Why I’m Not A Miscarriage ‘Survivor’
First things first…
Okay, so for anyone who isn’t already familiar with my story, technically I am a ‘miscarriage survivor’. After all, I have experienced not just one, but three consecutive pregnancy losses over the past couple of years, as well as the birth of my first (and only) living son who is now five.
What’s more, despite endless screenings and medical tests, the cause of my recurrent miscarriage condition remains ‘unexplained’, which means that there’s no clear road map for treatment or a cure ahead.
And having lived with this slow creeping grief for almost three years now, I know that on paper I more than quality for the label of ‘miscarriage survivor’… but it’s just that I have begun to really hate this term.
Why I hate this term
I know that ‘miscarriage survivor’ is a well-meaning and fairly commonly used term in infertility circles, but there are several reasons why I don’t like using it about myself.
Firstly, I think it’s an ill-fitting phrase because I am not a ‘survivor’. I didn’t overcome a life-threatening illness like cancer, heart failure or stroke. I lost a baby in utero (well, three in fact). And in the end, miscarriage really isn’t about survival at all. It’s about accepting a death and working through that grief.
But secondly, and perhaps more importantly too, I don’t like using the term because I don’t want to be defined by what I have lost, or even what I have emotionally journeyed through and ‘survived’. I’d much rather be defined by what I have ‘overcome’.
Facing hard things
I recently finished reading ‘Untamed’ by Glennon Doyle, and my biggest takeaway from the her book was this: Life can be really hard sometimes, but I am capable of doing hard things.
“I am capable of doing hard things”
- Glennon Doyle
I already knew this at some level of course, long before I read this book. We are all capable of doing hard things - and many of us frequently do. Human resilience is an incredible thing.
But hard things also mark you too, and leave you permanently changed. So today the world around me feels less sure than I was ever taught to expect, and the ground beneath my feet less firm.
Today my body feels more broken than I ever imagined it to be, and my human disposition feels more real.
And any spiritual certainty that I once held so to firmly, also now feels much less formulaic and assured.
How I am changed
Miscarriage hasn’t been an easy part of my story, but one positive take away I have is that I am stronger and braver for walking through it.
I now know that I can walk through the hardest of heartbreaks, and although it might hurt for a time, I won’t be consumed by the sadness. I will learn to laugh again.
I can have my dreams shattered not just once but again and again, and although I will feel disappointed, I won’t be broken beyond repair. I will dare to dream again.
I can face endless uncertainty and exist in a state of emotional limbo, not just for months but for years and years, and although it might feel uncomfortable, I won’t be left completely untethered by it. I have discovered the joy of simply living in today.
I can sit with others in the midst of their pain, and even when their suffering lingers, know that I don’t need to fix it or have all the answers. I have learned to listen and relate.
And most of all, now I know that I can face my very worst fears, and even stare death in the face more than once, and yet it won’t defeat me. I know that death doesn’t get the final say.
I had always hoped that these things were true about me, but now I know it for sure.
Life is hard, but I can do hard things. I am stronger and braver than I ever dared to imagine.
Not a survivor, but warrior
As my husband Andy and I approach the end of our fertility journey this autumn, I remain painfully aware that life can sometimes throw you the most unexpected curved balls. Bad things do actually happen to good people, over and over again. And it all seems so damn unfair sometimes.
But as humans I think we each have an incredible capacity hard-wired into us for doing hard things. And not for just surviving life’s knocks either, but actually being reshaped by them and becoming braver and more resilient.
This is why I am challenged not to talk about myself or any other women as a ‘miscarriage survivor’ anymore: I am not just a survivor, I am a warrior. I have battled recurrent miscarriage for almost three years, and have not been defeated by it.
It may well have defeated my body, but I am not a victim because I am not passive in the face of my suffering. I didn’t choose unexplained miscarriage to rob me of my plans to grow a family, but I do get to choose what I do with that experience now that is has.
And whether or not we ever get our rainbow baby, I know that I have already fought the hardest battle - which is the one inside of myself - and have won.
And I will continue to fight alongside others who walk this same path of brokenness too.
Life can be really hard, but we are all capable of doing really hard things.
