Carolyn Hax: Do I Have To Tell My Husband I Miscarried?

[cereta]

Dear Carolyn: Do I have to tell my husband I had a miscarriage? I’m too emotionally exhausted to cause more pain to us both, and I’d rather not have this painful episode as part of our history. I’d rather just try to conceive again and have us both excited about the future. (He never knew I was pregnant.)

— Virginia

Virginia: I can see how tempting it is, just to push your sadness aside to make room for happier feelings. But when does handling things privately become (or reflect) a habit? And at what point do husband and wife wake up feeling like roommates?

I’m getting ahead of myself somewhat. This isn’t a slippery-slope argument, where I conjure one possible future just to blame you for it in advance. This is about what you are and aren’t doing right now.

What you aren’t doing is causing “pain to us both” by telling your husband. The miscarriage did that. You are only the messenger.

What you aren’t doing is eliminating “this painful episode as part of our history.” It happened, it’s there, and it’s not going away. You are merely excluding your husband from this history, and therefore from his chance to grieve with you, grow with you. Cocktails on the deck at sunset might sound more appealing, but that’s not what brings couples close. Entrusting your hearts to each other, and regarding that trust as both a lofty honor and a mundane set of daily responsibilities — that’s what brings couples close.

Secret-keeping locks your husband out of your marriage.

Now — you don’t “have” to tell him anything. (Though please tell your OB/GYN if the emotional exhaustion persists.) For all I know, you have good reasons for locking him out. Maybe you’ve been through enough with him to know you can’t trust him with your heart.

But if that’s the case, it’s a compelling argument for using this sad event as a reckoning, to deal with your distrust of him — certainly before you get pregnant again.

And if you don’t have a reason to lock him out, then that, too, is a compelling argument for speaking up: Who says you get to feel everything for both of you? And along the more mundane lines: Isn’t it possible he’s wondering why you’re not quite yourself?

Please know I’m not trying to pile onto your grief (and hormonal flux) with a scolding. I understand and sympathize with the impulse to turn inward. But you didn’t create these hopes alone; likewise, the innermost place to which you’re retreating ought to have room for two.

Comments

[feast_of_regrets]

LW really just sounds to me like she needs to grieve a bit longer and then see how she feels. (I wish she had said how long ago it was in the letter; it's hard to tell if there's really anything unusual going on here.) Instant sharing of emotion isn't really reasonable in every situation, and it's fine for her to let herself be for a while. I suspect the clear answer will arise if she just lets it. (And kind of sounds to me like maybe she already knows it and didn't want it to be what it was, but what do I know.)