Healing After Miscarriage
Up to 30% of pregnancies in the United States end in miscarriage. Nearly 50% of women experience depression, and 15% develop a clinical depressive disorder following miscarriage. These rates are alarming and continue to grow year after year. With such high statistics, it baffles me how few grief and mental health resources are offered to women post-miscarriage and postpartum. The trauma and emotional suffering women endure is widely known, yet the conversation around mental health following pregnancy loss is still taboo. Why aren’t we talking about this?
Candidly, it’s taken me a long time to write this. I have written and re-written this a million times. I’ve had difficulty genuinely grasping how having a miscarriage has changed me. I couldn’t articulate or verbalize how I felt, so writing about it has not been easy. It’s taken months to heal, and transparently, it’s been quite the journey. I’ve had time to think about how I want to share my story. This story is not about victory and triumph over PTSD and anxiety following pregnancy loss. This is not a story of how I quickly moved on with my life after my miscarriage; this is my truth. Because each woman’s experience with pregnancy loss is different, I’ve decided to share what my life looked like post-miscarriage and what I did and would have done differently to prioritize healing and mental health at that time.
My pregnancy was completely unplanned. With my career taking off and several other essential responsibilities occupying our time, we didn’t feel it was the right time to conceive. Although we had no immediate plans to begin a family, I knew (and still know) I was destined to be a mom. Steven and I owned a home, each of us landed stable jobs, and I trusted in divine timing that we’d know when we were ready. Much to our surprise, I became pregnant. Shortly after finding out, our first scan did not go as planned. There was no fetal heartbeat, and I knew something was wrong immediately.
Following my miscarriage, I experienced PTSD, depression, and anxiety. All of which I am lucky enough to say I had never experienced prior. I often awoke in the middle of the night with racing thoughts, wondering, “Am I ever going to be a mom?” or “Is my body capable of a viable pregnancy?” There were times I’d awaken in the morning and immediately begin to sob. I bled consistently for the first month post-miscarriage, which felt like a constant reminder of the loss. I had honestly never felt so low. When I expressed my concerns about my emotional state to my medical team, they quickly informed me that feelings of sadness and emptiness were completely normal and I’d feel much more like myself as the hormones continued to leave my body. They advised me that this process could take up to 3 months. I couldn’t understand how feeling this way was considered normal.
Per the advice of my medical team, I began to understand that mental and physical healing would take much longer than I’d expected. I decided to take some time off work to return to my best. While that time quickly flew by, I didn’t feel I had made progress emotionally. In conversations with friends and family, I told them I didn’t feel like myself but felt “much better” than week one. While taking time off from my job was necessary, I’d written off my sadness as normal and assumed I’d eventually begin to feel better. Unfortunately, this was not the case for me.
I felt guilty for feeling so sad. As a young woman, everyone told me I could try again, and they were sure I’d have a baby. I didn’t and still don’t feel ready to try again. Trying for another baby was not the emotional fix that I needed, especially considering we’d never tried in the first place. Over the next few months, I developed a resentment for Steven. I knew he was sad about what happened, but he didn’t feel like I did. He didn’t understand what I was going through.
Besides the emotional strife, physically, my body also changed. The hormone fluctuations caused weight gain and hair loss. None of my cute clothes fit. I felt like an alien in my body. This caused me to be short and disconnected in our relationship. I wondered if I’d ever feel like myself or if this was how I was destined to feel forever.
My Emotional Breakthrough
After a few months, I began to accept the loss. The fact that this was my reality became easier to grasp, but there was no doubt that I was a changed person. I was 27 years old and a complete shell of my former self. I was tired of feeling this way. I struggled with my weight in my early 20s but hadn’t had a physical setback since I began my fitness journey. In the past, when things got hard, I poured into myself physically. Countless hours in the gym, punching a heavy bag, or jump rope in the park. Physical exercise was the one constant I relied on to clear my energetic field and give me a boost of serotonin. I started by walking twice a day, doing hot yoga, and cleaning up my diet. From there, I began slowly exercising a few days a week to regain my muscle and potentially help balance my hormones.
I saw physical improvements in my body, and emotionally I started healing as well. As time progressed, so did I. I meditated on the beach, swam in the Gulf of Mexico, and healed my body from the inside out. I journaled once a week, attended group classes and meditation for spiritual healing, and studied more about spiritual practices. A privilege most women in similar circumstances do not have. I spent time evaluating my goals and my motivation for continuing on my journey and tapped into my higher calling. It didn’t feel like it at the time, but my miscarriage was a catalyst for change in my world.
If you or someone you know are experiencing pregnancy loss, here are a few things to remember:
Get The Help You Need. You are never too strong or too wise to consult a professional while grieving a loss. I had never scheduled a session with a therapist prior to miscarriage, and I felt I could handle it on my own. I was wrong. In reflecting on that time, having a professional coach Steven and I through our experience would have given each of us a greater perspective for the other’s emotions. He struggled to understand me, and I struggled to forgive him for that. I ignored the fact that he was also grieving, which was not fair to him. If you need to, it is okay to hire a grief counselor to help us navigate such a tumultuous time. There is no expectation to have all of the answers, it’s okay to recruit the help you need.
Don’t Rush The Healing Process. There is no timetable for healing. Take as much time as you need.
