Hard to Bear: Investigating the science and silence of miscarriage

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Hard to Bear reveals how inadequate education perpetuates detrimental outcomes on both individual and systemic levels, placing accountability in the hands of a patriarchal medical system, which is overtly guilty of the persistent dehumanisation of women. She describes how racialised health inequality contributes to these issues, particularly in Australia with its paternalistic colonial history of systemic violence, trauma and medical coercion committed against First Nations women. Is it too much to bear or bare? Too much to bear means something one cannot endure because it is excessive. Too much to bare is a common mistake based on the homophones bare and bear. Therefore, too much to bare has an entirely different literal meaning than too much to bear. It would refer to excessive exposure rather than excessive burdens.

If you are using the fixed phrase to refer to an excessive burden, always use too much to bear. Too much to bare is usually a mistake based on the homophones bare and bear. It is wonderful what an insight into domestic economy being really hard up gives one. If you want to find out the value of money, live on 15 shillings a week and see how much you can put by for clothes and recreation. You will find out that it is worth while to wait for the farthing change, that it is worth while to walk a mile to save a penny, that a glass of beer is a luxury to be indulged in only at rare intervals, and that a collar can be worn for four days. There is often confusion over the words bear and bare. This confusion arises because, knowing a bear is a large mammal (e.g., a brown bear), writers feel uncomfortable using bear in its other meanings. In fact, the word bear is a very versatile word. Here are common expressions with bear:

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The actress looked at her new evening gown in the mirror and thought, “that is too much to bare at the Oscars.” Dear old ladies and gentlemen who know nothing about being hard up–and may they never, bless their gray old heads–look upon the pawn-shop as the last stage of degradation; but those who know it better (and my readers have no doubt, noticed this themselves) are often surprised, like the little boy who dreamed he went to heaven, at meeting so many people there that they never expected to see. For my part, I think it a much more independent course than borrowing from friends, and I always try to impress this upon those of my acquaintance who incline toward “wanting a couple of pounds till the day after to-morrow.” But they won’t all see it. One of them once remarked that he objected to the principle of the thing. I fancy if he had said it was the interest that he objected to he would have been nearer the truth: twenty-five per cent. certainly does come heavy. The correct word in this instance is bear: I can’t bear it, or bear with me. But how can you remember that? In these cases, it’s helpful to create some kind of mnemonic or tool to help you remember when to use which word. Bare means to expose something. A wolf might bare its teeth in a threatening display, for instance, or a man might bare his chest when he goes swimming.

To bear means to support or carry or endure (physically and figuratively). Who can carry heavy things and endure long stretches of extreme weather without food? Bears. Bear and bare are homophones: words that sound the same but mean different things and are spelled differently. Most people don’t have a problem using these words when speaking, but writing them down creates a new set of problems. I can speak with authority on the subject of being hard up. I have been a provincial actor. If further evidence be required, which I do not think likely, I can add that I have been a “gentleman connected with the press.” I have lived on 15 shilling a week. I have lived a week on 10, owing the other 5; and I have lived for a fortnight on a great-coat.Hard to Bear is a work of witness, advocacy and hope. It originates from Isabelle Oderberg’s experience of being told by an obstetrician, during her sixth miscarriage, that if women were better educated about pregnancy loss, she “wouldn’t be crying about it”. Bleeding and cramping as the doctor waves aside her grief, Oderberg still finds a gift in his dismissal – a fervent and furious flame: “the desire to write this book”. Isabelle Oderberg’s Hard to Bear examines pregnancy loss through a lens of investigative journalism upheld by a strong phenomenological framework. Writing with humour, heart and intelligence, the author examines pregnancy loss from practical, cultural, medical and personal perspectives, in accessible and engaging prose. Touching on subjects as varied as defining personhood and the disposal of remains, Oderberg negotiates a gentle path through grief with informed analysis, with an overarching aim towards abolishing taboo. From the many physical causes of miscarriage, to the socioeconomic, environmental and behavioural factors impacting women’s experiences of pregnancy loss, Oderberg focuses on an Australian context without neglecting alternative statistics and perspectives. There are many burning questions and few satisfactory answers surrounding the search for adequate pregnancy-loss support – a gap this book aims to bridge with scientific fact and empathic compassion. Readers who have experienced poor healthcare in the context of pregnancy loss will be infuriated – but not surprised – by the systemic issues uncovered by the author’s research. Aptly titled, Hard to Bear may be emotionally triggering to the same demographic it is most likely to benefit. However, as evidenced by the author’s dedication to the cause, perseverance can lead to positive outcomes, and this book does end on an optimistic note. I should like to know, too, by what mysterious law of nature it is that before you have left your watch “to be repaired” half an hour, some one is sure to stop you in the street and conspicuously ask you the time. Nobody even feels the slightest curiosity on the subject when you’ve got it on.