6 Things You Should Never Say to a Mom Who’s Miscarried

I heard it all after I miscarried– the assumptions, the inappropriate questions, the WebMD–worthy diagnoses. And I get it. People don’t know what to do. Many, for the fear of saying the wrong thing simply say nothing at all and I understand that too. They don’t know how or when to bring it up, don’t want to make it awkward or you emotional, which almost always happens. But, regardless of your trepidation, I think it’s better to acknowledge it than not. You never know if they may really need it- or you- that day.

Lord knows I probably didn’t do or say the right things to friends and family who miscarried before my own ordeal—I didn’t understand how devastating it could be. But two years ago, I read an article Sheryl Sandberg wrote after she lost her husband that forever changed the way I spoke to people going through grief. She said, “Real empathy is sometimes not insisting that it will be okay but acknowledging that it is not.” When a friend is hurting, you want to make her feel better—it’s an altruistic instinct. But how do you know it’s going to be okay? What if it’s not? What if she’s not? The best comments I received were from strangers who had experienced miscarriage themselves and honestly owned up to the fact that it doesn’t get easier or less painful, that there will always be a hole in my heart. That resonated so much more with me than “it gets easier with time,” because really, no one wants to hear that. I didn’t. And I certainly didn’t believe it either.

If you’re struggling with what to say, consider trying this out: “I know you’re hurting and you have every right to be. Take as much time as you need to grieve. I’m here for you every step of the way.” Or sometimes just a great big hug should suffice. But whatever you do (or don’t do), it’s best to stay away from the following phrases:

1. You Poor Thing

I mentioned my miscarriage to a friend, and got this one-liner in response. To me, it came across as extremely condescending. I didn’t stub my toe, I lost a child. Worse, it was over text. And then she changed the subject. Here’s the thing: Pain shouldn’t be placated. A conversation like that is a perfect opportunity to follow up with something like, “How are you doing today?” or “Is there anything I can do?” Better yet, let her know you’re there to talk if she needs to. If someone’s addressing it, they’re giving you the chance to step up and be the friend they need. Take it. You never know when you’ll need it in return.

2. I don’t know what it’s like but…

No buts. No assumptions. You’re right, you don’t know what it’s like—and I hope you never do. To me, this feels like a need to fill the silence with something. Sometimes it’s okay to just listen, to hold her hand, to wait a beat for the next thought to cross her lips. Maybe she’s working something out. Or maybe she just needs to sit with a friend and feel the love. One of the most memorable moments throughout this entire journey was when I saw my friend for the first time after telling her the news over the phone. She saw me, gave me the biggest hug and then just sat in silence holding my hand as I cried. She cried too. For a few minutes, we just let go, together. There was no need for words and she got that. In that moment, she got me too, and I’m forever thankful for that.

3. I think I’d be able to get over that (however many weeks/months you were) but I cannot imagine losing a baby further along. 

I’m sure, on some level, this is meant to be comforting, as in, “it could be worse”. And it could. It always could. But in that moment, she’s grieving. It’s not the time for perspective. Let her come to that on her own. Try not to guide her thoughts, just let her feel. When this was said to me, it took me out of the moment, made it about them and then my emotions turned from sadness to anger. At them. This was beyond hurtful, as if my pain wasn’t valid because it was only a “short” amount of time. The loss of a baby is traumatic and painful, no matter how many months.

4. Did they say what caused it?

A fairly innocuous and curious question, you may think you’re showing concern, interest, creating conversation but all I heard was, “Were you to blame?” And I did plenty of that already. I was already racking my brain with “what if’s”, this just added to the guilt. Most of the time, there is no cause so you’re best just assuming that and leaving your curious side at home.

5. Have you been cleared (to have sex)?

I wish I was joking but I was actually asked this, which was way too personal and a sensitive subject at that moment. Trust me, the last thing I was thinking about was intercourse. I may have wanted to get pregnant again asap but would’ve preferred it be through immaculate conception.

6. Will you try again?

Again, too intrusive. I didn’t know yet so how was I supposed to answer them? My viewpoint changed daily if not hourly, it was dizzying and confusing. Don’t add to that pressure. At the risk of repeating myself, a “how are you feeling, physically, mentally, emotionally?” would be better than any of the three questions above. Again, stating that you’re there for them, love them, etc. is enough, your presence is enough, no need to search for more to say.

This article originally appeared on The Bump.