Why Don't We Talk About It?

 Have you ever noticed that there are certain things in life that we just don't talk about?

Maybe it's just me, and the general public circles that I grew up around, but it seems as though there are certain things that just aren't shared. Ever. Even though they are fairly common experiences that pretty much everyone deals with at some point in their life. Yet those topics, and any experience related to them, are rarely discussed. It's almost like they are taboo. And, if by chance the topic is brought up, it is kind of in a "hush-hush, don't tell anyone" manner, and it is a very short, surface-level conversation that is quickly moved on to another "non-taboo" topic. Why? Why don't we talk about it?

Currently, the topic on my mind is miscarriages. Why don't we talk about them? Why are they kept secret, as if they are something shameful? Why don't we share about them? Just because we don't talk about them doesn't mean they don't happen, or keep them from happening.

I know.

I know because I recently had a miscarriage. And I knew next to nothing about it because I have never heard anyone talk about it, even though I would guess that a large portion of the women I have known have also experienced a miscarriage. I was told that one in three pregnancies ends in a miscarriage, so it's not something extremely rare. How is it, then, that most people are quick to share their experience with carrying a baby to term - sometimes even the nitty-gritty details that you really didn't care to hear - yet nothing is ever shared about experiencing a miscarriage? Why don't we talk about it?

It wasn't that long ago that I realized I was pregnant. And, I had just recently told Jason that Little Pumpkin might have a sibling sometime next year. I finally went to the doctor's office to start the preliminary stuff to establish myself as a patient on a Tuesday. The very next evening, while I was at work, the miscarriage started. And, I was at a bit of a loss as to what I should do.

Was there something that I needed to do? Do I have to call the doctor? What should I expect to happen so that I would know if something else is going wrong? Do I need to go to the hospital? And, how do I know for sure that I had miscarried? Because I have never heard anyone talk about it. Ever. I honestly didn't quite know what to do.

In the weeks prior to that Wednesday evening, I experienced random sharp pains occasionally, but nothing that caused me to be overly concerned. When I had a few other minor, random things happen, I did Google "how to tell if you're having a miscarriage." I read a few articles from WebMD, a few articles on pregnancy and parenting websites, and some discussion forums on similar websites. While there was some helpful information on there, there really wasn't a ton such that I knew what to expect when it happened. The few things I read that seemed helpful basically said: unless you're bleeding more than "x" amount an hour, you may, or may not, be having a miscarriage; and, if you pass tissue then you probably had a miscarriage. The two small bits of information about miscarriages that I could barely remember actually hearing is that they are most common within the first 8-12 weeks of pregnancy. And, that you have to take a special trip to the doctor afterwards. But it's kept "hush-hush" so that no one knows, of course.

While I was reading things on Google, the procedure "D & C" was mentioned more than once. And, that you could be completely knocked out, as opposed to just local anesthesia, for such a procedure. That piece of information conjured up in my mind that I had heard a rumor at some point in my life that a procedure has to be done after a miscarriage. Whether that memory was accurate, or not, I have no idea. But, when I was trying to figure out what to do in the midst of the miscarriage, that thought was in the back of my mind.

On Wednesday evening, when blood seemed to be gushing uncontrollably, I was 99.9% sure I was having a miscarriage. My first thought was to try and control the bleeding so that I didn't leave a puddle on the floor. Not an easy task. Second, I needed to be able to leave work, even if just for a bit to get supplies and a change of clothes, but I didn't know if I needed to go to the hospital, or not. One of the things I had read earlier on Google was that if you passed tissue, you needed to call your doctor. While trying to manage everything that I had going on, I Googled, "how to tell the difference between tissue and blood clots." I really had no idea. And the only information garnered from the search was: tissue is gray. Well, that's helpful! With the mess I was dealing with, how I was supposed to be able to tell if something was gray? There really wasn't a lot of concrete information that I could find.

After calling Jason, and finding someone to come relieve me at work as soon as they could get there, I called the doctor's office. Because I really had no idea what I needed to do, if anything. When the on-call doctor returned my phone-call, one of the things he asked was, "Have you passed any tissue?" Well, I didn't really know; everything was kind of a big mess. The doctor highly recommended going to the Emergency Room as soon as possible so they could see exactly what was going on, and see if they needed to try and control the bleeding.

After I was able to leave work, I went home to change and talk to Jason.

I was in very minimal pain. Yes, I was bleeding a lot, but did I really need to go to the E.R.? Could I just wait out the process at home? But, I was also wondering if you had to have that "D & C" procedure (dilation and curettage) after a miscarriage. If so, is that why I should go to the E.R.? Poor Jason - he knew even less than I did about any of this stuff, and, if I went to the E.R., he was wondering if he should go along. I told him it was completely up to him; I wasn't going to tell him he had to go, but I wasn't going to tell him he couldn't go. I honestly didn't know what normal protocol would be in this situation. However, if I did have to have this "procedure" because I miscarried, I didn't know if I would be able to drive myself home. On the other hand, I did not want to take Little Pumpkin into the E.R. with us, so if he was going to accompany me, we needed to figure out what to do with her.

Little Pumpkin was already in bed by the time I got home, and Jason decided to see if his Mom would come stay with her. I went ahead to the emergency room, still wondering if it was really necessary for me to go. By the time Jason was able to come, they had me in a room and were doing a sonogram, and five different people had asked me the same set of questions that included, "Have you passed any tissue?" I still didn't know, and I still didn't know how I was supposed to know. And, no one tried to explain to me how I was supposed to know.

After they finished with the sonogram, I really had to use the facilities. I procured the little sample in a cup that they requested (you know what I'm talking about), and was finishing my visit when that tissue that everyone had been asking about came through. It was obvious. So obvious that if it had happened prior to being at the hospital, I still would have known what had happened. It was at that point that I told Jason I was 100% sure there was no little sibling for Pumpkin, and I began to question even more if I really had to have come to the E.R.

The nurse practitioner came in and said the sonogram confirmed what I already knew, gave me some restrictions (no hot-tubs, no soaking baths, etc.), and said to make an appointment with my doctor. And I went home. There was no special procedure that had to be done just because I had miscarried, there was nothing they did besides take a sonogram and a lot of blood-work, and there was nothing I could have done any differently prior to going to the E.R.

So did I really have to go?

I had an appointment two days later with my doctor, and I asked her, "Do you have to go to the hospital, or the doctors office, when you are having a miscarriage?" I also told her that I really had no idea what to expect when it started happening. She herself said that it is really unfortunate that we don't talk about miscarriages. That for some reason society has placed a negative stigma around miscarriages as if they are something to be ashamed of; to be kept a secret. Yet miscarriages are common, and are typically the result of a chromosomal abnormality in which the baby cannot survive. She also told me that it is not required to go to the hospital when you are miscarrying. As with most things, if you use common sense and know to take action if something doesn't feel right, you are in a lot of pain, the bleeding doesn't slow down, etc., then you can take care of yourself at home and notify your doctor when the office is open. And that D & C procedure? It is only done if there are complications with the miscarriage that make it necessary. Every miscarriage does not require a procedure.

Throughout this whole experience, I felt like I learned first-hand a lot of things that I could have already known. And, I wish I had known all of those things. I think it would have taken away some of the uncertainty of "what should I do?" A few days later, I sat down and talked to Jason about it.

About how I wish I had known more going into that experience instead of doing it blind. That I was pretty certain other people that I know have experienced a miscarriage. Yet I've never heard a word about miscarriages besides those one or two rumors that I had caught wind of at some point in my life.

I realize that having a miscarriage is a difficult thing to have happen. It can be devastating. It is something that needs to be processed, and grieved. That was a little baby that you were carrying that you will never get to see, or hold, in this lifetime. But why do we feel that it needs to be kept a secret? Why do we not share with each other so we can be supportive, grieve together, and be there for others in that process? Why do we not share so that others know better of what to expect, watch for, and how to handle the situation if it ever happens to them?

I will state again that I know that having a miscarriage is an emotionally difficult experience. I also know that people handle things differently, and grieve and process in different ways. I guess, however, that I wish it was not such a taboo subject in that it is hardly ever talked about. People are fairly quick these days to announce their pregnancies. And, people are becoming more and more open (and descriptive) in sharing their birthing stories. Yet I never hear anyone sharing about a miscarriage. I think some people would say, "It is a private, personal thing. My little baby, that I so desperately longed for, died, and I will never get to see or hold him/her." I get that; grieving a loss is personal. But when a fully grown baby, or an adult passes away, it is rarely kept a secret. I would also go so far as to say that it's usually publicized for all the world to know that someone has passed away. Yet for that tiny, little baby that God created, and then took home to be with Him, it seems we feel as though we need to keep it a secret. Why?

As I stated earlier, maybe it is just the social circles that I grew up in, and am currently around. Maybe there is a population out there that shares just as openly about their miscarriage experience as they do their birthing stories. I don't know. But, I do know that I don't want to harbor it as a deep, dark, shameful secret that no one can ever find out. Yes, it is sad. Yes, it is a grieving process that I'm still trying to figure out. Yes, it was, and is, a very personal experience that I, or actually we, are still navigating. But that little baby was our baby. It was a sibling, a niece, or nephew, and a grandchild. And, for whatever reason, God took our little child home when they were only 4-6 weeks along.

I'm not wanting us to become desensitized to, or to celebrate, miscarriages. But, I find it kind of sad, and frustrating, that it is not something we feel that we can talk about. I personally don't want to continue the shameful, or negative, stigma surrounding miscarriage by keeping it a secret. And, maybe by sharing about my experience with a miscarriage I can help someone else that might experience it, too.

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