On Miscarriage and Body Image

Miscarriage. The word itself can be hard to say. It tends to be spoken in hushed tones. Sometimes, people seem unable to say it at all.

When I think of some of the worst moments in my life, my miscarriages top the list. I have gone through three of these confusing experiences of ambiguous loss. Each one was lonelier than the last.

Something uniquely difficult about miscarriage is that it is not a “tupperware loss.” By that I mean, it is not the type of loss that many people acknowledge. Folks don’t come by with dinner in tupperware containers. There is no formalized grieving process that society collectively upholds. People tend to shy away from even mentioning it, actually. As if they’re scared of “saying the wrong thing.” I had a (very well-intentioned) friend once say, “I just don’t want to bring it up and make you think about it and then trigger all those hard emotions.” “Oh no, you have this all wrong,” I remember wanting to say. “Don’t worry about making me think about something that I am quite literally always thinking about. Don’t worry about triggering me. I spent all day every day triggered.”

I experienced intense body-loathing during and after these losses- it was absolutely visceral.

“How could you?” I can recall internally hissing. “You literally had an embryo inserted into you with a catheter. All you have to do is work. Why won’t you work?” I remember calling my body a failure, and other names. Others have shared with me that they thought that their body was defective, wrong, bad. Others still have described spiraling into wondering about the “message” their body was sending them by letting these losses occur (i.e. messages about punishment, etc.).

You see, the experience of post-miscarriage body loathing is more of a rule, rather than an exception. It feels sort of like whiplash. Your body was preparing for pregnancy- and depending on how far along you were, there were changes already happening. Milk ducts swelling. Stomachs expanding. Internal muscles and organs stretching and shifting. You may have been experiencing nausea, fatigue, and other physical sensations. And then, in what feels like a lifetime and an instant at once, this all stops. The body shifts back-without any consent from you, I might add. One day pregnant, and the next-not. It’s a difficult phenomenon to understand, to fully grasp as it’s happening. And it all happens inside one’s body-sometimes basically imperceptible to anyone else. But for the person going through it, it feels all-consuming, confusing, and sometimes shrouded by a creeping sense of failure.

All of these experiences can stir up feelings about your body- even feelings that you may have thought you had “moved past.” Research has found that after a miscarriage, the majority of folks report feeling alienated from their bodies. This feeling-that your body is no longer home-is a precarious place to reside. It’s easy to slip into a self-punishing mindset when you begin to separate yourself from your body in this way. And any of the normal body positivity chatter about “appreciating and celebrating our bodies” seems totally off-base- or even infuriating.

The only thing that makes sense (to me at least) is to allow all of these emotions and thoughts to wash over you. Yes- that includes intense body loathing. Don’t try to fight it or even shake free from it (at least at first). Honor that these feelings are because this loss- the loss that many others won’t ever even know about- is real.It’s real, and its excruciating, and it is evidence of love. And sometimes, when grief is this big, and things hurt this badly, we need a place to funnel the pain. If body loathing is that place for you in this moment, that’s ok. That has to be ok.  

For so many that I speak to, inviting these body loathing emotions in is crucial. Because this then opens to door to sit with and process their lessons. Some of these lessons might be as simple as that you had loved, and then you experienced deep, real loss. You might learn that you had allowed yourself to hope and then experienced that wrenching pain when this vulnerable place of hope was not rewarded. And you might realize that you desperately need a place to project that pain.

For me, these steps were varied and at times, painful and scary. I made art, I wrote letters to my babies, I wrote extensively about grief. I read-books about pregnancy loss, books about ambiguous grieving, books about the concept of hope. I spoke- to friends who felt safe, to my partner, to a miscarriage doula. And at some point, I began to forgive my body, just a little. “I will always feel betrayed by you” I can remember thinking one day after closing my book about the stages of grief. “But I feel ready to dip my toe into the idea that you are still home.”

“I’m sorry,” She whispered back. “I tried so hard. I know you know. We tried so hard, and it will always hurt. It will always ache. But I’m still here trying for you. For us. And this is still home. Welcome home my love.”

In love and mama-camaraderie,

Colleen

*Sending love to anyone going through pregnancy loss. Your pain is real, and important. Don’t let anyone snatch it away from you. You are worthy, and your grief is worthy of time and space. If you reside in PA, and are looking for therapy to support you through this process, please visit my therapy practice website. One of our speciality areas is maternal mental health, and we provide in-person therapy to folks in the Philly area, and virtual therapy to anyone residing in PA.