"After great pain," Emily Dickinson once wrote, "a formal feeling comes." Indeed, a tragedy such as miscarriage or stillbirth can make a woman feel as if every friend is suddenly a stranger, as if no one can understand her particular circumstance. The effort to overcome this loneliness must be made by those of us who are close to the woman who has suffered.
Elizabeth McCracken describes her own feeling of alienated grief in her recent memoir about giving birth to a stillborn baby, An Exact Replica of a Figment of My Imagination. "It surprised me every time I saw someone who didn't mention it," she writes. "I am trying to remember what I have thought when I've done the same thing, all those times I didn't mention some great sadness upon seeing someone for the first time. Did I really think that by not saying words of consolation aloud, I was doing people a favor? As though to mention sadness I was 'reminding' them of the terrible thing?"
There were two things McCracken wanted the most from those trying to support her: She wanted, as evidenced by her quote above, people to say something—as opposed to nothing—and, when they did, she wanted them to speak the truth. The contributors to Jessica Berger Gross's anthology, About What Was Lost: 20 Writers on Miscarriage, Healing and Hope, second McCracken's desires. "When people tried to comfort me with some version of 'It's all for the best,' I wanted to scream," confesses Emily Bazelon. "I knew that most miscarriages involve a chromosomal defect, but the statistics weren't me. I didn't want to hear that my babies were better off not having been born." And yet talking is also what truly helped nearly all of these women—as long as the conversation allowed them to be open and heard and not, as McCracken describes it, "corseted by politeness."
Perhaps the best advice, then, is to know what not to do, as doing the wrong thing can happen so easily. Starting with Bazelon's suggestion, here are five things that one should avoid in comforting friends after a trauma like this.
1. Do not resort to clichés or platitudes when you console, such as "It was meant to be" or "This is what nature wanted." In all likelihood, your friend will sense that you're hiding behind words, and she will feel further alienated by your fearfulness or your unwillingness to face the reality of what has happened.
2. It's also not helpful to rush toward optimism, making comments like "You'll forget all about this when you have a baby." Although many women have conceded that giving birth does indeed ease the pain, there is no guarantee this will happen for everyone. Women who have just lost a baby are keenly aware of the chance and vulnerability involved in trying to have a child. Quietly acknowledging this is another way of acknowledging your friend's loss—not just of her baby but also of a certain amount of protective innocence.
3. Do not stop trying to get in touch. If you leave a phone message and don't hear back, don't be discouraged. Continue to check in at reasonable intervals to see if your friend would like to talk or if she needs anything. Similarly, if you write a letter or drop off food or movies or flowers, don't expect a response during this grief-stricken time. More than likely, your efforts aren't going unappreciated, even if your friend cannot rouse herself to thank you.
4. Do not make broad offers of help, like "If there is anything I can do, let me know." Think of something specific to suggest doing for or with your friend—something that you know she enjoys—to distract her from her sorrow. By offering something concrete, like going for a walk or taking her to get a pedicure, you remove the burden of coming up with what she needs on her own.
5. Do not forget how long the process of mourning can take. After a few days, a few weeks, a few months, don't expect her to have moved on. Everyone recovers at her own pace, and sadly, almost nobody recovers as quickly as the world at large does, rushing by the experience.
