The M Word.

Hey everybody,

I’m writing today about something incredibly important. This is strictly my opinion, based on my own experiences and conversations I’ve had with a lot of my customers, my wife, and some close friends and family.

The word is miscarriage.

That’s right — I said it. Let me say it again: miscarriage. It’s a word that carries pain, grief, sadness, and so many other feelings. In my belief, if we talked about it more openly, it might become a little easier to carry.

I want to be clear up front: I have not lived the physical experience that so many women have gone through. This tragic event affects women locally, provincially, nationally, and around the world. My wife and I did lose a baby at about the eight-week mark, but I did not feel what she felt in her body. What I can share is what it was like from where I stood.

The Day Everything Changed

It was the morning of our 12-week ultrasound. My coworkers already knew we were expecting. I’m sure some people are thinking, “They didn’t wait three months?” We didn’t. Finding out you’re expecting—when you want children — is one of the most exciting things that can happen. I believe in sharing happiness, so we shared it. I also needed a few hours off work to be at the appointment to meet “Baby X.”

Our appointment was in the early afternoon. I finished my morning work, met my wife at the clinic, and in we went.

That’s when it hit.

Anyone who’s been through these ultrasounds knows how hard they can be. The technicians have a really difficult job. They can see what’s on the screen, but they aren’t allowed to tell you. They watch two people waiting to hear a heartbeat, and then the appointment quietly turns into just taking pictures. Within a few minutes, my wife and I both knew something wasn’t right. The tech stayed professional and elusive—exactly what the job requires. We still had to wait for confirmation from my wife’s doctor. Somehow we composed ourselves and finished the day.

When I got back to work, a few people in my work family noticed the change in me right away. They could tell something was wrong. My supervisor simply said, “If you need anything, just say the word,” and then gave me space. That mattered. Because I had already talked about the pregnancy with the people around me, they had context. They didn’t need the full story to offer support. Later that day the phone rang. My wife’s doctor confirmed what we already knew in our hearts: our baby had stopped growing at eight weeks.

It was a dark day for both of us. It also meant my wife needed a procedure —a D&C— to remove the fetus. That’s one part of pregnancy and loss I will never fully understand. What I do know is that she wasn’t alone. I stayed by her side as much as I was allowed. She also had an incredible healthcare team. I still remember her saying afterward how glad she was that it was that particular team.

What Openness Gave Us

I will never fully comprehend how the loss felt for my wife. It hits differently when it’s your body. She chose to share our loss on social media, which I thought was incredibly brave. The number of women who reached out to tell their own stories was staggering. Being open about both the pregnancy and the miscarriage helped us work through the grief. That won’t be true for everyone, but it was true for us.

At the same time, I know how quickly the questions can start: Did I not eat right? Did I exercise enough? Did I take enough vitamins? What did I do wrong?

The Thing I Most Want You to Hear

If you have been through a miscarriage, or if you ever go through one, I need you to know this:

Most miscarriages are not caused by anything the pregnant person did or didn’t do. They are often the result of developmental problems that could not have been prevented.

I’ll say it again, a little differently:

You did nothing wrong. It is Mother Nature doing her thing. It is awful and painful, but it was not, is not, and will not be your fault.

Why We Need to Talk About It

Don’t be afraid to talk about miscarriage. Society has spent a long time treating it like a topic that should stay private. In my opinion, the things we refuse to talk about become the whetstones that sharpen the blade that cuts into our psyche.

Silence doesn’t protect us. It just leaves people carrying the weight alone.

If you’ve been through this, or if you’re supporting someone who has, I hope you’ll consider speaking about it a little more openly. It made a difference for us. It might make a difference for someone else too.