My OBGYN was always kind and warned me about the medical terms, “spontaneous abortion” being the main one and “products of conception” instead of anything to do with it being a baby. I have always just thought of my miscarriages as losses of my potential babies and sometimes I would say I lost pregnancies instead of babies, but to me (no matter how early my loss was and even though I didn’t see heartbeats on ultrasounds for any of my 3 miscarriages), it represented the loss of my babies. We named our losses Zechariah and Mary for the first two to give the miscarriages a concrete name (even if we just picked a gender that “felt right”), and then with the super early miscarriage (that we didn’t believe it was viable at all), we just refer to the loss of Baby Kimball who didn’t make it earth-side.
I prefer when I am asked how I want to refer to my miscarriages, but I am not offended by medical terms. I just want to have the chance to honor my grief by naming my babies when I am asked!
I love that conversations are happening about language. I, too, struggle with terms like miscarriage and spontaneous abortion, for the reasons mentioned here. But the pressure of having to come up with words that you feel comfortable with -- for, and during, a situation that you feel anything *but* comfortable with -- seems enormous. Since no one plans to have a devastating loss such as this, I would imagine that being asked in the exam room "what language would you like us to use?" may be yet another layer of stress and strain. Just as we start with cold, medical terminology now and only change it upon request, maybe we could start with compassionate language and do the same?
The words used are so very important. My doctor was wonderful in many ways - but I was not warned about the language, and I wasn't given the choice of what to do with the "tissue" they removed. I've always regretted that there's much I will never know about my baby who died.
I remember a young doctor, after looking at my (too low) serial HCG numbers in early pregnancy, saying sympathetically, "There was definitely something there". That was the worst. "Something there". It actually makes me want to laugh hysterically typing those words now!
I found having to repeat what procedure I was in for, why I was lying in a surgical ward absolutely awful. Having to say it over and over and over again. I understand there are procedures and processes, but it was gut wrenching. I didn't want to be there, I didn't want to have to say the words over and over again.
Completely understandable. I would have found that incredibly hard too. (For both of my surgical procedures, I don’t remember having to tell anyone again - just check the paperwork and sign for consent, maybe? So procedures and processes can definitely be designed to accommodate a bit more sensitivity!) xxx
Language matters so much! And I'm so impressed with your doctor, being able to warn you that the language on the paperwork could be activating or upsetting. We need more doctors like that.
My OBGYN was always kind and warned me about the medical terms, “spontaneous abortion” being the main one and “products of conception” instead of anything to do with it being a baby. I have always just thought of my miscarriages as losses of my potential babies and sometimes I would say I lost pregnancies instead of babies, but to me (no matter how early my loss was and even though I didn’t see heartbeats on ultrasounds for any of my 3 miscarriages), it represented the loss of my babies. We named our losses Zechariah and Mary for the first two to give the miscarriages a concrete name (even if we just picked a gender that “felt right”), and then with the super early miscarriage (that we didn’t believe it was viable at all), we just refer to the loss of Baby Kimball who didn’t make it earth-side.
I prefer when I am asked how I want to refer to my miscarriages, but I am not offended by medical terms. I just want to have the chance to honor my grief by naming my babies when I am asked!
I love that conversations are happening about language. I, too, struggle with terms like miscarriage and spontaneous abortion, for the reasons mentioned here. But the pressure of having to come up with words that you feel comfortable with -- for, and during, a situation that you feel anything *but* comfortable with -- seems enormous. Since no one plans to have a devastating loss such as this, I would imagine that being asked in the exam room "what language would you like us to use?" may be yet another layer of stress and strain. Just as we start with cold, medical terminology now and only change it upon request, maybe we could start with compassionate language and do the same?
This is such a fantastic piece Jennie.
The words used are so very important. My doctor was wonderful in many ways - but I was not warned about the language, and I wasn't given the choice of what to do with the "tissue" they removed. I've always regretted that there's much I will never know about my baby who died.
I remember a young doctor, after looking at my (too low) serial HCG numbers in early pregnancy, saying sympathetically, "There was definitely something there". That was the worst. "Something there". It actually makes me want to laugh hysterically typing those words now!
The words of healthcare professionals can be HAUNTING.
I found having to repeat what procedure I was in for, why I was lying in a surgical ward absolutely awful. Having to say it over and over and over again. I understand there are procedures and processes, but it was gut wrenching. I didn't want to be there, I didn't want to have to say the words over and over again.
Completely understandable. I would have found that incredibly hard too. (For both of my surgical procedures, I don’t remember having to tell anyone again - just check the paperwork and sign for consent, maybe? So procedures and processes can definitely be designed to accommodate a bit more sensitivity!) xxx
Language matters so much! And I'm so impressed with your doctor, being able to warn you that the language on the paperwork could be activating or upsetting. We need more doctors like that.