It’s a phrase often said with good intentions but can carry a weight of complicated emotions. After my miscarriage, I heard the words “everything happens for a reason” countless times. Even today, they still echo in my mind. While those who offered this sentiment meant well, it often ignited a deep and fiery anger within me—an emotion I felt was inappropriate to express in polite conversation. I would smile and nod, graciously accepting their sympathy, even though it was the last thing I wanted.
What I truly desired was my baby back. I wasn’t looking for well-meaning affirmations or offers of love and light. I felt a complex blend of anger, shame, and guilt with every overly cheerful text message promising support and a brighter future. In those early days of my loss, the pain was too fresh for me to believe that something so devastating could serve a higher purpose, no matter how wonderful that purpose might eventually be. Each platitude pushed me further into a self-imposed prison of grief.
I understood that my friends and family only wished to comfort me, but what were they expecting in return? Their words were intended as a balm for my open wound, but it seemed they only succeeded in soothing their own discomfort. Many ended their messages with, “You don’t have to respond, just know I’m here.” Honestly, I didn’t think they truly wanted a response. Expressing sympathy was one thing; engaging with my pain was another.
Years have passed since my miscarriage in October 2017, and I’ve been fortunate to welcome two beautiful daughters into my life. My rainbow baby arrived almost a year after my loss. Time has afforded me a different perspective on the saying “everything happens for a reason.” While I still have an aversion to the phrase, my feelings toward it have evolved.
The loss of my first pregnancy was one of the most challenging experiences I’ve faced. Its effects reached far and wide, impacting my subsequent pregnancies in various ways, filling me with fear and uncertainty. Yet, it also led to the birth of my daughter, whose existence is a truth I wrestle with daily. I love her with every fiber of my being, and I cannot imagine life without her—except that there’s a reality where she wouldn’t exist if things had gone differently. This fact is undeniable, but it doesn’t prove that everything happens for a reason.
Some days, I try to find solace in the idea of a grand plan, but it often leaves me feeling guilty, as if I’ve reduced my son’s brief life to a mere cosmic coincidence. Accepting that everything happens for a reason feels like a cop-out, and I refuse to diminish my son’s memory. As a compromise to myself, my son, and perhaps the universe, I remind myself that while something terrible happened, something beautiful emerged from the wreckage. I allow myself to embrace joy and love while still grieving for one child. I permit myself to love another without feeling like it’s a betrayal. This balance took time to achieve, and I still stumble; that’s okay too. Patience is key.
It’s estimated that 10-20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage, yet it remains a topic few discuss. Society tends to celebrate pregnant women, showering them with adoration and support, while the experience of loss is often overlooked. I was one of those women, excitedly sharing my pregnancy milestones. By seventeen weeks, I had decorated a nursery, complete with my son’s name on a custom sign. Then, one day, I was a joyful expectant mother, and the next, I wasn’t.
Instead of leaving the hospital with my baby, I was given supplies to manage my physical recovery and a bereavement package with resources to help navigate my loss. In the days following, as my milk came in and my body reacted to the absence of my child, I felt profoundly alone, a mother without a baby. I didn’t know what to say to people, and they were equally at a loss for words. There’s no guidebook for this kind of heartache.
How to Support a Friend or Loved One Who Has Experienced a Miscarriage
So, how do you support a friend or loved one who has experienced a miscarriage? Skip the platitudes. Save the love and light and heart emojis for another time. Simply acknowledge her loss and let her know you love her. If she’s open to it, ask her about her experience—did she have a name picked out? Offer practical support, like sending over a meal, while respecting her need for space.
Remember that everyone processes grief differently. You may truly believe that everything happens for a reason, and perhaps it does. But allow your friend to find her way through it at her own pace, if ever. Until then, simply listen or be patient until she’s ready to share. And don’t forget to bring food.
For further reading on related topics, check out this insightful resource on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
This article reflects on the complexity of grief following a miscarriage, particularly the phrase “everything happens for a reason.” It emphasizes the importance of acknowledging loss and providing genuine support to those experiencing such pain. The author shares her journey from loss to healing, ultimately allowing herself to embrace joy while still honoring her child’s memory.