Kindness and Silence

Miscarriages do funny things to people. Not funny haha. Funny as in they behave in ways you may not expect. I think in some ways when someone goes through something like a miscarriage people show their true colors.

The past week I’ve experienced silence I never expected. The friend who has herself experienced a miscarriage and is currently pregnant from an IVF cycle in which I held her hand through the entire process has yet to say a word to me. My parents have been content to only get updates through H, sending one lone email about how it’s still safe to talk to them, but not checking in with me once. My brother (although it IS possible he doesn’t know, if he hasn’t read his email from H and my parents haven’t told him, but I’m not totally sure). Friends who seemed like they were there all of a sudden can’t manage a text to say “I’m sorry.” And I get, sometimes people just don’t know what to say. But saying nothing at all feels more damaging and lonely than saying the wrong thing. Although if anyone decides to say “it wasn’t meant to be” I might have to slug them.

But the kindness? The kindness has been immeasurable. From Dr. A., who performed Friday’s scan and was so sincerely sad for us. To nurse S who has been there for hugs after both scans and didn’t let go until I did. To M, who came out for a picnic lunch with her daughter and was content to just let me sit there in silence. To B and L who constantly checked in to see how I was doing. To friends of friends, like K, who sincerely grieve with you, having been there and never wanting anyone to have to go through what they have.

To J, a new friend, herself pregnant and battling severe morning sickness, who felt so helpless and so heartbroken for me she texted me to tell me she’d left something on my porch. And I went downstairs to find this:
. Left with a card that said, simply, “There is nothing to say. there is nothing to do. No uplifting words of encouragement will change a thing. But, I had to do something. I am here. I am thinking of you. You are in my prayers. Your friend, J.”

The silence hurts. But the kindness. The kindness is overwhelming.


7 thoughts on “Kindness and Silence

  1. I wouldnt wish anything less for you in this situation then to be surrounded by endless of amounts of love and support. For those who could not find it within themselves to be selfless, I have no words. For those who are able to hold you up, despite not knowing what to do or say (which, btw, there is NEVER the right thing to say in this situation), I say, perfect. And, as disappointing as it can be when the people you expect to support you dont, it can be equally as heartwarming to see an uprising from the ones you’d have never thought would. Lots of love to you my friend.

  2. The only thing to say really is : I’m sorry, this sucks. It sucks more than almost anything in the world. It sucks that it has to happen to anyone, but it really sucks that it has to happen to YOU.
    Silence is horrible. When a very close friend of mine’s mother was dying so many people just up and disappeared. “they don’t know how to handle death and grief” was the common excuse.. well guess what, neither did I but I wasn’t about to abandon my friend OR her mother…. and I’m sure as shit not going to abandon you.
    This sucks. I’m sorry. I wish I could make it not true, but I can’t. All I can do is cry with you and hold your hand, and wait for whatever comes next.

  3. I think ART scares people into silence. I am still waiting for the in laws to acknowledge our most recent loss. I don’t see it coming.

    Silence from your own family must be especially painful.

    You have local ART friends. What a treasure.

    I am sorry for your loss. The pain lingers.

  4. I am so, so glad you have wonderful friends like J who are there for you whether they “know how to be” or not. Those kindnesses are such a blessing. At the same time, as we both know better than we would like to, the silences suck. I send you (((hugs))) today and will continue to, whether you need them or not. So buckle up.

  5. It really does seem to bring out some people’s true colors. Others just seem too scared or uncomfortable or some other unknown emotion to say anything, which of course hurts.

    Your friend J’s actions and words brought tears to my eyes. What a beautiful person.

    Still thinking of you all.

  6. People are so funny when faced with things that are hard to face. It really is amazing how many people “ignore it” in the hopes that it will just go away. We saw this when Natalie was born too. No one to visit us in the hospital, no flowers, nothing. You know the people who love you both and I hope you know where you can turn when you need a shoulder. This is hard, harder than most things that you can think about. Losing a child no matter how long you got to hold them just sucks. Hugs for you today mama. ❤

  7. I’m so sorry for your loss. Mine was 6 weeks ago, and it still hurts. It will get better, but I’m not sure if the pain gets better, or you just get used to it always being there.

    I was really surprised how many of my friends barely acknowledged our loss… and how others came out of the wood work to offer support. I think some people just don’t know how to deal with grief, so just don’t. It really sucks because it really made me feel abandoned.

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