Responding to Pregnancy Loss on Social Media
When I heard the news of Chrissy Teigen and John Legend’s pregnancy loss, it hit me hard. Obviously I don’t know them. I’ve never been particularly attached to them outside of liking some tweets and trying Chrissy’s recipes. Still, while trying to give a quick summary to Kyle, I found myself holding back some heavy tears.
Immediately, I was back in my doctor’s office as nurses held a doppler over my belly for the third time struggling to find the heartbeat. A wave of pain washed over me as I remembered seeing the ultrasound and a heart I’d once seen beat, now still. I wrote about my loss when it happened a little over two years ago, but it’s worth noting that in the realm of pregnancy loss, my experience is on the very low end of traumatic. Just months after a chemical pregnancy, I experienced what is called a “missed miscarriage.” Essentially, this means my body missed what was happening and the loss of life that took place. For three weeks, my body continued producing hormones and taking care of a life that was no longer there. (Side note: It may take decades, even a lifetime, before I can fully trust my body again but even though it’s taken years, I’m proud to simply love her again.) When confronted with options on moving forward, I chose to have a D&C. I chose this mainly for the reason that the day after the procedure, I traveled by car 6 hours to stand beside my sister on her wedding day. I specify the detail about my procedure because, although there is trauma, there is a very long list of traumatic experiences that are not a part of my story. I still grieve for the child I’ll never know and currently, about 1 out of every 4 women know this same feeling. But hey, this really isn’t about my story. It’s about how people responded to someone else’s.
After briefly going over a couple headlines with Kyle over morning coffee, I didn’t need to hear any more. I was already on my second dose of Tylenol after developing a headache from the amount of tears I was holding back for the sake of composure.
Then the comments rolled in. At this point, there are so many articles (easily accessible) about the disgusting comments left on her social media by conspiracy theorists. I will not even give credence to those accusations, comments, or those that perpetuate them.
I want to talk about the other responses. The ones that, when compared to extreme conspiracies, seem simply “just mean,” but in actuality are just as harmful. The ones that imply Chrissy did something to cause her own loss, referring to this as some sort of “karma.” The ones that suggest pregnancy loss is too personal or offensive of a topic to openly discuss and that it’s something to be left off of social media. The ones using her grief as an opportunity to discuss abortion.
These are not okay.
These comments contribute to the overwhelmingly painful stigma that surrounds pregnancy loss. Every bit of our culture tells us to stay silent. To even discuss the grief that comes with pregnancy loss feels counter-intuitive to all that we’ve been taught. We (women) are encouraged to not disclose a pregnancy until after 12 weeks so that miscarriage isn’t a topic that would potentially even come up. You know, we’d hate to risk bringing the vibe down with that empty womb and all. (Could you feel the tone?) Shame and guilt are already built into pregnancy loss and those feelings are perpetuated by a culture that considers silence the norm. These comments are a reminder of our culture, and they hurt. Based on current pregnancy loss statistics, you likely know multiple women who have experienced pregnancy loss in some form. This means you likely know women who are feeling the same wave of grief while watching another family go through such a deeply traumatic, personal, and tragic experience.
As we continue to learn more about Chrissy’s loss, subsequently giving miscarriage a spotlight, there are three things we can do to help those around us.
If you have experienced pregnancy loss, allow yourself to feel that grief. Consider reaching out to someone (a friend, a family member, a counselor). I will not tell you whether to publicly discuss your loss, but I would suggest telling someone. Be prepared to revisit your own loss.
If you know someone who has experienced pregnancy loss, reach out to them. Acknowledge their feelings. Operate under the impression that they are being reminded of their own loss(es) and potentially having a hard day. With everything else in 2020, it’s so easy to feel tempted to push those feelings aside, or even invalidate completely. Take a moment and let them know you see them.
If you’re following friends or interacting with someone who is making comments that contribute towards the cloud of shame that surrounds the topic of miscarriage, that push a conversation about abortion, or that perpetuate conspiracy theories - please don’t keep scrolling. Call that behavior out for how inappropriate it is.
