I grieved alone in silence and healed through connection and community
This pregnancy and infant loss awareness month, I am responding to a call from Griffiths (2021) and Reed (2025) to “start sharing our stories and exposing our vulnerabilities to help others”.
The memory of the day I heard the words “there is no heartbeat” is as fresh and raw today as it was 27+ years ago.
But now, the feelings it evokes are not pain. They fuel a passionate drive to #changethenarrative around pregnancy loss and to stress the importance of miscarriage grief being witnessed and supported.
The weight of silent grief
For almost 17 years, I carried the weight of those words that changed my life alone. In silence, I mourned what might have been. I cried unseen in the shower, in the car, in the bathroom at work. I had no words to express the deep sorrow of losing two beings that had barely begun to exist.
And perhaps more significantly, there was nowhere to share my feelings.
I did not know the value of therapy. The therapist I was referred to was amazing, but I was afraid that seeking help for something so “small” meant I was weak. And strength was something I prided myself on.
Like with most grief, some people expressed condolences. But there was also a loud subtext of “it was just a miscarriage, why are you so distraught?”
In my ignorance of grief and the grieving process, I internalised the views of the majority. I believed I had no right to grieve, miscarriages should be kept private, just move on. There were many other comments that I now know to be not only ignorant but also trivialising of the depth and intensity of my loss.
Compounded losses
After repeated losses on the #ivfrollercoaster, the weight of grief became heavy, unrelenting, and lasted for years. Invisible to most and not understandable to the close few who knew, I genuinely thought I was broken.
Why was I struggling with something others seemed to sail through?
This is the reality of unacknowledged grief: it is confusing, significantly impacts wellbeing, and hinders the ability to be fully who we are.
The power of being seen
One sunny October day, at a community event for pregnancy and infant loss, something shifted.
When my loss was finally acknowledged, without judgement, without ridicule — I realised I wasn’t broken. I was a mom grieving the loss of my babies. I didn’t need fixing, I needed to be seen and heard.
And I wasn’t alone.
From isolated pain to healing in community
Research says that grief that is not acknowledged, known as disenfranchised grief, can lead to isolation and withdrawal. It can give rise to feeling stigmatised and guilty. And it can lead to deep questions around identity, struggling to find a way to be in a world that has forever changed for us but remains the same to those on the outside.
The power of being seen by people who “get baby loss” either 1 to 1 with a therapist, in a support group, or a community event says
your babies mattered
your love matters
you matter
you are not alone
your feelings are real
I will sit with you in the muck without trying to fix you
Connection
offers language to voice feelings
provides comfort through shared rituals
brings H.O.P.E – hold on pain ends
reminds us that we feel loss because we first felt love.
is a living example of how we too can get through this
Honouring loss, love, and life
Being vulnerable in sharing my story, to lay raw my grief and healing, is not a weakness. It is to live to my full potential. To live the life my twins could not. It is to honour their short lives. To know that their existence mattered.
To paraphrase Brene Brown - owning our story is hard, but not nearly as difficult as hiding and running from it. By being brave to find our own light, who knows how many other dark paths we may be able to illuminate.
How Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month might help you
Pregnancy loss is a sensitive matter. Everyone’s grief is as unique as their fingerprints.
Not everyone is comfortable or ready to share. Not everyone feels the deep intense grief I have voiced.
But for those who are looking to know you are not alone, you are not broken, please reach out to wherever you feel most safe to be seen and heard.
This October
💜Learn all you can about grief and baby loss
💜 Reach out to someone who may be grieving — your presence can make a difference.
💜 If you are grieving, know that support is available. Reach out to a therapist or a support group to walk alongside you in your healing.
💜 It does not matter how long ago your loss occurred — grief has no curfew.
The words “there is no heartbeat” will always be part of my story. But now, so too are the words: you are not alone.
References
Doka, K. J. (2002). Disenfranchised grief: New directions, challenges, and strategies for practice. Research Press.
Griffiths, H. 2021. “Invisible People: A Story of Fertility Treatment and Loss During the Pandemic.” Supplement, Gender, Work and Organization 28, no. S2: 397–404. https://doi.org/10.1111/gwao.12665.
Reed, Heidi. 2025. “ I Can('t) Talk About It At Work: Stigma Entanglement and the Epistemic Vulnerability Paradox,” Gender, Work & Organization: 1–12. https://doi.org/10.1111/gwao.70044.
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