TRIGGER WARNING: This piece discusses miscarriage
“Natasha, are you OK?”
As someone who suffers from endometriosis, pelvic pain was something I am, unfortunately, accustomed to. But something felt very different this time. I looked back at my manager on the screen, made my excuses, ended the call and quickly made my way to the loo.
I knew instinctively that something wasn’t right. It didn’t feel like a ‘normal’ period and I felt hot with panic. I rang my doctor's surgery, who agreed to see me straight away, then I grabbed my keys and walked out of the house. I didn’t even pause to tell my husband, John.
There, the doctor examined me and confirmed that I was having a miscarriage. Completely on autopilot, I nodded, thanked them for their time and made my way back home.
But, once I’d pushed our front door shut, the situation hit me. Taking everything in at once, I was in utter shock: it dawned on me that something quite big was happening, but I didn’t know how to feel, so I sat on the stairs and cried. Then, I spoke to John. As I’d gone into panic mode, he hadn’t even realised I’d left the house and he was just as shocked as I was.
Afterwards, I rang my manager in floods of tears. She told me to take the time I needed and asked thoughtful questions such as who I was comfortable with knowing our news.
In the UK, there is nothing in place for couples that suffer a miscarriage during the first 24 weeks.
Her support meant so much to me. Like when any other traumatic event happens, you don’t know how you’ll feel until you’re in that situation and, I must admit, my reaction took me a bit by surprise.
Whilst John and I hadn’t been trying for a baby, the feelings I experienced during our subsequent loss completely shook me. Some days were ok, where I could function normally, but other days, I was completely floored by this feeling of utter shame and embarrassment. Some days I’d sit in silence the entire time, not wanting to talk at all. I wanted to hide away, perhaps, in some ways, to protect myself.
John was wonderful, but he was also grieving, too. Like thousands of other partners that experience miscarriage, he felt conflicted and helpless. He was being weighed down by all these feelings and had to juggle them alongside his full-time job.
I took the following week off and, although I thought I was ready to return, being sat in meetings whilst I had such an overwhelming mixture of emotions was a lot to deal with.
I just couldn’t shake the feeling that I wanted to ‘get back’ to myself. I realised I couldn’t cope, so I spoke to my managers again, explained that I wanted to be flexible and that I needed to talk to a therapist. They were very supportive, instantly allowing me to return part time so that I could decompress. My miscarriage had lost a bit of who I was and it was all a bit too much.
During the time that I had off, I started looking at our statutory rights. In the UK, there is nothing in place for couples that suffer a miscarriage during the first 24 weeks. Any absence is taken straight out of a sick pay allowance.
The doctor thought I had miscarried at around six weeks and, as I was under the 24 week threshold, I started to question how I would have felt if I was further along. What if I’d been 10 weeks or 15 weeks pregnant? What if we’d already told our family and friends, or had our 12-week scan? It made me realise that, in the UK, we have the sum of absolutely nothing - and I was determined to change that.
I also considered John’s position: he hadn’t felt able to tell his colleagues, fearful that he, too, might be discriminated against.
First, I did my research. I started studying other countries, such as New Zealand who, in March 2021, announced that it had amended its policy and introduced bereavement leave for miscarriages and stillbirths: a stark contrast to the UK.
I also read the Miscarriage Association’s advice to HR professionals, alongside other charity websites and tried to find companies who had implemented their own policies.
Then, I thought about my own experience. In that awful moment, what did I need? In the subsequent days and weeks that followed, what support helped me?
I also considered my own place of work. I’m lucky to work at Hallam, a digital marketing agency, where there’s a modern and progressive management team. Yet, if I’d worked in another environment, maybe I would have felt scared to say something. I also considered John’s position: he hadn’t felt able to tell his colleagues, fearful that he, too, might be discriminated against. He continued to work, hurting in silence, whilst also trying desperately to console me - all without anyone at work knowing.
So, I gathered up my research and presented my ideas to our agency’s leadership team. Talking about such a personal event, I felt a bit embarrassed: it was scary showing such vulnerability to my bosses. However, I wasn’t scared to say that we need to do better. That the care I’d received should be made official so that others - regardless of gender, sexuality or circumstance - could experience the same empathy and understanding as I had.
The board accepted the new miscarriage policy with open arms and, in the days that followed, we shared the news with the rest of the company.
I’ve now made it my mission to share the news as far and wide as we can; not to pat ourselves on the back, but to encourage other companies to do the same.
So, what’s our policy? Well, there are five parts available to pick and choose from based on your needs:
Five days compassionate leave – for both the parents - in order to have space and time to process the miscarriage.
Paid leave for any associated or follow-up medical appointments and fertility treatment.
Two days paid leave when menstruation returns after the event – any woman that has gone through this will tell you that the first period following a miscarriage can be awful.
Access to Hallam’s Mental Health First Aiders and paid visits to a therapist, if the person felt they would benefit from professional counsel – this is particularly a huge benefit and removes that barrier of having to try and find a therapist yourself.
A phased return to work, beginning with a return to work meeting to outline working arrangements, required adjustments and how it can be managed.
Ultimately, though, this isn’t just a ‘Hallam thing’. This is a UK-wide issue that needs to be addressed and taken charge of. I want companies to feel pressure, from the likes of Hallam, that it’s no longer acceptable to have nothing in place for people who experience a miscarriage.
Over the last few months, other companies such as Channel 4 and Monzo have announced similar policies and, with every company that recognises that things need to change, we’re a step closer to more people talking about it. And, as more people begin to talk about this, the better chance we have of getting this in front of the Government to get these outdated laws and regulations, that have been in place for far too long, reviewed and updated.
You can’t codify the events or feelings that you or your partner might feel after a miscarriage. Our miscarriage policy is very much a set of guidelines and we’ve made it clear that they need to be added to and evolved so that they can support in any way that is needed.
But the message is clear. There are so many people and their partners who are screaming for support, saying that what we have isn’t enough: things have to change.
READ MORE: Why Does It Take A Woman Prime Minister To Introduce Miscarriage Leave?