Monday morning, 10 a.m., the exam room at the gynecology department. Cold gel on my belly. I’m 15 weeks pregnant and have been spotting since yesterday. Our little one appears on the screen. He’s still. His heart is no longer beating. He’s measuring the size of a 13-week-old fetus.
The moment I see it myself, the tears come. I feared something was wrong, but a part of me still hoped everything was okay. That hope is now gone, and the sadness wraps around me like a heavy blanket.
A miscarriage cuts deep
I knew miscarriage was possible. But I had no idea how deeply it would affect me when it actually happened. After this late miscarriage, it happened to us again. And not long after, I knew: I can’t go through this again.
I didn’t want our lives and that of our son, who we were lucky to already have, to be defined by what wasn’t there. I wanted to find joy in what was. We had been a happy little family of three for years.
After our son was born, I hesitated for a long time about having another child. When we finally felt ready, this is what happened.
From my own loss to guiding others
Two years later, I began my training to become a psychosocial therapist. At the start, I told myself I’d never work with miscarriage. It felt way too close. And at the time, that was true.
But throughout the training, the topic kept resurfacing. In therapy sessions, during weekend workshops, in personal essays, I kept bumping into it. That’s when true healing started for me, at a deeper level.
In the third year, while writing a paper, it hit me: why am I resisting this? This is exactly what I had missed, and this is where I can make a difference for someone else. That moment led to the decision to write my thesis on grief after miscarriage, and shortly after, I became one of the first miscarriage counselors in private practice.
“You’re not just no-longer-pregnant, you’re grieving a child you never got to meet.”
Miscarriage can feel incredibly lonely
One of the most painful parts for me was the loneliness. No one felt it the way I did, not even my partner. No one truly understood what I was going through. People were kind and let me cry or talk, but I had to explain everything first, and that made it feel even more isolating.
Thinking about all the women struggling with that same loneliness still moves me deeply. That’s why I’ve been doing this work, with love, for over 10 years now.
Losing a pregnancy means losing an unseen child
A miscarriage isn’t “just one of those things.” It’s a real loss that cuts deep. That also applies to pregnancies that end differently, like an ectopic pregnancy, or when a prenatal test leads to the decision to end the pregnancy.
No matter how short the pregnancy, you carried your baby under your heart. You already loved them. And now you’re forced to say goodbye before you even got the chance to know them. You’re not just no-longer-pregnant, you’re grieving a child you never got to meet. Even an early miscarriage can leave a deep emotional impact.
How long does grief after a miscarriage last?
It can last longer than expected and often longer than those around you realize. Around your due date, for example, emotions can resurface. And that’s okay. You get to take the time you need.
Many women manage to cope and find their way back on their own. But if you’re struggling, because of life stress, infertility, or multiple miscarriages, it may be hard to move forward.
Miscarriage support can help
Are you noticing that the loss hits you harder than expected? Do you long for peace after a painful pregnancy loss? Then specialized miscarriage counseling may help, whether online or in person, one-on-one or in small groups. You don’t have to go through this alone.
