Miscarriage and Grief: Rachel’s Story

When I found out I was pregnant for the first time, I immediately started imagining the future, filled with hope.

I downloaded the baby apps – the ones that tell you what fruit your baby is the same size as each week. I started to narrow down a long list of names. I even bought baby items (against my husband’s better judgement). Most thoughts turned to the pregnancy, the baby and future family life, while still being top secret. I felt an instant connection to the pregnancy, a physical and emotional attachment.

At past eight weeks, I started to lose some of the symptoms and knew something was wrong. I later went on to have a miscarriage. On the same day we had booked in our first private scan, we ended up at the Early Pregnancy Unit of the local hospital instead. Our first scan was to confirm there was no heartbeat.

I cried, chatted and we went for a walk to a nearby lake. The next day, I went back to work.

There’s a confusion around what to feel, but the loss still felt real.

Miscarriage is often minimised, especially when it happens early. There are no obvious signs of loss. No funeral. No birth certificate. No shared memories. And because most people don’t share their pregnancy news until after the 12-week scan, you manage the first trimester in secret. The first time I told some people I had been pregnant, was in the same sentence I told them I wasn’t anymore.

There’s confusion around what to feel. I told myself it was “just a couple of months.” I compared my experience to a friend who had a stillbirth, people grieving a child, or friends going through long infertility journeys. But the loss still felt real.

Guilt and grief

I found one of the hardest emotions to deal with was guilt. Dr Google and the social media algorithm is quick to throw out warnings and scare stories, so you question whether it was somehow your fault. Was I too stressed at work? Was it caused by the products I used when cleaning the bathroom? Should I have eaten differently? What if I can’t get pregnant again?

But miscarriage is common and the midwife reassured me it’s not usually something that can be linked to a cause. Dwelling on the ‘what ifs’ certainly wouldn’t make me feel any better. Being a ‘glass half full’ couple, we went on to have a great summer and went on many adventures that might not have been as easy had I been heavily pregnant. I tried to see the positives. And we went on to have two beautiful, healthy, children.

Miscarriage is often a silent loss

I thought I was the only person I knew of to have a miscarriage, but when I shared my news, people spoke about experiences of their own or people they knew. It is often a silent loss. Even sharing this brings up worry that I might sound too dramatic or self-indulgent. Back when I was searching for information on miscarriage symptoms, or packing away baby clothes that I’d bought too soon and feeling a bit silly – this is a story I would have found comfort in.

Grief, no matter how it looks, can impact your future. Even though I got back to normal life quickly, it completely changed my two future pregnancies. I didn’t feel the same joy and didn’t allow myself to get too excited. I was constantly expecting something to go wrong. Scans became something to dread, not look forward to. And as someone who enjoys celebrating the milestones, that makes me feel sad.

Making space to grieve

Every October, many people light a candle and remember someone for the Wave of Light. In my head, I named our baby Seren – which is the Welsh word for ‘star’ – and October would have been their due date. I usually take a moment to think about that, while also feeling grateful for what I do have. These two feelings are valid.

If you’ve experienced pregnancy loss, you are allowed to make space to grieve. You are allowed to feel disappointment, confusion or nothing. Miscarriage can be lonely and misunderstood. It’s a reminder that you never really know what anybody else is going through.