As I understand it, you’re not suppose to talk about miscarriage. Or first trimester pregnancy at all, really, but mostly you’re not suppose to talk about miscarriage. They happen, of course, all the time, regardless of the conversation, but my best guess at social propriety is that you’re just suppose to power through, nothing-to-see-here like, suffer quietly, and reemerge to the world at some point, no worse for the wear.
Clearly, that’s not the route I chose to go, as I posted rather publicly about my miscarriage on Facebook. My brother tactfully mentioned “Well, uhh, that’s not really the status update people usually give on Facebook”, which is a very, very solid point. And there’s plenty of people on Facebook that I’d just as soon not talk about my reproductive process with, so I can see why one might not say anything.
But here’s how this went down: months ago, Mike and I signed up to do the RAGNAR Colorado relay with some of our friends. These races are 200 miles, split up between 12 people. Each person runs three legs of the relay over a 24 hour period. I know I’m not doing a good job of describing why this is fun, but just trust me: it’s really fun. It’s 24 hours in a van with fun people running in some gorgeous scenery. If you like running, road trips, and the people in your van, you will like a race like this.
And then we found out I was pregnant. Technically I know you’re not suppose to tell people you’re pregnant in the first trimester, but given that it was impacting my running pace SIGNIFICANTLY, we told the RAGNAR group, giving them the option to replace me as a runner. Either they didn’t care about their time or finding a new runner was too hard (or both!), but they claimed not to care, and all was good.
And then we found out the pregnancy wasn’t looking good, and then we found out it was over. I had a D&C to complete the miscarriage on Wednesday, 48 hours before the start of the relay. Now, of COURSE I should not have raced. Miscarriages are sad, and they are painful. But weirdly, post- D&C, I felt kind of great. I attribute this to truly horrific first trimester symptoms that went away very quickly (ok, fine, and painkillers). I woke up Thursday morning feeling better than I had in over three weeks, and frankly, I was tired of sitting on the couch feeling sorry for myself. I didn’t want to stay home that weekend; I wanted to do the relay.
My doctor gave me a side glance when I asked if I could do it, but she did confirm I wouldn’t do any harm to myself – I just likely wouldn’t be very comfortable running, and it might make recovery take slightly longer. My team was willing to step up and run for me if it turned out I couldn’t, so I figured there was no harm and just GOING, so I went.
Oh, you guys. It was the smartest thing I could have done, and I’m not being sarcastic. Everyone on my team knew what was going on, so suddenly I was allowed to talk about it. I didn’t have to pretend I was fine or just under the weather or any other euphemism we’re suppose to use to avoid talking about miscarriage. Of the five other people in my van, one woman was a nurse, one woman was an embryologist at a fertility clinic, and one woman had suffered multiple losses before having her two children. I found myself surrounded by women who could relate, sympathize, and let me just act like what I was going through was normal.
So I posted on Facebook what was up. That I was running the RAGNAR relay 48 hours after a miscarriage and I was so happy to be there. It was probably the most factual status update I’ve ever posted. And while I’m sure it was uncomfortable for some people to read, the response I received – messages of love and support and hope and even humor – did as much to heal me as any other part of this process. This year’s fertility challenges have often made me feel isolated and alone, and all the sudden I felt anything but.
So, I don’t know. I get that pregnancy loss isn’t something we discuss out in the open. Hell, fertility isn’t even something that is considered polite conversation. But for me, for this weekend, being able to share what was going on with me was incredibly helpful.
InnerTeub 
The thing is, it SHOULD be something that people can talk about and share, not only because it helps the person sharing, but because it helps anyone else who has gone through or is going through the same thing. Plus, you suddenly realize that it is something that happens all the time, which doesn’t make it easy, but it can help to see that plenty of people who had miscarriages go on to have boatloads of healthy children. I’m so sorry you had to go through that, but am glad you found the support that you needed and did the race.
Ditto Cicada Lady’s comment, and *hugs.*
Perhaps it’s because I’m a woman, whose been pregnant, but I definitely think it’s something that should be talked about. Thank you.
Heart you. So much.
I agree. It should be talked about. And I am sorry that you had a miscarriage.
I wish miscarriage were more openly discussed – it’s so common, but women feel so isolated when it happens, because you’re not supposed to talk about it. I’m glad you were able to talk about it – that sounds like a much more positive experience than it would have been otherwise. I’m really sorry that happened to you, though.
Xo. You are one strong lady. It should be discussed. I think the common reaction is one of love and concern. People are always willing to give it, so let them.
You really are so strong. Really, you just awe me with your perspective, your humor, your dedication to LIVING and enjoying life and if there’s anything I want to say to you in person, it’s that you inspire me. You really and truly do. I can’t wait to say that in October. (I’ll wait until we’ve both had a few glasses so it’s not so open the door and “YOU INSPIRE ME” awkward.)
Jennie, I’m thinking about just wearing a shirt that says “YOU INSPIRE ME” in big letters and just pointing to it the minute we meet.
I’m sorry for your loss. I really wish it were more acceptable to talk about. I know when I posted about my last miscarriage, I did not get the most supportive response from my family. I’m glad the race was good though; you’re amazing.
I appreciate you saying, but I think there’s a fine line between “amazing” and “Stubbornly stupid” and I’m pretty sure I know which side I’m on 🙂
I’ve struggled with this too b/c this time I actually have real world friends (I was a hermit for most of my failed pregnancies before) and I decided I needed my friends to be thinking about me, checking on me, etc. I needed that support network. If we get bad news on Wednesday? I’ll post it on FB. I’d rather see real-world updates like that from my friends than annoying political jokes.
Hang in there.
Liz, I saw your FB update and I still haven’t figured out anything clutch, witty, or supportive to say. You have been on my mind though. I’m so glad that you have figured out exactly how to best use all the people who love and care about you, both in real live and on the interwebs. I hope every day gets a little better. I’d hug you if I could, and I HATE hugs.
Aw, Karen. I do know how much you hate hugs, so that means a lot 🙂
We should absolutely be able to talk about it. I’m sorry you went through this, but happy for the support you felt. You’re going to have a harder time convincing me that 24 hours of running and van riding is FUN, however.
Heeee. Well, like I said: I was on drugs 🙂
Thank you for posting this Liz, I am with you, I think it should be talked about more often. As a woman going through the roller coaster of trying to get pregnant, I believe it would almost be a little easier to accept the trials if you knew how common they were.
I am actually just finishing up my first miscarriage today, its been an odd experience. I was only 6.5 weeks along and while I tried to stay cautious this early, it was still pretty disappointing. It was also our first positive pregnancy test after 2.5 years of trying and our first month of infertility treatment (IUI). For my own medical reasons I have had to give up crossfit and trail running this year, and it feels like for most of this I have had to keep things quiet. My family is dysfunctional at best, so in telling my mom and sis about my miscarriage the only response I got was pretty much they carried on the conversation like nothing had been said. ‘Apparently’ I shouldn’t be talking about it. Sigh.
Thankfully, I have two close friends who have both suffered through infertility treatments and miscarriages (and both now have children), so I lean on them to chat about the process and ask questions. They call me to check on my progress and I couldn’t be more grateful that they are in my life. Without being able to talk this through with someone other then my husband I might have gone bonkers by now.
Oh, Erin, I am so sorry. Not being able to get pregnant is (in my opinion) just as devastating as losing a pregnancy. I would say “odd experience” is probably the best way to to describe miscarriage; I’m not nearly as devastated and crazy as I was when I was trying and failing to even get pregnant, but by all accounts I “should” be… ugh, this whole process, it is crazy making.
I am so sorry for your loss. I’m hope you are recovering OK.
Oh, god, Liz. I’m so sorry you’re dealing with this again. Hugs to you.
I’m way behind on your blog, and just want to say while I do not *know* what you’re going through, i have several friends who do and I’ve seen how hard it is. And it SHOULD absolutely be talked about. With that, I am sorry for your loss, and kudos to you for being upfront. Take care of yourself!
Andrea – thanks! It’s been hard, but also good, to talk about it.
I am way behind as well, and totally missed the FB post also.
So sorry to hear this Liz, hope you are doing well. And I don’t think it should be a taboo subject at all.