Illustration by Victoria Borges
I recently learned about the International Wave of Light, an event in which people around the globe light candles to commemorate the loss of a pregnancy or a baby. At 7 p.m. Oct. 15, participants will burn a candle for one hour so that, throughout all time zones, lights shine continuously for 24 hours.
I wish I had known about this ceremony when I miscarried 12 years ago. Instead of lighting a candle, I kept my pregnancy and my loss in the dark.
Miscarriages are a silent epidemic. As a society, it’s customary not to tell anyone beyond close family about a pregnancy until 12 weeks — 80% of miscarriages occur in the first trimester. I didn’t share my news out of fear of losing the pregnancy, so when my worst fear was realized, I suffered alone and in silence.
“Mothers and fathers can feel really isolated in their grief,” says Karla Helbert, a Richmond-based grief counselor. “If you let people know you’re pregnant, they will be invested and give you support if something happens.”
I found out I was pregnant unexpectedly before our firstborn was even a year old. My husband and I were surprised but excited. We kept the news to ourselves, calculating the baby’s birthday and secretly making plans for the new arrival. I went through great effort to hide my pregnancy from friends and family, even pretending to drink alcohol at social events.
Four weeks later, on a Tuesday at work, I discovered some spotting. A wave of hot panic flooded my body, and my heart was beating so loudly I thought it might explode. I drove to my doctor’s office, where she determined the embryo was smaller than it should be at 7 weeks. My doctor gave me progesterone and sent me in for lab work the next morning, but the situation looked bleak. My husband was out of town, and instead of calling my mom just one hour away, I went to work as usual and stifled my tears while putting my toddler to bed that night.
On Thursday, the cramps came, and on Friday I lost the baby at work. I went back to my desk and carried on like nothing was wrong, but inside I was falling apart.
“A miscarriage can be completely devastating,” says Rachel Love, an OB-GYN with Bon Secours Richmond. “It’s not just the loss of a pregnancy but future plans you had for that child. I encourage my patients to open up to people they trust.”
I finally called my mom, who rushed over, bringing me lots of love and goodies from my favorite market. When I eventually told my friends and female co-workers, many shared accounts of their own struggles and heartbreak — of miscarriages, infertility or failed IVF treatments.
Their support and love were overwhelming. I hadn’t wanted to tell because it seemed too big a secret, too private, too personal even for my closest friends or my own mom. I hadn’t wanted to cause them worry or be a burden on their busy lives. But above all, I thought something was wrong with my body and felt ashamed and embarrassed.
Grief is not a bad thing; it’s a normal response to the loss of something precious. Learning how to carry that loss is huge.
—Rachel Love, OB-GYN
Love says miscarriages comprise 25% of all pregnancies. Some women miscarry before they realize they were pregnant. She emphasizes to patients who have lost a pregnancy that it wasn’t their fault. “You did not cause this,” she assures. “We could not have prevented this. This was out of everyone’s hands.”
Helbert says many of her clients experience doubt and shame, blaming themselves for exercising too hard, eating junk food or standing in front of the microwave while pregnant. “Every bereaved parent on some level, whether it’s logical or not, thinks there’s something they did wrong,” she says. “And a lot of women feel their bodies have betrayed them.”
Helbert says, when comforting someone who has suffered a loss, people should be sensitive and mindful. Reassure them it wasn’t their fault and don’t try and point out a bright side. Instead of a blanket question like “What can I do to help?” offer something tangible, like bringing dinner or watching their older children. She also says sharing your own experience can be powerful.
“Everybody’s story is different and individual, but it helps knowing you’re not alone,” says Helbert. “We live in a culture that tells us to get happy as soon as possible, but grief is not your enemy. Grief is not a bad thing; it’s a normal response to the loss of something precious. Learning how to carry that loss is huge.”
Laura Anders Lee is a freelance writer and mother of two sons.
