Hello, I'm Nicole! 

Wife.  Mom to a rainbow named Anderson and an aussiedoodle named Gibbs.  Registered Nurse.  Entrepreneur.  Infertility and miscarriage survivor.

Miscarriage Communication 101

Miscarriage Communication 101

This picture is from last year. I hate this photo. I felt like crap and I’m puffy from the fertility meds. It was our first big family weekend post-miscarriage. I was miserable. I had just started another round of fertility meds. My sister-in-law was pregnant. I wasn’t. I didn’t want to be around anymore or answer one more question about how I was doing. I faked a smile and got through the weekend. I got through family photos. I got through church. I got through hearing multiple times that this happened for a reason and that it was God’s plan.

I had a lot going on in my life here. I was in the process of moving my business to my parent’s house, still trying to cope with our loss, and struggling hard to love myself (more about that later). My job also involves talking to clients day in and day out. Usually this is great, sometimes it’s not.

People—friends, family, clients, strangers—said some pretty messed up things to me after my miscarriage and the months following. I don’t believe any of these comments or questions were meant to do harm. I was just extremely sensitive and hormonal.

Here’s what not to say to someone who has gone through miscarriage:

Did you lift something heavy?

No, I didn’t. Thanks for insinuating I caused this.

You should be more sad.

I’m sorry, were you in bed with me when I cried myself to sleep at night for weeks? No? Then don’t judge.

My friend had 10 miscarriages before having a healthy pregnancy.

Not quite the most comforting thing to hear.

You need to wait 6 months before trying again.

Actually, no I don’t. And you’re not a health care/pregnancy professional. I am a health care professional. And I’ve done a lot of research (i.e. medical journals). I know what’s best for my body. You don’t.

At least you can get pregnant.

This one I agree with. I know it’s a good thing my body can get pregnant. But I sure don’t need to hear it from you.

The best advice I can offer is to not say anything. Just listen. Be the caring, unconditionally loving ear that your friend needs. I promise even a heart emoji is more comforting than hearing “at least you can get pregnant” one more freaking time!


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