Miscarriage & Womanhood: Breaking the Stigma of Loss

The word miscarriage has always felt off to me. For the longest time, I despised the word because it stirred something deeply unsettling in me. I remember the first time I heard the word, and I went, “Who named this experience?” The word miscarriage is a word I associate with blame because when you take the word at its base meaning, it means to carelessly carry something. When the prefix mis is attached to words, it almost always has a negative connotation. Misdemeanor, misandry, mishandling, mistake. The dictionary definition of the prefix mis generally means “wrong” or “incorrectly,” which is why I take issue with it.

The Blame Hidden in the Word

Those who share in this grief know the undeniable truth: the woman is never at fault. But the term to miscarry always puts the blame on the woman, and by extension, has become something that women are too ashamed to speak about. It creates a state of mind in women in which they believe they must have breathed wrong, sent the wrong signals, not eaten the right food, and that somewhere, somehow, an action they took resulted in the loss they now experience.

But we know that’s not true. Yet it is so difficult, honestly, near impossible to convince a woman experiencing loss that she’s not at fault. That is a loss that permanently changes you. Sure, you can find ways to function, but the experience becomes woven into your identity and, as such, cannot be separate from your being.

With the weight of such loss, I cannot fathom how it was considered acceptable to create the term ‘miscarriage.’ It is like the final nail in the coffin of ‘As a woman, this is your fault!’ I understand this was a term that first appeared in the 1500s, a time when language around women’s bodies was shaped almost entirely without women’s voices. And it is worth noting that medical terminology has historically been defined by those who did not experience these conditions firsthand, and the language of loss is no exception. But now that we are in the 21st century, we should not be okay with women feeling less than simply because they experienced such a loss.

The Silent Statistics of Loss

Did you know that 10-15% of recognized pregnancies end in miscarriage? This statistic only covers women who have confirmed they were pregnant; imagine how much higher the statistic would be if we included women who were unaware of their pregnancy. Behind every percentage point is a woman who may have grieved silently, without a name for what she lost, and without a community to hold her. This means that miscarriages are more prevalent than we know. Each of us might know a woman who has experienced the loss of a baby and not even realize it. Yes, to lose a baby is to lose part of your heart, and I respect the decision to keep it private; after all, nobody needs to know the intimate details of your life. However, you who have experienced this loss should not be treated as a failure or have to suffer the internal and external stigmas that follow a miscarriage. They say Rome wasn’t built in a day, so I believe that brick by brick, we can come together and make a stand against the stigma that still surrounds miscarriages to this day.

To the Woman Reading This

I will hold your hand and say this:

You are enough. You did not breathe wrong or do something wrong that led to your loss. You are strong, beautiful, and will breathe again. Everything will not always be alright. If there are days when you find it difficult to cope, find your safe space (your room, a basement, a trail, the top of a mountain) and scream into the world. Say everything you are feeling at that point, and just pour out your heart and be honest with your body. Make it a ritual to find your pockets of happiness even in this time of loss. It might take years, decades, or even forever before you find your pace, but you can do it, and you will survive.

You are not alone, and support exists: