Candice Warner’s brave admission is breaking taboos

I WILL never forget the helplessness I felt as my wife experienced a miscarriage, or the silent suffering that followed. Warner sharing her own heartbreak has started a powerful conversation, writes James MacSmith.

CANDICE Warner’s brave move to speak publicly about her tragic miscarriage in the wake of Australian cricket’s ball tampering scandal will hopefully bring the sensitive topic out of the quiet and into the realm of wider public discourse.

Miscarriage is one of most heartbreaking, emotional and challenging experiences a woman, and couple, can experience.

But sadly it is one which, in my experience, couples are often forced to navigate largely alone, and without an adequate support network, because talking about it publicly remains largely a Victorian-era taboo.

I will never forget the absolute helplessness I felt as my wonderful wife Jessica lay sprawled on our bathroom floor, utterly terrified as our most cherished of dreams cruelly and inexplicably bled out of her. Of course, she felt even worse.

That it happened more than once only compounded our feelings of loss, and the utter despair that we had no control over our lives. I wondered why we didn’t feel free to talk about the sadness of what had occurred with our family and friends. Jessica felt what could only be described as shame, even though of course it was not her fault. I felt far less of a man. It wasn’t that we felt unable to express our loss out aloud, we certainly talked about it with each other. But we didn’t feel it was — I don’t know — right or acceptable to speak about it with others.

Candice and David Warner with their daughters, arriving back in Sydney from South Africa in March. (Pic: Peter Parks)

And so we largely suffered, and grieved, in private and on our own, which only made the experiences even worse.

That doctors who had been at our beck and call were now, or so it appeared, more difficult to contact, only added to those feelings of isolation.

If one in six pregnancies end in miscarriage and one in three women experience the terribly traumatic event during their reproductive lives, then why do we talk about it in such hushed tones — or why don’t we talk about it at all?

Through women such as Warner speaking out, hopefully this state of play will evolve in much the same way that mental illness has become a topic people are not longer ashamed to discuss.

“I was beginning to feel that first stage of being pregnant — the subtle changes to my body were kicking in. We were overwhelmed, knowing another little Warner was on the way,” Warner told the Australian Women’s Weekly.

“I don’t think either of us realised how much we longed for this baby.”

They are comments, I am sure, those who have also endured a similar experience can strongly empathise with.

It was only after I chose to disclose the details of our personal devastation to friends that I realised how many others had battled through what we had, and that in turn helped our own healing process, and theirs. We were not suffering alone. We were not cursed. There was light at the end of the tunnel.

My wife’s first pregnancy was without incident and we were blessed with our first boy Kurt three years ago. It was only after that we realised how lucky we had been.

After struggling emotionally and physically through a number of miscarriages, the horrible memories of which will never leave us but have brought us closer together and taught us to love the children we do have even more, our second son Byron was born two months ago.

He too is a blessing, a reminder even of both how good and bad, or lucky and unfair, life can be.

Warner revealed she suffered the miscarriage upon returning from Australia’s tour of South Africa where she had been publicly humiliated and slut-shamed for a liaison with rugby star Sonny Bill Williams 11 years ago.

Candice Warner was in tears at her husband David Warner's press conference in March. (Pic: Supplied)

Her husband David, one of the our most exciting and richest athletes, was at the centre of the ball-tampering scandal that brought Australian cricket to its knees and resulted in a year suspension for Warner, former captain Steve Smith and former opening batsman Cameron Bancroft.

In the genteel game of cricket, which is inexplicably judged with far higher standards than most other sports, it was a crime of the highest order and players who had previously been celebrated as idols across the country and indeed the world, were excoriated as criminals.

The tsunami of outrage that greeted the offences in Australia has probably never been seen before. In the whole scheme of things though, doctoring a little red ball is well down on the scale. A casual reading through today’s news will quickly reinforce that.

Cricket is only a game. But those attacking David and Candice Warner were messing with their lives. It says more about each of us and how Australian culture operates as we gleefully tear down those who have experienced considerable success when they do expose themselves as vulnerable and human.

By far the saddest outcome of the ball tampering issue is not that cricket copped the proverbial black eye. Or that we won’t witness David Warner smashing another ball out of the park or enjoy Steve Smith’s unorthodox yet brilliant batsmanship for 12 months. It is that the loss of a child was probably an unforeseen aspect of the stress forced upon a pregnant woman.

Fertility is one medical speciality in which my wife and I discovered doctors would frequently offer the “we don’t know” explanation, including the cause of miscarriages; stress may or may not be a contributing factor. Many women who have suffered through one will tell you that they feel it is.

In her interview with the Australian Women’s Weekly, Warner said the miscarriage was “a heartbreaking end to a horror tour”. It is impossible to believe it didn’t affect her health and that of her unborn child.

If any good can come of what was said to be Australian cricket’s greatest scandal in 40 years, it is that we all take a breath before we move so hastily to condemn the behaviour of others for fear of the effects.

And that miscarriage can be treated with the public discussion and understanding it deserves.

Originally published as Candice Warner’s brave admission is breaking taboos