Pregnancy Loss: My Journey Through Grief, Hope, and Resilience
October is pregnancy and infant loss awareness month.
In this blog post, I share my journey through pregnancy loss, having walked this path three times. I reflect on some difficult truths that are often left unspoken, discuss the complexities of grief and its impact on my relationships, and how I've found small moments of joy amidst the sadness. My hope is to remind you that you are not alone and to encourage open conversations about these experiences as we honor our feelings and heal together.
A Little Note
October is pregnancy and infant loss awareness month. As I share my personal experience with pregnancy loss, I want to acknowledge that my story is just one of many. While I am primarily speaking to a female audience as a life coach for women, I recognize and hold space for all individuals who experience pregnancy and infant loss, regardless of gender identity and background. This journey can affect anyone, and I honor each experience and perspective. Additionally, I write from my first-person perspective, reflecting my own personal feelings and pregnancy loss experiences.
My three angels
In the last three years, I’ve faced the heartbreak of losing three angel babies. Each loss has carved out a piece of my heart in ways that words alone cannot fully express. Still, sharing my story has helped me heal, and I hope in some way, it can offer comfort to others walking through a similar season.
My journey began in January 2022 with my first miscarriage, a loss at nearly eight weeks. The doctors assured me it was common, a matter of “bad luck,” as 20% of known pregnancies end in miscarriage. It took me a long time to feel emotionally prepared to TTC (try to conceive) again, as the fear of experiencing another loss weighed heavily on my heart and created intense anxiety for me.
In April 2023, I experienced my second loss at nearly nine weeks. We went to our first ultrasound cautiously optimistic, only to be met with the devastating news that our baby had stopped growing and there was no longer a heartbeat. I had to carry that pregnancy for another week before undergoing a D&C, classified as a "missed miscarriage," meaning my body had not yet recognized that the pregnancy was unviable. Complicating matters were fears that this pregnancy might be a partial molar pregnancy, but unfortunately, the doctors couldn’t come to a consensus due to differing opinions and test results. Needless to say, the months that followed were filled with countless blood tests, procedures, fear, and the agonizing wait for answers as we underwent fertility testing — a process I had to actively advocate for. I’ve learned that being your own biggest advocate during your infertility journey is absolutely essential.
After receiving the green light to “try again,” nearly another half year passed with no success in conceiving. While we could have continued down that path, we decided to use some of our fertility benefits before we moved. In June 2024, following a successful IVF cycle, we faced the heartache of a third loss. This time, we had heard the heartbeat, only to lose the pregnancy shortly after. What made this even harder was that it happened during my husband’s residency graduation weekend — a moment that should have been filled with celebration and joy after nine long years of dedication and hard work. Our families had flown in to celebrate the same day we were told there was no heartbeat, and while we hosted them, we chose to compartmentalize our grief. It was an incredibly difficult experience made even harder by these added layers. That third loss shook me to my core.
What No One Tells You About Pregnancy Loss
Pregnancy loss is a deeply personal and complex experience. It’s something no one prepares you for, and yet, in facing it three times, I’ve come to understand some difficult truths that are rarely talked about — truths I feel called to share with others who may be going through this in silence.
Disenfranchised Grief
The pain of losing a pregnancy extends far beyond the physical. It’s what experts call “disenfranchised grief,” a type of grief that society doesn’t fully acknowledge because it’s often invisible. It’s the loss of not just a pregnancy, but of the future you had imagined. I’ve lost the ability to feel excitement about a positive pregnancy test. I’ve lost trust in my body to do what it’s meant to do. I’ve lost faith in the doctors who tell me that the statistics are on my side for my next pregnancy. Pregnancy loss is a loss that permeates every part of who you are, and it can feel like you’re losing your body, your innocence, and your future in the process.
The mental and Physical toll
After a miscarriage, your body goes through a lot of intense changes. It’s not just the physical loss of the pregnancy — marked by painful symptoms like heavy bleeding and intense labor-like cramping — but also the sudden hormonal crash, which mirrors what women experience postpartum. The hormones that carried you through pregnancy typically drop suddenly, making the emotional rollercoaster that much more overwhelming.
So few people discuss the mental toll of pregnancy loss. There’s postpartum depression and anxiety, but because it wasn’t a “full-term birth,” it often goes untreated or unspoken. Studies show that 1 in 10 women who experience miscarriage develop major depression, and many others battle with anxiety and trauma symptoms for months after. For me, the hormonal crashes after each loss felt like I was losing myself. No one told me how “normal” that emotional experience was, and how okay it is to ask for help. Again, I had to be my own best advocate and seek out support.
Unpredictable Waves
Grief is not a linear journey — it ebbs and flows in ways that can often feel overwhelming. As Jenna Kutcher, one of my favorite business marketing experts who has also experienced pregnancy losses, beautifully put it, “Grief is an ocean. Some days you can sit on the shore and appreciate the depth, the current, the power, and accept it — some days you are sucked in and pulled under by the waves.” This quote so perfectly captures the unpredictable nature of loss. You can feel okay for a moment, maybe even for a day, and then out of nowhere, you’re hit by a wave of grief so overwhelming that it brings you to your knees.
the Isolation
Pregnancy loss is extremely isolating. Even with the best intentions, no one can fully understand what you're going through. Not even your partner, who might be grieving alongside you, can truly feel the physical and emotional pain that is within you. You’re the one who carries the weight of the loss in every sense — emotionally, mentally, and physically.
feeling broken
After miscarriage, it’s easy to feel broken — like your body has failed you, or that you’re somehow wrong or damaged. You may even start to wonder if something is inherently wrong with you, and the weight of that thought can be unbearable at times. It's a difficult mental and emotional battle, and the sense of failure or inadequacy can overshadow everything else that you know to be true about you. But here’s what I’ve come to understand: feeling broken does not mean you are broken. There’s a world of difference between the two, and while the emotional weight can feel overwhelming at times, it’s not the truth. You are not broken.
The Self-Blame Game
One of the most difficult parts of miscarriage is the internal self-blame dialogue that can spiral out of control. You question everything you did — whether it was something you ate, that one glass of wine before you knew you were pregnant, a workout that was too intense, the list goes on. You dissect every single moment, trying to pinpoint where things went wrong, even though everyone is telling you none of this was your fault. The guilt, the “what-ifs,” they linger. It’s part of the grief. But please hear me when I say — nothing you did caused your loss. Nothing.
your journey is unique
Grief looks different for everyone, and so does the path to healing. There is no "one size fits all" approach. Each person’s experience with loss is deeply personal, and the emotions that come with it can vary widely — from anger and sadness to confusion and doubt. You might find yourself questioning everything: your faith, your purpose, your body, even your relationships. And that’s okay. It’s also okay to feel moments of joy during the sorrow, just as I did during my husband’s graduation. Grief and happiness can coexist, even when it feels impossible. Again, there’s no guidebook for how to grieve "correctly." There’s no timeline you need to follow. Your journey through loss is uniquely your own, and it’s important to honor the way you process it, however that may look.
Navigating marriage
Miscarriage also tests your marriage. My husband and I have had to navigate some of the hardest experiences and conversations of our lives. Some days we leaned on each other for strength, and other days, we needed space to process our grief in our own ways. There is no perfect script for surviving pregnancy loss — let alone multiple losses — as a couple. It’s messy, it’s painful, and it’s deeply personal. But what I’ve learned is that patience, love, and grace are essential. When everything felt too overwhelming, I would remind myself that tomorrow is a new day — a new opportunity to breathe, to heal, and to continue moving forward together.
Navigating relationships
Pregnancy loss can also deeply affect other relationships too. I’ve had friends hesitate to share their pregnancy news with me, afraid it would cause me pain, while others, who didn’t fully understand the depth of my grief (how could they if they hadn’t walked in my shoes), unintentionally said things that were very hurtful. There’s no manual — for you or the people in your life — on how to navigate such a loss. Events like pregnancy announcements or baby showers can feel especially challenging, not because you don’t love or support your friends and family, but because the contrast between their joy and your grief can be jarring. Yet, there are also moments when you can celebrate their happiness without it weighing so heavily on your heart. Communicating your feelings and needs with those closest to you is essential; true friends and family will want to understand and support you.
Life moves on
The world doesn’t pause for your pain. Responsibilities don’t stop, and while some days the mundane tasks and daily routines offer a helpful distraction, other days all you want to do is to pack your bags, escape to the middle of the woods, and be alone to cry. During my season of loss, I often found solace in my client sessions. They allowed me to put my own struggles aside for an hour and focus on supporting others. It was like pressing pause on my life, which filled me with a sense of (sometimes fleeting) purpose and joy. I genuinely believe that if I had been in any other profession, I wouldn’t have coped as well, and the privilege of owning my own business is not lost on me. Those client sessions helped me strike a balance between honoring my grief and moving toward my purpose. While some days are undeniably tougher than others, with time, you learn to navigate both your grief and the ongoing responsibilities of life…one day at a time.
you’re still a mother
The truth is, you’re still a mother. I remind myself of this often. Even though I don’t have a baby in my arms, I feel my angel babies are still with me. Something I discovered after my second loss was that babies share DNA with their mothers, and that means my angels are literally a part of me forever. I carry them in my heart and in my body, and that will never change. While society, friends, and family may not always acknowledge this, especially on days like Mother’s Day, it doesn’t change the fact that you are, and always will be, a mother.
Grief is not linear
The trauma of miscarriage stays with you, no matter how much time passes. You’ll have moments where it all comes rushing back — triggered by a memory, a show on Netflix, a due date on the calendar, or even just a quiet moment to breathe. But even in that pain, there’s a thread of resilience that runs through all of us. Because despite everything, we keep going. And it does get easier. Not because we forget, but because we learn how to carry our grief with us, and we learn how to find moments of joy again.
One of my favorite ways to understand grief is through a metaphor I learned from my therapist: envision grief as a large, bouncy ball inside a small box. In the immediate aftermath of a loss, the ball fills the box, overwhelming every moment and making it difficult to focus on anything else as it touches nearly every square inch of that small box. Over time, however, the ball begins to shrink, representing how your grief becomes more manageable. Although the box — symbolizing your life — remains the same size, the smaller ball indicates that grief no longer consumes you entirely. It won't always be painful; instead, it will occasionally bounce around, reminding you of your loss. Through this process, you learn to navigate life with both your grief and moments of joy existing side by side.
You Are Not Alone
If you’ve walked this path before, or if you’re walking it now, I want you to know — you are absolutely not alone. Your grief is real, and it deserves to be acknowledged. You don’t have to go through this alone. There are women like me, and like you, who understand the depths of this pain. And we will keep going. We will keep hoping. We will keep praying. We will keep showing up for ourselves and others. Because as impossible as it feels sometimes, there is still hope for us. We are not broken. We are strong. We are resilient. And we will keep moving forward. Together.
Sending you so much love,
Samantha
P.s. If you’re supporting a loved one who has experienced pregnancy or infant loss, remember that simply being present and listening without judgment can be one of the most powerful ways to show your love and support. Avoid well-meaning but dismissive platitudes like, “Everything happens for a reason,” “At least you can get pregnant,” “Have you thought about adoption?" or “You can try again.” Instead, create space for healing conversations by asking how they are really feeling. Use phrases such as, “This is incredibly difficult,” “I’m so sorry for your loss,” “I’m here for you,” “I don’t have the words to take the pain away, but I’m by your side,” “Your feelings are valid,” and “Take all the time you need.” Your compassion can be a source of comfort during their healing journey — one they likely need more than ever (even if they don’t ask that of you).
Like what you see?
Get the one-on-one support and accountability you desire, learn how to create a mindset that works for you instead of against you, and take aligned action forward towards your next-level life.