Seven years ago, I had my first miscarriage. I already had a daughter, so I was met with comments like, “At least you have a child,” “At least it happened early,” or, “At least you know you can get pregnant.” None of that helped. And the silence from those who chose not to mention it told me that the death of my baby meant nothing to them. I felt like I had to keep it private, which isolated me.
My husband and I then had another pregnancy and lost that baby as well. I got really angry after that, because I could see that if one in four pregnancies ends in loss, then I couldn’t be the only
