Explaining Miscarriage and Death to Children

Explaining Miscarriage and Death to Children

My second son was not yet 14 months when I discovered I was pregnant. My first reaction was one of disbelief and shock. I wanted another baby, but I had wanted more space between the second and third child. My shock soon turned into excitement realizing that God was blessing my family with another baby.

Everything was going well--too well. Although I had no morning sickness with my first two pregnancies, I had experienced dizziness and extreme fatigue for the first few weeks. With this pregnancy, however, I was feeling great. I assumed I was reaping the benefits of my regular exercise regimen I had recently begun.

At eight weeks, I started spotting. I had never spotted before, and I was certain something must be wrong with my baby. My first doctor appointment was in two days, but early the next morning, I called the office.

The nurse recommended I take it easy and not worry. (Not worry? I was in tears already.) As the day passed, I began to wonder if the pregnancy test I took was invalid. Maybe I wasn't pregnant after all.

I was still spotting the next day at the doctor's office. The obstetrician examined me and suggested an ultrasound. The ultrasound revealed nothing, but an empty egg sac. I knew that I should at least see a pulsating heart. (I've had two other early ultrasounds, and even at six weeks, I could clearly see a beating heart as well as the formation of buds for the arms and legs.)

The doctor tried to reassure me that everything could still be all right, but I think we both had our doubts. According to the doctor, there was really nothing I could do to prevent a miscarriage from occurring. He recommended that I rest and call them if I started bleeding heavily or cramping severely.

I tried to be optimistic. I prayed and begged God to allow my baby to live.

The next afternoon, I started bleeding heavily and cramping. By early evening, the pain felt like labor. I knew it was only a matter of time before I lost the baby.

I can tolerate labor pains when I know that there is a baby to hold in the end. To endure both physical and emotional pain, knowing I would never see or hold my baby, hurt deeply.

About 7:25 that evening, I passed my baby. I lay on the bathroom floor weeping uncontrollably. My three-year old son John knew something terrible was happening. I knew he needed my comfort, but I couldn't leave the bathroom. My baby was in the toilet, and the thought of flushing him away upset me. I knew he had probably died a few weeks earlier and was now in heaven, but my heart ached for this child I would never know.

The next few days were very emotional for me. Daniel (15 months) was unaware of what had happened, but John kept asking me what was wrong. I knew he was worried. I thought he would forget everything, but how could he when I broke out in tears for no apparent reason?

After reading the book Empty Arms by Pam W. Vredevelt, I knew I needed to talk to John.

"John," I explained, "You've noticed that Mommy and Daddy have been crying."

He nodded.

"There was a baby growing inside me. Something was wrong with the baby, and he died. Now, he is in heaven."

John looked up at me and said in his sweet voice, "He's in heaven with Jesus, right?"

"Yes, John."

"That means he's happy, now."

Oh, for such a child-like faith! Through my tears, I hugged John. That short explanation was all he needed. I could see the relief on his face. He quickly jumped down to play.

In the ensuing days, whenever he noticed me crying, John would approach me with a hug. "It's okay, Mommy."

Nine months later, I had another eight-week miscarriage, despite a six-week ultrasound that showed a flickering heart beat. John was now four-years old. Once again, I explained what happened, and in his child-like way, he accepted the fact that he has siblings in Heaven.

Explaining miscarriage and death to a child is never easy, but it is necessary. Even a child as young as two years can sense something is wrong.

Trying to hide the pain of miscarriage hurts both the parent and the child. The parent is not able to grieve, and the child worries that something is wrong with his mommy and daddy. He may even begin to wonder if he did something bad to make his parents upset.

You don't need an elaborate explanation of death, but answer any questions your child may have. Of course, the younger the child, the less details you need to explain.

Avoid using euphemisms with a young child. To refer to death as someone sleeping often confuses a child and may cause him to be afraid to sleep.

If you say that the baby was so special that God wanted her in heaven, your child may wonder if God will take him to heaven as well.

Don't be afraid to use the word death. The word loss is temporary. (A child can find a toy that is lost.) Usually, a child under five-years of age views death as temporary, like sleep. By age eight or nine, a child is more mature and comprehends that death is final.

Parents long to protect their offspring from the pain of death, but realize your child will probably experience death either through a pet, relative, or friend. Reassure your child that she didn't cause the death. Depending on the age and circumstances of the loss, your child may grieve deeply.

Your child may need extra attention and love during this time. Be aware of your child's needs and be available for her. Death is never easy.