps for a full week after, they were gradually lessening; on the forth day, however, they got quite painful and sure enough the last bigger clot came out the next day. It can take 7 to 10 days for the body to expel everything, and after that still spotting for a couple weeks. Trusting your body, believing in its self-regulatory functions and having patience were the best things that helped me through the process. Most commonly women can complete a miscarriage at home, and many times now doctors send them home to wait until everything happens on its own. Watching the temperature afterwards and eating lots of natural yogurt to keep the possibility of an infection in check is very useful, as well as drinking raspberry leaf tea that is superb in regulating hormones and promoting the uterine health. In any case the plan of action should be determined with your particular health care provider.
    I feel that I’m not pregnant anymore, but I don’t feel empty. I feel that I gained all this experience! I had no idea how it was to miscarry until now, and I’m still amazed at the process (I understand that earlier miscarriages are not as intense). Analyzing everything made all the pieces fit together into a bigger image. George mentioned during the miscarriage that when I got pregnant, he had a darker feeling… I remembered having many dark violent dreams. I would wake up surprised, thinking: “I’m pregnant, it should be a light and happy feeling…” When I tried to imagine the character of the baby and how it would be when it’s born, I had an uneasy feeling that I couldn’t explain…Right now it feels to me that the sole purpose of this particular pregnancy was my chance to experience a miscarriage. May be to help me to be a better educator? I’m studying with Birth Works program to become a certified childbirth educator, so I can teach independent prenatal classes to pregnant women and couples ( Miscarriages are pretty common in a childbirth world, one in five pregnancies as statistics say. Some of them happen very early when women don’t even know they are pregnant. And the fact of how common they are makes me think that it is a confirmation of a nature’s perfect work to ensure that things are going to be just right.
    Or maybe the purpose of it was to share this experience with others? People don’t talk about this subject much, some might feel ashamed, or it is emotionally painful. We need to hear about the normalcy of a miscarriage as an important part of life. That way the shock, loneliness and wonder about what is normal and why will be eliminated.
    Whatever your own personal experience and feelings about the miscarriage are, they are all valid and have the right to exist and be processed. I recognize that if that was my first pregnancy, my feelings would have been completely different. I can just hope that my story will bring some light, hope peace and reflection to your understanding of the spirit of the miscarriage…After all it shapes our womanhood and adds another beauty mark upon our souls.
    Yuliya Welk, april 2009


  6. Yuliya, thank you so much for sharing your story. You are right, not many people talk about miscarriage at all. It’s something that is just swept under the rug. People pretend it just doesn’t happen… right? Isn’t that why you wait 12 weeks before you tell anyone you are pregnant at all? So in case something happens, you don’t have to share or talk about that you had a miscarriage. And then if you do, everyone says well, it’s common and normal. Maybe so but it seems like our culture doesn’t give women much of a chance to FEEL it, which is also normal.

    Kim, Heidi, Suzanne, Yuliya… such strong and beautiful women. Thank you for being here.


  7. Miscarriage is actually why I think that women should tell their friends the second they know they are pregnant. Imagine miscarrying and not having anyone who knows? That would be horrible.

    Granted, I’m giving my opinion from the side of someone who has never miscarried. But I have friends who have – and I was by their side to take care of them and help them get through the ordeal as soon as I found out. It’s important to keep your girlfriends close. Pregnancy can be rough.



  8. Yuliya Welk says:

    You know, I agree with you Shira, people should just tell about the pregnancy right from the start. Like my husband, he gets so excited he can’t contain the news, and they need to be shared. And if it ends, so be it, friends will support and feel with them…


  9. maybe wether or not one tells is really more about who they are. some people are so immensely private that it would be harder for them to have people saying “i am sooo sorry” and “how are you doing”.

    I myself had both experiences and I feel like for me it helped to tell the people i am close to “I’m pregnant!!!” :p so that they could share in my JOY. after so many losses…i knew this may be the only joy we’d share (as opposed to the joy of the birth). the people who knew I was pregnant really shared in my SORROW in a very deep way as well…a loss for THEM. anyway, such a personal decision but it is good to share about the benefits of telling eariler cause so many people wait.

    SOOOOO awesome to see so many people in here chatting and sharing their stories . you are all WARRIORS to me. LOVE!@!! Yullya, can you contact me? I have written at book on miscarriage called “Let It Be” about acceptance, not yet published, and i would like to add your story ;p. it is so rich with the exp i had which is that we can get a blessing in all our pain…


  10. Yuliya Welk says:

    ZenMommy, I’d love you to include my story in your book! The more people read all our insights, the easier the pain… When are you publishing? How does the whole publishing process look? I’ve always wanted to know what you do if you have something to publish…


  11. Johanna says:

    I lost two pregnancies before my third one stuck. Eitan will be one year old on July Fourth 2009. I blogged about the miscarriages on My Space… Here are the entries I wrote:

    Thursday, July 05, 2007

    Knocked up…

    I find myself once again pregnant. This is good news.
    Yet I find myself riddled with anxiety. About money, about living in a concrete jungle with no trees or grass to be seen, but mostly about my lack of control over what might happen.
    I think I will use this forum to get my feelings and thoughts out.

    Six months ago I miscarried in my thirteenth week.
    I woke up in the middle of the night bleeding, went to the hospital, and four hours later was told that there was something dead inside of me… in the hallway of the E.R.
    Two nights after that, I went into labor on the toilet, and after two hours of bleeding and shitting and convulsing, I felt a pop, a gush, then I passed a mucousy ball the size of a large orange. It looked vaguely like a chicken embryo, with a little white string attaching it to a purple blob. I looked at it for a long time, then I flushed. All I remember thinking during the whole process was “good, my body knows what to do, and is taking care of itself. I am plowing the fields for the next sowing”.
    I wasn’t in love with that blob of potential person. I was in love with being pregnant though. I was in love with having a baby, our baby, in my arms in august. And I had gotten used to thinking of myself as a we, to never actually being alone. to there being another someone there when Adam and I lay in bed.
    It took me a while to get used to being alone again.

    I am now at seven weeks. We found out right before my sister’s wedding, and were able to tell our families in person. I have chosen to tell everyone again, because I was glad I had told everyone I was pregnant last time, even though having to announce that I was no longer was difficult. I wouldn’t change it, so I’m not going to.

    We haven’t told any of our STL friends whom we miss so dearly, (though some of you will be reading this) mostly out of a fear of getting too excited. It doesn’t yet seem real, and both of us are wincing in apprehension of all that could happen.

    I know that anxiety is bad for my pregnancy, which of course makes me more anxious that my anxiousness could be harmful to the fetus…

    I realize that this time is my time to learn how to be an adult. My marriage, my father’s illness, my pregnancy, my miscarriage, my job, my weight… these are all things that are teaching me what it is to be responsible for myself, and I am grateful for the education – even if the means are painful.

    I am grateful for the people whom I love, and who love me. I am grateful for my friends, even those who I haven’t seen in a year. I am grateful for the many experiences I’ve had. I am grateful for the universe of potential that lives inside of me. As I approach a quarter of a century, I am learning to be grateful.


    Friday, July 20, 2007


    It occurs to me that this is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
    Pregnancy is hard. The thing is, we do it, and we like it, because we end up with a child to share genes and unconditional love with.

    At least, we’re supposed to end up with a child.

    Miscarriage is like if someone were to promise you a million dollars, and then instead of a check, they send you anthrax with a note that says, “sniff this shit, then I’ll give you a million dollars”. Then you are sick as a dog for a few months, then you get a note with an address at which to pick up your check, but when you get there someone punches you in the face, calls you a sucker, and steals your wallet.

    So now, I’ve fallen for the promise again, and I’ve been sick as a dog for a few months… and I’ve got this letter in my hand…

    I have an appointment in two and a half weeks with the midwife, at which we will listen for the heart beat. Its either there or it isn’t at that point.

    I find myself expecting a punch in the face…

    This sucks.

    Tuesday, July 31, 2007


    Spotting. Couldn’t hear a heart beat. Ultrasound tomorrow morning.

    What happens to a dream deferred?

    Does it dry up
    like a raisin in the sun?
    Or fester like a sore—
    And then run?
    Does it stink like rotten meat?
    Or crust and sugar over—
    like a syrupy sweet?

    Maybe it just sags
    like a heavy load.

    Or does it explode?
    … We’ll see


    Wednesday, August 01, 2007

    Punch in the face.


  12. your words pull to my core. your poem…your “anthrax”…your “punched in the face”… all speak to me of the deep HOPE/DESIRE and LOVE of an expectant mother and then the pain…

    even your mention of the dreaded words…”no heartbeat”. how those words ring in my ears. “no heart beat”. …so many of us women that have lost a baby…we lay there thinking/praying/wishing for one thing as they put that gel on the tummy LET THERE BE A HEARTBEAT. then the words…or even the flat look on the nurse or doctors face. no heartbeat.

    thank you for sharing these intimate details of your life and your pain with me and other women. i feel it will help many. what a blessing eitan is. happy birthday beautiful baby boy!!!


  13. I don’t even know how I could begin this. But, in a nutshell, I was crazy in love and started the process of moving in with the guy. At the same time I was experiencing pregnancy symptoms – morning (evening, afternoon) sickness, metal taste in my mouth, boobs the size of watermelons, all kinds of things. I knew in my gut what those symptoms were about. I was very open with him about it and we monitored everything closely. It was unexpected but we decided to take the joyful route.

    There was someone in his life, a female, who caused us a lot of problems and I’m pretty sure she was jealous. I won’t get into what she did but she caused me a lot of grief and it interfered with my concentration on how I felt about what my future might be like if I had a baby. I was very stressed out and unhappy because of her and what she was doing to us, when I could have been daydreaming and thrilled instead.

    I lost the baby soon after and at the time I wasn’t sure how I felt about it. It was really early and there were no complications at all – that’s not to say it was a pleasure, because it wasn’t! But I didn’t have any physical/medical problems, thank god. But the dude didn’t seem to understand where I was physically and mentally.

    We had a big fight because of this female presence and also because he didn’t seem to understand my hormone highs and lows that made me really emotional, and he kicked me out of his house (just days after I lost the baby). I promise I’m not insane, the guy really is a real dud !!
    The two things I’m grieving over are the fact that he made me go through this alone, and the baby and our future that would have been.

    It was so short-lived but I got to experience that physical and emotional change that comes with that first beginning stage of pregnancy. This primal, instinctive love that just erupts from your soul when that happens. NOW I know what love feels like.

    So I’m coping with a breakup and that. It’s… intense and powerful.
    I’ve also now been left with the feeling that I really want to have a child in the future. I hope I can do that someday, when I’m in a really good place.
    Thanks for opening this up!! I haven’t had anywhere to really discuss this. There is a lot I’m leaving out for the sake of privacy but what I’ve written here is the main story. But anyway, I’m doing ok now. :-) The highs beat the lows.


  14. T,
    My heart goes out to you in all of this. Thank you for sharng your life. I know so many can relate, without even having lived through what you have lived through…to the whole idea of not feeling we have “support” or supportive people at different and important times in our lives.

    Surely our pain has to be eased when we find ourselves surrounded by loving, understanding people. Likewise, our pain seems to be doubled if and when we don’t. I have never been in a more vulnerable or needy place then after the loss of our babies…and for this reason I want you to kow that you are not alone. No matter how insensative this man, this woman…anyone in your life treat you, know this for certain. YOU ARE NOT ALONE. I hope you can feel me and know this in your soul. I hope you feel the big (((hug))) I am sending you as I type. Your story has brought tears to my eyes because I identify with that feeling of lonliness and lack of support you describe here… even in the midst of a loving marriage and suportive friends and family, I think it must be fairly normal for us to go there as grieving mothers.

    There is nothing like the lose of a child, one that you dream of holding one day, of bringing up with the babies father…and then in the blink of an eye it is gone.

    Do you ever talk to your baby? Know that this relationship is there for you and can be comforting…mine all have names and i think of htem often and now in a joyful way…but this took time. You can even name your little one :p, plant flowers that will come back every year. This has been very healing for me. We planted Lillies. I love to see them growing bigger and bigger as the years pass. When they bloom for me it’s like a birth day of sorts every year. If you want to talk some more, feel free to post here or email me at suzanne @ *smils* *hugs* to you dear one…


  15. I don’t know if your conversations are still going, but I am beginning to write about my experience of delivering my baby girl–stillborn–on my blog. She was born/died exactly four weeks from her due date (8 months).


  16. Amy, Thank you for sharing your story. (please click on amy’s name above to visit her blog…)

    so much heart. the pain you must be in. to have carried your sweet girl all those months. to deliver her. you share your thoughts and fears so openly… i know this will help many others to read who find themselves in a similar place of pain, grief and lose. the most striking words for me in your post are these, as they speak to our tendency as mothers to blame ourselves when something goes wrong-

    “I hadn’t been taking my prenatal vitamins… could that have caused it? What about the antidepressants I was on? I gained about 20 pounds more than I should have… maybe that killed her. Maybe all the stress I was under killed her. And, my most shameful, lifelong guilty conscience wonders if the occasional beer that I partook in may have had an affect.”

    I have miscarried 5 times and the first 3 or 4 i just knew i was doing SOMETHING wrong. by 5 it finally dawned on me… these were just the circumstances of my life. they were not my fault… and they sure as heck did not define me – who i am – who i can be. it has been a long, hard and at times hugely rewarding healing process. i pray for good friends to surround you, loving arms to hold you and a free flow of tears as often and as many times as you want to go there. i am crying now for you… and for me… even these few years later.

    blessings- and may your heart find peace in all the pain.

    Suzanne aka ZenMommy


  17. I had a healthy baby in 2002, then got pregnant a little more than a year later. I couldn’t wait to tell everybody in my life! But at 10 weeks, roughly, I started bleeding heavy and cramping. I went to the hospital and they pronounced what I already knew. I took it really hard, and my husband at the time cried for the second time since I’d met him. Then a few days later, his parents asked how I was doing and how’d my prenatal go the day before. I just started sobbing uncontrollably, and heard my husband tell the awful news. His mom started crying and hugging me. His dad replied “Thank God. You two kids can’t even take care of the one you got. Everything happens for a reason, you know.” My husband punched him in the face.
    Six months later, another positive pregnancy test. We decide to wait this time because having to tell everyone about the miscarriage was almost as bad as the loss itself. We quietly celebrated it together, and prayed for a healthy child. But it wasn’t to be. Five more miscarriages in four years – one fetus reaching 20 weeks and two requiring D & Cs. Then the rocky relationship crumbled under everyday stresses.
    I met a new man, and when we became intimate I got pregnant right away. I warned him that I had had multiple miscarriages, but he told his family immediately anyway. The day before my first prenatal I lost the baby. We had to explain this to his family, and return some maternity clothes his mom had bought me. Two months later, I got a positive pregnancy test when I went to the hospital for a fall injury. I was by this time still not over the constant losses and didn’t think I could take any more stress and worry. At my first ultrasound they saw the sac but no baby – and I should have been about eight weeks along. The ultrasound tech didn’t say anything, but I knew there was something wrong when he left and my doctor came in a few minutes later. I was going to miscarry again. This time I opted for a voluntary D & C so they could examine the tissue.
    Two years later, I got pregnant again, and all the symptoms came on strong, like with my daughter. We just knew this one was gonna make it. But we decided to wait awhile to spread the news. The day after I entered my tenth week, I woke up in a massive pool of blood, and it spilled to the floor when I sat up screaming. I was spending the weekend at his dad’s place to help him out, but my fiance had to work that weekend so he wasn’t there. I told his dad to call 911 and went to sit on the toilet with an icepack on my stomach. He opted to take me himself, so I called my boyfrind from his cell en route. As soon as I walked into the ER with blood gushing down both legs I passed out. When I came to, there were two IVs in me – one blood and one fluids – and my bed’s head was as far down as it could go and the foot was as high as it could go. Shortly after, my boyfrend showed up just in time for the doctor to tell me I should be stable now but I had them worried for a while. My blood pressure was 57/21 the first time they took it, and it took them a while to stop the hemorraging. I said my head hurt from being upside down, but he said I had to remain so for another few minutes until they were sure my blood pressure was under control. An hour later I was having another D & C, and this time it wasn’t outpatient. Instead of an hour to six hours of recovery in a room after coming out of he recovery room, I spent two and a half days in the hospital. And my boyfriend never left my room except when he was forced to leave for an hour when my roomate or I had another test.
    Now I’m pregnant again, and when found out I bawled. I couldn’t handle another miscarriage, especially after I almost died. So they put me on antidepressants and I started being super careful, super healthy, but we remained super secretive about the baby. I only told one person other than my fiance. Until the twelve week marker. Then we told our families. We’re breathing a little easier now. There’s still a chance, but it’s made it this far, and the ultrasound looked promising. I’m at a high-risk clinic right from the start, and they said everything is as it should be. So I know it’s not another tubal (one was) or empty sac (two were). And this one has made it farthr than all but one miscarriage now. So we’re still not in the clear, but there’s a light at the end of the tunnel after 10 consecutive miscarriages.
    I’m not just venting the grief I still feel for each of my unborn children. And I’m not trying to tell people who have not been successful in their pregnancies that I can have a baby and they can’t. I’m letting you all know that there is hope. And that I know how you are feeling. I’ve had ten miscarriages in less than seven years. My loss is no greater or less than the parent who’s only had one miscarriage or stillbirth or SIDS baby. But you are not alone. And I know nothing will heal the pain, because I’m crying as I’m writing myself. Nothing anybody says will make the uncertainty go away about whether you could have done something differently, or is there something wrong with you. There is no answer to the question I have asked many times over: “Why did God let this happen?” But we can get through the pain. And there is still hope.


  18. Zen Mommy says:

    Sending *hugs* to you all today. Just thinking of all my angels in heaven (and yours too if you’ve posted about them above). I know they are looking down at us and smiling. Thank you for sharing yourselves and your stories here with me.

    May the words Mom2002 said above live true in your heart – “there is still hope.”


  19. Zen Mommy says:

    this conversation is still going. feel free to share your story below. xoxoxo suzanne


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