"At least it was early."

 

"At least it was early."

I heard these words more than once after #ihadamiscarriage . The phrase was intended to offer an encouraging pat on the back, but only added to the shame--that my pain was somehow misplaced and that my grieving process should be rushed. It felt as if the size of my grief needed to shift with the amount of weeks I carried each baby.

If you've walked through the pain of miscarriage, I'm guessing you've heard this phrase a few times too.

Yes, our miscarriages may have happened before we prepared the nursery. They may have happened before we reached the second trimester. They may have happened earlier than other losses we’ve experienced. Our miscarriages happened "early" and we mourn that.

We grieve how little we knew them.

We grieve that someone could feel like a stranger to us when we love them so fiercely.

We grieve the lack of memories.

We grieve that we never felt their kicks.

We grieve that we don't know what foods they would have made us crave or what kind of pregnancy we would have had.

We grieve that we don't know if they were boys or girls.

We grieve that we can only guess the color of their eyes or the color of their hair.

We grieve that there are no photographs.

We grieve that we never got to see their faces.

So yes, It *was* early. It was early and we grieve that.