No More Hiding: Let’s Talk About Miscarriage & Pregnancy Loss

Oct 12

Trigger alert - This article shares details of my personal experience of miscarriage. If you are pregnant or have recently experienced miscarriage or pregnancy loss you may choose not to read this article today. You may find it helpful to scroll to the end for some helpful resources or return altogether on a different day. Please take care of your heart.

I am sharing my story in hopes that those who choose to read this and have experienced miscarriage feel less alone. I am also sharing to reduce stigma and shame regarding these experiences. Openness breeds connection and support, which is what many of us need when experiencing pregnancy loss.

What Is A Miscarriage?

The definition of a miscarriage is the spontaneous loss of pregnancy before 20 weeks gestation and a stillbirth is the spontaneous loss of pregnancy at 20 weeks gestation or later (Mayo Clinic, 2026; LeWine, 2024). “In the first trimester, the terms miscarriage, spontaneous abortion, and early pregnancy loss are used interchangeably, and there is no consensus on terminology in the literature” (American College of Obstetrics and Gynecology, 2018). These are the medical definitions and are commonly misunderstood.

For myself, and I’m guessing others, the loss of a baby is the loss of a baby. There is no scale or measure for grief based on when you experienced your loss.

My experience is considered a miscarriage, so I’ll use mostly that word. However, this article aims to connect with and honor any stage of loss during pregnancy.

Why Don’t We Talk About Miscarriage & Pregnancy Loss?

I don’t have an exact answer to this question, only my best guesses. In the United States, where I live, the mainstream culture has significant difficulty with death in and of itself. With miscarriage there is also embarrassment and social discomfort related to misplaced feelings of responsibility on the mother’s part.

What ever the reason, we are doing ourselves a great disservice. We have a lot of misunderstandings about the prevalence and cause of miscarriage. We also have steered birthing people into a state of silence, shame, confusion and isolation.

Why We Need to Talk About Miscarriage & Pregnancy Loss

About 15 to 20 percent of all pregnancies in the Unites States result in miscarriage (LeWine, 2024). The risk of miscarriage increases with age (starting at age 35) and with prior consecutive miscarriages (two or more) (Mayo Clinic, 2026). Further, studies show that often times the birthing person feels guilt and responsibility for the loss; They also report feelings of isolation (Huff, 2024).

So there is a minimum of 15% of pregnant women and their partners needing support through this process, and needing pregnancy loss itself to be normalized.

We need to talk about miscarriage so that people are not navigating this process and this grief alone. We need to talk about miscarriage to promote healing and create a community of support, rather than shame and silence.

My Story

I experienced a miscarriage between my first and third pregnancies, which gave me my now 12-year-old daughter and 8-year-old son. My miscarriage began with some mild cramping and spotted bleeding on a Sunday evening.

I called my midwife right away to let her know and ask the dreaded question “Could this be a miscarriage?” She replied honestly that miscarriage may be a possibility, but that it’s not certain. She recommended I monitor my symptoms and schedule an ultrasound first thing Monday morning.

I was 13 weeks pregnant. We had shared with my family and friends that we were pregnant around 9 weeks or so. We had just told my then 10-year-old step-daughter thinking we were “safe” (most miscarriages happen prior to 12 weeks).

Sunday evening I was already overcome with sadness at what could be happening, what felt like was happening. I was tearful and trying to remain hopeful.

At the ultrasound, the technician noted that there wasn’t a heartbeat that she could detect. She also noted that she was not a diagnosing physician and that my midwife would share the results with me after conferring with the physician.

On our way home from the ultra sound my midwife called. Rather than ask how I was feeling or what I thought about the pregnancy, she opened with “I’m so sorry.” I immediately began crying and she asked “Did you not know? Did they not tell you?”

Ugh, these are the experiences that stick with you. When already faced with a dreadful situation, that a mistake is made, a thing is said, that adds salt to your open wound.‍ ‍

My midwife apologized for the miscommunication and invited me to come meet with her that day to discuss the loss.

In her office, she explained that the baby stopped developing around 7 weeks, but remained “viable” until the miscarriage began. She shared the statistics of how common miscarriage was and reassured me that it wasn’t anything I had done or my body being broken.

She also outlined the options for completing the miscarriage. She said that I could go to the hospital to have a procedure called a “DNC” (i.e. dilation and curettage) where they complete the physical aspect of the miscarriage by removing all of the “contents” of my uterus. It would be a faster process and complete, but invasive.

The other option, given I had no complications, was that I could complete the miscarriage “naturally.” She said that I could go home and let my body complete it’s process. It would take about a week or so and could include some cramping and continued bleeding.

Either way, she highly recommended I take the week off of work. I chose to go the natural route, and I did take the week off of work. But my process didn’t take a week and the description the midwife gave did not match my experience.

I didn’t just have cramping, I had contractions. I didn’t just continue to bleed, my body was expelling tissue, a placenta, a pregnancy. I was in labor.

For me, going through labor to have a miscarriage and not a baby was gut wrenching. Having given birth before, labor ended in one of the most unbelievable experiences of my life. An experience that is difficult to put words to, but encompassed all of the joy and amazement I had ever experienced in my life.

Now, the labor I was experiencing signaled the ending of a life and all the dreams and possibilities that went with it. It was the exact opposite. And I was doing it alone. Sitting on my toilet. Flushing my insides down the tubes.

Why do we let people go through this alone? Why is that our standard?

I was thinking those questions while I was crying on the toilet, contracting and flushing. I was thinking there had to be a better way then flushing our babies, a part of us, down the toilet.

That may sound vulgar and dramatic. It’s not a baby as we know them, chubby and cooing and about the size of a watermelon. But, for me, being pregnant was very much tied to my vision of my baby growing in my belly and a whole life to come. I was growing a human and the ending of that pregnancy didn’t change my concept of my baby.

After the contractions ended and it seemed to be “over,” I continued to bleed for 2 months.

In our system, once you’re no longer pregnant, you’re no longer a patient. To anybody. Not the midwife or OB/GYN because you’re not pregnant. And not the GP because they aren’t educated in perinatal care.

So even though I continued to bleed, it honestly did not occur to me to contact anyone. I just assumed it would stop. That my body was “figuring things out.” And I did not receive a follow up from my midwife or referrals for any other care provider, such as an a pelvic floor therapist or grief doula.

Eventually I did stop bleeding, but when we tried to get pregnant again we weren’t able to. We were very fortunate with how easily we got pregnant the first two times. Now it wasn’t happening.

Again, because I wasn’t pregnant, I didn’t get much help from the midwife. I called and she offered some suggestions on nuturtion that might help. Because in our system, there isn’t much help until you have a problem. If I had shown some signs of infertility then I would have gotten all the medical system has to offer in terms of support.

Instead, I found myself an acupuncturist. And after 3 visits and 1 menstrual cycle (which included old clotted blood and tissue), I got pregnant.

Years later, I came across a book all about natural childbirth and preparation. I started thumbing through it as a possible resource to share with my clients. I came across a section on miscarriage, which said that if you bleed longer than 7 days to seek immediate medical support. Immediate.

My stomach dropped and I began to cry. The feelings of neglect and sadness were so strong. The whole situation came flooding back to me in a way I did not expect. I did not realize the wounds I was still carrying from my experience.

Because I had no follow up care it wasn’t known that I had residual tissues or blood or something in my uterus. It was because I sought information and was willing to try new things that I was finally able to get pregnant. It was acupuncture and me, alone, figuring it out.

I must add that I had supportive family and friends. As I mentioned above, we shared our pregnancy with our parents, siblings and close friends. In hindsight, I’m so glad that we did. I felt less alone.

When it came to sharing our loss, everyone offered condolences and shared in our grief. I was fortunate that I didn’t receive any hurtful comments. I know that has happened to others as people try their best to offer comfort but miss the mark and create more hurt.

So, I wonder…

What would our experiences of pregnancy loss felt like if we were supported by loving, nurturing, carers with experience and wisdom?

What would our experience of grief and healing been like if we were guided through some sort of ritual around honoring and memorializing the physical loss of our baby?

My hope is that the more we normalize these experiences, prepare for them, and connect through them that we will come up with some pretty amazing answers to these questions and change the way we experience pregnancy loss.

Pregnancy Loss Support & Resources

Did you know there are doulas who specialize in pregnancy loss? I think this doula specialty is one of the most important resources to be aware of if you experience loss. While you and your partner may have no idea what to expect and are faced with grief, the bereavement doula is able to support you emotionally, as well as, supporting decision making and your physical experience.

The following are some pregnancy loss and bereavement doula resources:

In Minnesota and Western Wisconsin
- Elisabeth Salzwedel - Heartfelt Birth Services
- Denika Anderson - The Olive Tree
- Katie Slack - Sacred Waters Birth Services‍ ‍
Virtual Support
- The Miscarriage Doula & Co.
- Sanctuary Doulas and Family Care

There are also two fantastic perinatal organizations that provide a variety of support services and resources:

For people living in Minnesota, Pregnancy and Postpartum Support Minnesota provides support groups, classes on perinatal mood and anxiety disorders (PMADs), and a directory to connect you to a variety of providers who work with people in the perinatal population.
- Instagram @ppsupportmn
Postpartum Support International provides resources, support, and a provider directory across the US, Canada, the UK and Australia.
- Instagram @postpartumsupportinternational
- HelpLine 1-800-944-4773