Pregnancy loss is a unique kind of grief. It’s not linear, and it’s deeply personal. Some women, after welcoming their rainbow baby—the child who comes after the storm of loss—find that the heartache fades into a distant memory. For others, the heaviness of loss lingers every day. Both are valid and normal ways to cope. And then there are those, like me, who navigate the complex web of emotions: hope, guilt, despair, and resilience, all intertwined.
The heartbreaking impact of pregnancy loss
My husband and I spent six long years trying to become parents. Three of those years involved doctors, medications, therapy, and IVF. Alongside infertility came the devastating reality of pregnancy loss. What surprised me most was how unprepared I was for it—emotionally, physically, and relationally. Society doesn’t prepare us for these experiences. Miscarriage, infertility, and reproductive challenges remain cloaked in silence and shame. Yet, the statistics tell a different story.
In the United States, 1 in 4 women experiences pregnancy loss. Globally, 1 in 6 couples faces infertility. These numbers highlight how common it is, but when you’re in the midst of it, you feel completely alone. My first miscarriage came after years of trying and three rounds of IVF. Despite everything we’d been through, I was shocked. I thought, surely, after all this time, I’d “earned” the right to avoid more heartbreak. But pregnancy loss doesn’t discriminate—it doesn’t care how much you’ve been through.
And the experience itself was nothing like I expected. I thought a miscarriage would be quick, clean, and relatively painless. I couldn’t have been more wrong. The physical pain, the long recovery, and the emotional toll were far beyond anything I’d imagined. The scariest part wasn’t the immediate grief—it was the lingering question: Would it ever happen for me? Would I ever hold a baby in my arms?
Related: Vida's personal story of pregnancy loss
The Impact of Pregnancy Loss on Relationships
Pregnancy loss tested my marriage like nothing else. It was the hardest obstacle we’ve ever faced together. When we fall in love, we don’t prepare for how we’ll handle losing a life we created together, but maybe we should.
We navigated it together, but not without struggles. It was also a turning point in my friendships. Some friends showed up for me in ways I’ll never forget. Others didn’t. I lost friendships during this time, and while it hurt, I’ve come to accept it.
My husband introduced me to a saying: “People come into your life for a reason, a season, or a lifetime.” Viewing relationships through this lens gave me clarity and peace.
I also learned a hard truth: I hadn’t been a great friend to others who’d gone through pregnancy loss before I experienced it myself. I didn’t know what to say, or worse, I said nothing. When I realized how isolating it felt, I reached out to apologize to those friends. Talking about pregnancy loss openly helps us all navigate these experiences better.
What to say (and not to say) to someone experiencing pregnancy loss
When supporting someone who’s grieving a miscarriage or infertility, the most important thing is to listen more than you talk. Here’s a guide for what to say and avoid:
Please don’t say:
Nothing at all.
Silence can feel like abandonment. If I were grieving the loss of a loved one, you’d bring it up. Pregnancy loss deserves the same care and acknowledgment.
“At least you know you can get pregnant.”
This isn’t comforting. There’s no guarantee that getting pregnant once means a healthy pregnancy in the future.
“My cousin’s friend had five IVFs and now has two kids.”
Other people’s stories don’t lessen the pain of my own experience.
“Keep me posted.”
This puts the burden on me to reach out. Grieving people often don’t have the energy to initiate.
“Just relax.”
Infertility and pregnancy loss aren’t caused by stress. Telling someone to relax is dismissive.
What is helpful to say:
“I’m so sorry. I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, but I’m here to listen.”
“Thinking of you.”
A simple text or note means the world.
“If you want to talk, I’m here. If not, let’s grab ice cream or coffee.”
Offer support without pressure.
“How are you, really?”
Ask with genuine care and be ready to hold space for their answer.
True empathy and compassion—not advice or platitudes—are the greatest gifts you can offer.
Reflecting on pregnancy loss and finding hope after miscarriage
My first due date from my initial miscarriage was December 1st. I think about it every year. It’s a quiet moment of remembrance for a life that could have been. After more losses and an ectopic pregnancy, I finally welcomed twins.
Every day, I marvel at them with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. But I know not everyone’s story ends this way. Pregnancy loss changes you. It leaves a mark, but it also teaches resilience, compassion, and strength.
Related: Ronit's story of optimizing fertility following pregnancy loss
A Note from WeNatal on supporting you through pregnancy loss
Pregnancy loss is a shared experience for so many of us. At WeNatal, we’ve walked this path, and our losses shaped our mission: to support, educate, and empower others on their reproductive journeys. We see you, we honor your grief, and we’re here to help. Together, we can break the silence and build a community where no one feels alone in their loss.
References
Freeman A, Neiterman E, Varathasundaram S. Women's experiences of health care utilization in cases of early pregnancy loss: A scoping review. Women Birth. 2021;34(4):316-324.
