Why the Word 'Miscarriage' Doesn't Capture the Reality of Pregnancy Loss
By Saff Mitten
Miscarriage.
It's a word we use every day, yet few of us stop to consider what it actually communicates.
For many people, it feels like an entirely appropriate description of what they have experienced. But for others, it doesn't begin to capture the reality of what happened.
That isn't because the word itself is wrong. It is a recognised term, and one that many people are comfortable using. The difficulty is that a single word cannot possibly reflect the deeply personal and individual experience of pregnancy loss.
Why language matters
The words we choose don't simply describe our experiences; they also shape how we understand them, and how other people understand them too. When the language available doesn't quite reflect the reality of what someone has been through, it can leave them feeling unseen, misunderstood, or as though their grief doesn't fit the language they have been given.
There is no single experience of pregnancy loss
For one person, a miscarriage may represent the loss of a pregnancy. For another, it is the loss or death of a baby. And for some, it may be experienced as a medical event that they don't attach any emotional significance to.
It may be the first miscarriage someone has experienced, or one of several. It may come after years of infertility or following fertility treatment. It may happen before a first scan, after seeing a heartbeat, or much later in pregnancy. It may be a chemical pregnancy, a spontaneous miscarriage, or a missed miscarriage where the pregnancy has ended but the body still shows all the signs of being pregnant.
Every one of these experiences is different. Every one carries its own meaning. None is more or less deserving of compassion or understanding than another.
No single word could ever encompass all of these experiences.
The language society uses
Sometimes the words we are first given are not the words that ultimately help us make sense of what has happened.
As a society, we tend to stay with the word miscarriage. It is the language most of us are familiar with, and for those who haven't experienced this themselves, it can feel like the safest and most comfortable way of understanding or thinking about what has happened.
Perhaps that is because it can be difficult to fully grasp the significance of an experience we haven't lived ourselves. Seeing it primarily as a medical event can feel more manageable than considering what it may have meant emotionally to the person who has experienced it. For some women, it is experienced as the loss or death of a much-loved and deeply wanted baby. Holding that reality in mind can feel painful, and many of us naturally want to move away from pain rather than towards it.
Perhaps that is one reason why people so often reach for reassurance.
"At least it was early."
"You can try again."
"Everything happens for a reason."
"At least you know you can get pregnant."
These comments are almost always offered with kindness and the genuine intention of making someone feel better. But they can also reflect how difficult it is to sit alongside another person's grief without trying to soften it, explain it or move them towards hope. In doing so, what feels reassuring to the person saying it can sometimes feel profoundly invalidating to the person living through it.
Finding language that feels meaningful
In my work as a therapist, I've noticed that no two people describe their experience in quite the same way.
Many women initially describe what happened as "a miscarriage". That is often the language they have been given by the healthcare professionals around them, and the language that society most commonly uses. It may also be the language that feels most permissible.
But as we begin to explore what the experience meant to them personally, the language they use often starts to change. Some continue to talk about miscarriage. Others speak about pregnancy loss. Some describe it as the death of their baby. Others move between these different ways of describing their experience depending on where they are in their grief or who they are talking to.
None of these ways of describing the experience is more valid than another. What matters is that women feel able to use the language that feels most meaningful to them, rather than feeling confined to words that don't quite fit their experience.
Part of grieving is making sense of what has happened, and the language we use often becomes part of that process. One of the things therapy can offer is space to move beyond the language we feel we ought to use, and instead discover the language that feels most authentic to our own experience.
Understanding each woman's experience
In my work as a therapist, I will often begin by using the word miscarriage, simply because it is the term most commonly used and the one many women initially use themselves. However, rather than assuming that language feels right for them, I'm interested in understanding what the experience means to each individual woman, and how they describe it.
Sometimes, I might gently ask, "What words feel most comfortable for you when talking about what happened?" or "How do you describe it yourself?" Once I understand that, I can meet them where they are and use the language that feels most authentic and meaningful to them.
If they tell me they experienced pregnancy loss, reflecting that language back matters. If they describe the death of their baby, that language deserves to be honoured too. If they describe what happened as a miscarriage and don't use any other words, I will continue to refer to their experience as a miscarriage because that is how they see it.
The goal isn't to find the "perfect" words.
The goal is to understand and validate the person's experience through the language they have chosen to describe it.
Language is never just about words
Language is never just about words. The words we choose carry meaning. They reflect how we understand our experiences, the significance we attach to them, and the way we make sense of what has happened. When it comes to something as profound as pregnancy loss, that process of personal meaning-making matters.
When we respect a person's language, we are doing more than respecting the words they have chosen. We are respecting their understanding of what has happened, the meaning they attach to it, and the way they are making sense of one of the most significant experiences of their life.
Perhaps the question isn't whether the words miscarriage, pregnancy loss, or the death of my baby are right or wrong. Perhaps it's whether we allow enough space for people to describe their experience in the language that feels most meaningful to them.
When someone has been through this experience, one of the most compassionate and supportive things we can do is to truly listen to them and follow their lead in how they talk about and understand what has happened, rather than describing their experience using the words we feel most comfortable with.
If this article resonated with you…
I'm Saff Mitten, a specialist counsellor and psychotherapist supporting women through IVF, infertility and miscarriage.
Through both my therapeutic work and my writing, I explore the emotional and psychological impact of these experiences to help women make sense of feelings that can often be difficult to put into words and feel less alone.
If you're looking for support with your own experience of infertility, IVF or miscarriage, you can follow the link below to find out how I support women through these experiences. I work online and support women across the UK.