What Not To Say to a Friend Who Miscarried (or Struggles with Infertility)

Some of the most searing phrases—even intended to comfort—simply minimize a person’s pain on a path filled with loss, relational conflict, disappointment, and alienation. Here are some ideas of what not to say to a friend who miscarried.

“How many kids do you guys have?” Or, “When will you start a family?”

Consider allowing kids to naturally arise as a subject of conversation, rather than assuming kids are the norm, implying not having kids is weird, or that not having kids makes a couple not a family.

“Be grateful you don’t have kids. Parenting is so hard.”

For a person who wants kids, indicating that’s not what they should want can feel brash, if not patently false. (Do you really wish you didn’t have your children?)

“Have you tried…?” Or, “When you stop trying, it will happen.”

Advice and pep talks for this intimate struggle, especially doled out in the first conversation, are abundant—yet often overwhelming, alienating, and paired with false hope in a season filled with loss.

When you’re wondering what to say to a friend who miscarried, one sufferer observes, “If you are a fixer or need others to reach their goals in a timely manner, you may unintentionally wound.”

“Oh, you were only six weeks along?” “There will be another pregnancy.” Or, “Miscarriages are so common.”

Grief is an expression of what was valuable to us, now lost. Rather than minimizing someone’s grief—as if this baby’s life didn’t matter that much—hold sacred space for it.

Another sufferer observes that she wrestled often with “feeling like I have a right to mourn what was lost.” Yet Jesus, she points out, was our Man of Sorrows, who shouldered our grief. And God blesses and comforts those who mourn (Matthew 5:4).

“I thought you guys didn’t want kids!”

Other sufferers experience a tidal wave of mixed emotions with surprise pregnancies. One reflects, “When we lost the baby, we both felt a lot of guilt and heard internal accusations of how we didn’t want this anyway. However, we had also gotten excited about it and started to make plans, which soon felt foolish.”

“Have you thought about adoption or foster care?”

If you’re curious what to say to a friend who miscarried, know chances are probably 100% this couple has considered all the options, or is still considering them—but within circumstances of great pain. It’s unlikely you’re the first to suggest it or will help this (sensitive, history-laden) ball advance down the field.

“All it took for us was tequila!”

Never speak flippantly about someone’s infertility or make jokes about it. If you don’t know what to say to a friend who miscarried, just say you’re sorry. One mother, on her second month of fertility medication and an extreme diet, had been weeping just before a Bible study when a comment like this was made.

“Making jokes about your pregnancies when someone else is longing for one just isn’t tactful or helpful in any way,” she says. “It just causes more pain, especially if your joke is pointing out how easy it was for you.”

“God will bless you in time.”

God isn’t our Santa Claus. He doesn’t guarantee any outcomes. He asks us to prize Him above His gifts or provision (Daniel 3:17-18, Romans 1:25, Philippians 3:8).

“You’re running out of time!” Or, “Don’t you want kids? What’s the hold up?”

Though this may be trying to make small talk or seeking to offer encouragement, it can contribute to feelings of isolation and shame or the recipient feeling less of a man or woman.

This often adds pressure, implies a couple is doing a bad job on what they “should” be doing or just innocently asks about what’s become a deeply personal, painful process. Let go of the meddling.

“God works all things together for good.” Or, “God is preparing you to help others.”

The pain of platitudes—even spiritual ones—can falsely communicate: Your problem is plug-and-play. I didn’t hear your heart and what you truly needed, but I would like to fix it.

Galatians reminds us, “Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ” (6:2). Jesus’ life and death showed burden-bearing is messy, self-sacrificial, involved, and decidedly unformulaic. “Trust God more” isn’t likely the core advice this person needs.

So often, a safe place is simply where someone will un-praise what has happened to us, like Jesus weeping at the tomb of Lazarus: This is not how God intended this world to be.

“It’s just not the same for men.”

Many men find infertility and/or miscarriages a source of deep grief and stress in themselves and their marriages, some more than their wives.

What to say (instead) to a friend who miscarried or who struggles with infertility

Lisa, a licensed counselor who dealt with infertility for decades, observes, “It’s sad to admit, but I could tell the individuals who had suffered from infertility or miscarriage. There was a different attitude they demonstrated. They seemed to me to be more quiet, more cautious, as if the conversation were sacred. Those were the ones where I felt seen and honored … less alone.”

In fact, when you’re wondering what to say to a friend who miscarried, she advises, “I’m not sure I’d say anything. I think I’d help her cry.”

She adds, “With my friendly acquaintances, I simply needed them to be sensitive and aware…So ask. Indicate your desire to be sensitive. Invite the woman to coach you in what would be comfortable and meaningful to her.”

Lisa suggests offering a couple of concrete ideas: sitting with your friend to be a listener, just being present without words, or going for a walk or hike.

“Again, many women don’t know what they want, so reassure them it’s okay not to know, that you are willing to be flexible, and it’s okay for her to change her mind. Not leaving her alone emotionally is your primary goal. Even if she doesn’t take you up on your overture of care, believe me, she will remember your initiative.”

She recalls a dinner of eight women where every woman was talking about her children. A woman she didn’t know well exchanged seats to sit across from Lisa, and said, “I noticed your normally smiling face slowly faded, and you stopped talking. I’m guessing the fact that you and Carl don’t have kids yet is feeling pretty awkward and maybe kind of painful right now. I don’t know much about infertility, but I’m really good at talking about topics that don’t involve children.”

Lisa reflects, “Not surprisingly, this woman has grown to be one of my dear friends.”

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If you’re pregnant or have kids of your own, it can be weird trying to consider what to say to a friend who miscarried. But don’t avoid talking about that with your friend. Just don’t make it the only thing you talk about.

Communicate, Your vulnerability matters to me. I took you seriously, and you’re on my mind. After your friend has shared about this painful path, don’t let the awkwardness or sensitivity keep you from checking back with them.
“I’m sorry. That is so hard and heartbreaking.”
“I don’t know for sure, but I can imagine you are feeling scared and discouraged in this season of your dreams going unfulfilled. I’m not here to fix anything. I have no answers, but I do care.”
“What do you need in a friend right now? If you feel like processing, I’m here for you.” Most people, when asked, won’t have any ideas on how to help. You might suggest that you bring dinner, run to the grocery store, or pick kids up after school.
“I was thinking about you today. How are you doing?” Then, create space to listen well.
“How are you processing this loss?”
“Thank you for sharing your story with me.”
“How are you doing after that baby shower?” Your friend may experience “triggers” for their grief. Consider hard events (like baby showers), and offer a chance to process. The anniversary following a tough miscarriagecan also be hard.
“Do you feel like the two of you are grieving in the same way?”

Tiffany recalls a terrible season following their son’s death. As she “scream-cried” and yelled about her helplessness one night, her husband responded gently, “And how do you think I feel? … I was supposed to protect you and our son. And I couldn’t do anything to save him.”

Tiffany reflects, “I had never really thought about how this whole chapter would affect my husband. What he had felt? The thoughts racing through his mind? His heartache? Now I knew, and was better for it. He was his son, too.”

Tiffany’s husband Jeff affirms, “Going through a traumatizing experience opened up an opportunity for both of us to grow closer to God and each other. It meant we both shared the same experience.”

But for other couples, in addition to the blow of miscarriage, grief can feel isolating within a marriage as couples weep for different losses, to different degrees, and at different rates and occasions.

Janel Breitenstein is an author, freelance writer, speaker, and frequent contributor for FamilyLife, including Passport2Identity®, Art of Parenting®, and regular articles. After five and a half years in East Africa, her family of six returned to Colorado, where they continue to work on behalf of the poor with Engineering Ministries International. Her book, Permanent Markers: Spiritual Life Skills to Write on Your Kids’ Hearts (Harvest House), empowers parents to creatively engage kids in vibrant spirituality. You can find her—“The Awkward Mom”—having uncomfortable, important conversations at JanelBreitenstein.com, and on Instagram @janelbreit.

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