The first time I encountered the term “miscarriage,” I was just a child, around 9 or 10 years old. I was having a fun time playing in my neighbor’s yard when the topic of siblings emerged. “I have two brothers or sisters in heaven,” she said. My imagination immediately painted a picture of her mother pushing a stroller that suddenly tipped over, leading to the heartbreaking loss of a baby. This distorted image has lingered with me, and to this day, it resurfaces whenever I hear the word “miscarriage.”
The truth is, our society often glosses over the harsher realities of life, including death, grief, and loss. “Miscarriage” is one of those uncomfortable truths. My issue with this term is that it sugarcoats a profoundly painful experience—one that deserves recognition for its rawness and reality.
Understanding the Impact of the Term
Firstly, the term itself fails to capture the essence of what it truly represents: a death, a profound loss, and an aftermath filled with grief. It diminishes the chaos, the shattered hopes, and the dreams that accompany such an event. Secondly, it often places undue blame on the mother. For example, when my childhood friend mentioned her mother’s two miscarriages, it felt as though the implication was that her mother had a choice in the matter. You never hear someone say, “Did you hear about Tom? He had a miscarriage.” Instead, it’s always, “Oh, poor Tom; his wife had a miscarriage.”
You may be wondering why this topic resonates so deeply with me. Yes, I experienced the loss of two children during pregnancy. It’s a nightmare that no expecting parent should ever have to endure. The term “miscarriage” feels woefully inadequate and misleading—just a flimsy label to make others feel more comfortable.
A Personal Journey
My aversion to the word intensified when I became pregnant for the first time. Reading through pregnancy guides that frequently referenced “miscarriage” only added to my anxiety. Then, at 11 weeks into my pregnancy, I faced my own loss. I still vividly recall that day in the ultrasound room—the dim lights, the initially chatty technician who suddenly went silent. The look on her face was all I needed to know that something was wrong.
The following morning, before dawn, I found myself in the hospital for a D&C, or dilation and curettage. I dreaded the procedure, the thought of having my baby removed in a sterile, cold environment. But I was told it was necessary. The dreaded word slipped from my lips more often than I would like to admit. From registering at the hospital to my conversations with nurses and my doctor, “miscarriage” was a term I was forced to repeat.
After my first loss, I really hoped to never utter that word again. Unfortunately, a year later, I experienced another loss, and once again, my medical team recorded “miscarriage” in my file. Eight years later, whenever I visit a new doctor or fill out medical forms, there it is again—this term that feels so trivial compared to the gravity of what actually occurred. I often find myself wanting to cross it out and replace it with “pregnancy loss” or even “in utero death,” but I hold back, refusing to diminish the weight of the experience.
Rethinking the Terminology
What, then, is the appropriate term? I’m not sure, but I believe it’s a conversation worth having. Why do we use “miscarriage” when “pregnancy loss” is a more accurate description? Are we trying to shield ourselves from the harsh realities of life? I refuse to accept that. I didn’t have a miscarriage; I lost my babies. That’s the truth, and I will not soften it. I hope that one day, society will come to share this perspective.
If you’re interested in learning more about pregnancy and home insemination, I recommend checking out this excellent resource. Additionally, for a convenient home insemination option, visit Make a Mom. For more information about home insemination kits, see this post.
Conclusion
In summary, the term “miscarriage” fails to encapsulate the complexity of pregnancy loss. It trivializes a painful experience and often places unnecessary blame on women. Society needs to confront the reality of such losses rather than sugarcoat them.