'I don't want to try again. I wanted THIS baby.' The complexities of miscarriage.

This story includes discussion of pregnancy loss that may be distressing to some readers.

I am the one in five. 

The one in five women who has experienced a miscarriage before 20 weeks. 

This is a number that, on the surface, tells us pregnancy loss is quite common, yet it is still a topic that remains shrouded in secrecy. It's a number that tells us women are not alone in their grief – and yet, with so many of us having this experience, many of us think we should just move on, keep going when we suffer this kind of loss. 

It's a number that seems to offer solace, but for the people who have become that statistic, there is no comfort.

I wasn't prepared for the rollercoaster of emotions I would feel after I had a miscarriage. I had known quite a few people who, sadly, had been through this before and now, looking back, I don’t think I gave them enough time, thought or support while they were going through it. These days I'm far less pragmatic about the miscarriage, and understand just how complicated, intricate and individual the process can be.

Watch: Mia talks about feeling lost after miscarriage. Story continues after video.

My personal experience was a 'missed miscarriage' (where your body still thinks it's pregnant even though the pregnancy has stopped progressing) and the process that followed was one I never knew existed, let alone gave any thought to. 

There was much more waiting than I had anticipated – waiting on referrals, waiting on scans, waiting on blood tests, waiting for my body to catch up with what my head already knew. The waiting is what really took a toll on me, and I was completely confused and overwhelmed by the emotions I felt during this time.

While you know you are not alone in this experience – the one-in-five stats prove that – experiencing a miscarriage can feel totally isolating, and for me, the breadth and complexity of feelings added a layer I could never have anticipated.

There is great sadness for losing the baby, of course, but mixed in with that is a sense of shame, and even some embarrassment for grieving something that never was. There are feelings of guilt and a constant questioning whether it was something you did, whether you could've done anything differently. And there is anger that you have to wait, that you have to try again. That wasn't in the plan. 

You feel let down by yourself; let down by your body, for not being able to do what it was designed to do. 

Annoyed that you got your hopes up only for the dream to be snatched away all too soon. 

Silly, for even daring to think that far ahead.

There is a constant flow of questions about your ability to handle the situation, too, running around in your head. Why am I finding this so hard when others I know who have been through this didn't appear to struggle this much? Why has this happened? Will it happen again? 

I was able to think about it from a logical, intellectual perspective, and I knew it was totally out of my control, yet still, some of the thoughts that popped into my head shocked me. Like, is it weird to just flush it down the toilet?

What I began to realise is this: miscarriage can be a far more complex experience than I had ever given it credit for. There is so much to unpack emotionally and psychologically, and meanwhile your body is going through it physically, too. 

It is so much for one in five women to be dealing with, often in silence. 

Prior to my own experience, I thought I had a 'realistic' view of miscarriage, with an 'it-wasn’t-meant-to-be' attitude. So I was truly surprised by the complex range of thoughts and emotions that came with it. 

Of course, this is my personal story and others may have a completely different experience. But what I can say is this: Going through a pregnancy loss myself has definitely given me a better understanding of what is helpful – and what is decidedly unhelpful – to say to someone who is going through a miscarriage. I have, in the past, said some very unhelpful (although well-intentioned) things to people who are in the depths of the complexities of miscarriage, and to anyone on the receiving end of these comments, I am sorry. 

1. "At least you know you can get pregnant…" Yes, I do know that, but now I’m wondering, what if I can’t stay pregnant? What if it takes ages? What if it was something I did wrong? Also, my body has just gone through months of change only to have to start from scratch again. It is not just a simple fix.

2. "It wasn’t really a baby yet..." While theoretically I hear what you're saying, my heart and head still feel the loss. The loss of a future I envisaged; the loss of a heartbeat that I heard only a week before; the loss of the naivety that I once held about pregnancy and birth being easy. 

3. "At least you weren’t further along…" It would be horrific to go through this further down the track and my heart goes out to anyone who has experienced this. But saying something like this not only diminishes the fact that I am still grieving a loss but also makes me feel bad for grieving that loss – not to mention it also devalues everything I am experiencing physically.

4. "You can always try again…" I know this; I'm not stupid. But I do not want to try again. I wanted THIS baby.

5. "It’s very common..." So we're back to that one-in-five statistic. Yes, it's relatively common. But does knowing I am the one-in-five make me feel any better? Absolutely not. In fact, it makes me feel like I am being dramatic and overreacting to what is, in fact, a very complex and personal issue.

Listen to No Filter with Mia Freedman, This episode covers the difficult and emotional topic of miscarriage. Story continues below.

Given all of this, what should you say to someone you know who has experienced a miscarriage? There are two things I would suggest that may perhaps be less triggering; two things I personally found comfort within, despite their apparent simplicity.

"I am sorry. I am here for you."

If this has raised any issues for you or if you would like to speak with someone, please contact the Sands Australia 24-hour support line on 1300 072 637.

You can download Never Forgotten: Stories of love, loss and healing after miscarriage, stillbirth, and neonatal death for free here.

Feature Image: Getty.