I was researching content for a project that I was working on and stumbled across a term I had never heard before, post-loss depression. I had always compared it to postpartum depression but didn’t know there was a term that the medical community was trying to adopt into their language. The research compared how women can experience depression after a loss that mimics postpartum depression. I was so intrigued by this research and what the researchers found.

This is the largest epidemiologically based study to date to measure the psychological impact of perinatal loss. Nine months after a loss, bereaved women showed high levels of distress with limited rates of treatment. This large-scale epidemiologically based study indicated that at 4 months post-loss, the rate of depressive symptoms is four times higher, and the rate of PTSD symptoms seven times higher than that found in a non-bereaved control sample of parents. It also indicates those who struggled with infertility, secondary infertility, or recurrent loss had a higher chance of experiencing post-lost depression or complicated grief than someone who conceived easily and/or if the mother could get pregnant again before her due date. The data lays out what we knew to be true, but was based on our experience working with families of pregnancy loss.

I recently experienced what the post-loss depression study talks about.

Last year we experienced another loss on May 29, 2022, of our 5th child Eva Catherine. I was really early when we found out and began to spot 3 days later. Our fourth loss after a 10-year period of trying to conceive another child I was stuggling with secondary infertility. Most people do not know that couples who are given infertility diagnoses suffer from complicated feelings similar to a cancer diagnosis. According to Rooney and Domar (2008), depression among those with infertility "has been compared with patients diagnosed with cancer."

The weight of losing after struggling with secondary infertility exacerbates your feelings. We waited so long for this miracle, only to lose her before we could hold her was just awful. I was experiencing a change in my heart that I had not felt in a long time. I was plunged back into the sea of new raw grief. The grief brain fog returned. I didn’t want to be around people. I was having trouble keeping my thoughts together, and when talking, I would lose track of what I was talking about. I felt that my calendar was too full to process what was happening, and yet I couldn’t just step away from my responsibilities as quickly as I would have wanted. I was able to take a little time off, but not long enough. I found myself being plunged back into supporting others through their loss.

I truly feel called to support families of loss and genuinely love the work of the ministry to support others through their loss. So I didn’t think through or hesitate to continue where I had left off. I truly love the families we serve so much. I’ve continued to serve those who were reaching toward us as best as I could at the time, but my reach may have fallen a little short to some. I have been going and going trying to keep up, but to be totally honest with everyone. I arrived at my due date feeling like a total failure and really tired.

It was evident to me at first, but I know there was a shift in me that hadn’t been there in a long, long time. I was needy again. I needed others to help with responsibilities. I needed support as I began seeing a new doctor and so much blood work. I needed help managing a new medicine as nausea and vomiting came at random times of the day. I was facing a very place that I may have thought I would never be back in. I needed to be supported through my loss, and I did not see it clear to advocate for myself. I felt really tired and moments of overwhelm. I chalked it up to the new medication and tried my hardest to keep up, but was not really doing it well. On random days I would cry to my husband about how tired I was and sometimes stay in bed or in my chair in the living room. All unbeknownst to the world that I was in and out of the wave, the ebbs and flows of grief. Those that were really close to me. Those that worked with me daily saw a lot more.

It all came to a head the past two months when a few grenades landed, nearly knocking me off of my feet. I couldn’t control my tears, thoughts, and emotions, and it was clear that my approaching due date was surfacing some grief waves that were mimicking what this post-loss depression I had read.

I guess the point I want to make is that just because you see a smile on someone’s face who has recently loss doesn’t indicate that he/she isn’t suffering. Sometimes we smile not to burden the world with the crosses we carry. Don’t make judgments or preconceived notions about someone based on how they present themselves. You never know the strength it takes to wake up each day and face the world.

Be gentle to those who are grieving. You never know what people are actually going through. Assumptions hurt people and, many times, aren’t true. Be gentle with those who carry heavy burdens for the Love of God.