To The Woman Who Just Found Out She’s Miscarrying

tampa blogger ayana lage discusses miscarriage awareness

Faith Danielle Photography

To the woman who is miscarrying,

You’ve just experienced the worst day of your life. Maybe you saw blood in your underwear and just knew something was terribly wrong. Or maybe — like me — you were blissfully unaware, excited to hear your baby’s heartbeat, when you saw the expression on the doctor’s face change and your heart sunk.

I stopped drinking, avoided caffeine, took prenatals, gave up raw sushi, got enough sleep, ate my vegetables and stopped eating deli meat, only to find out that my pregnancy wasn’t viable. If it were possible to persuade the universe to grant us healthy babies thanks to good behavior, we’d both be happily pregnant, preparing a nursery and buying baby clothes. It’s terribly unfair, isn’t it?

I’m sorry. 

I’m sorry for the physical pain. Why didn’t anyone tell us that it hurts like hell?

I’m sorry for the blood. So much blood. I’m sorry you have to watch blood clots swirl down the toilet drain.

I’m sorry you’ll have to open the pregnancy apps that brought you so much joy and find the dreaded “Report a Loss” section to stop the emails about the baby’s progress.

I’m sorry you might feel bad about the weight you gained now that there’s no baby. I’m sorry that every glance in the mirror is a reminder of what could’ve been.

I’m sorry for all of the people you’ll have to tell.

And if you hadn’t told anyone in the first place, I’m sorry that you’ll have to deal with this alone.

I’m sorry for the dumb comments you’ll get. At least you know you can get pregnant! It must’ve been God’s will. My friend miscarried much later than you, so it could be worse. 

I’m sorry that your optimism has been stolen — that you’ll hold your breath every second of the next pregnancy, knowing precisely how many things can go wrong.

I’m sorry that people will expect you to just get over it.

I’m sorry that you’ll feel a twinge of pain every time you see a pregnancy announcement on social media.

I mourn with you. My heart aches for you. I grieve your baby with you, whether you were 4 weeks pregnant or 40 weeks pregnant. The loss of a wanted pregnancy is an agony that’s impossible to imagine until you’ve experienced it.

Here’s what I want you to know: One day, you will wake up, and you won’t think about your baby the entire day. It may be next week, or it may be several years from now. You will feel terribly guilty and wonder if maybe you weren’t cut out for motherhood, anyway. What kind of woman forgets her own baby?

But here’s what I’ve learned: You can grieve your baby until the day that you die without committing to a life of misery. It doesn’t make you a bad person to feel less sad over time; it makes you human. But right now, honor your sadness. Make space for it. Feel it fully.

I’m so sorry.


Leave a Comment


  1. Sophie wrote:

    Thank you so much, I felt like some one else understands my pain and doesn’t just expect me to go back to work that same day let alone same week. That feeling of emptiness, that feeling of sitting in a dark space at 3:46am crying to yourself. I am so glad this has found me. Thank you♡

    I am so sorry for yours you are not alone and I send you hugs and so much love ♡

    Posted 2.20.21 Reply
    • Ayana Lage wrote:

      Sophie, I’m so sorry for your pain. I hope you’re doing okay right now — it’s okay to grieve and mourn for as long as you need.

      Posted 4.14.21 Reply
  2. Samantha wrote:

    Thank you for posting this. ❤️

    Posted 3.7.22 Reply
  3. Sadia wrote:

    I just need to be hugged. Felt like I’m reading my own thoughts. Thank you for writing this powerful piece.

    Posted 3.8.22 Reply
    • Ayana Lage wrote:

      Sending so much love your way, Sadia.

      Posted 3.21.22 Reply
    • Taylor G wrote:

      Sadia, I feel your pain. This unfortunate loss has taught me that no one can fully understand this grief unless they’ve experienced it as well. I’m sorry you are going through this, you are not alone. I am angry and bitter. I am fighting back tears at work. I am scrolling through FB and seeing pregnancy announcement and gender reveals. Each one is like a punch in the gut. I don’t like the person I am at this time but I believe I can get through this and hopefully one day I can write an amazing blog such as this and help women like us. Sending you a virtual hug and a reminder that you’re a strong woman. -Taylor

      Posted 5.6.22 Reply
  4. Madelyn Montoya wrote:

    Thank you for this!

    Posted 3.25.22 Reply
  5. Taylor G wrote:

    I feel validated in my grief. I am sorry you had to experience a similar loss. Thank you for your kind heart.

    Posted 5.6.22 Reply
  6. Samantha wrote:

    Thank you 💔

    Posted 5.27.22 Reply
  7. Annie wrote:

    Thank you so much. This is spot on. I was the same way – went in for a routine ultrasound, had no idea my hopes and dreams were about to be crushed. For a while I felt like I would never be happy again. And I still feel jealous when I see pregnancy announcements on social media; then immediately feel horribly guilty for resenting my friends’ happiness. I hate myself for being like this, but I can’t help but look at other women around me and think “She’s a terrible mom. I would have been a much better mother. Why does she get to have a healthy baby and I don’t?” I know that’s so toxic, and I don’t want to feel that way. It sucks.

    Posted 12.15.22 Reply
    • Ayana Lage wrote:

      Hi Annie, I’m so sorry for your loss. I went through the EXACT same process — the resentment, the jealousy, all of it. It feels cliche to say that it gets better, but I’m nearly four years out and life is so different now. I wish I would’ve known then that I would be able to heal one day. I’m sending you healing thoughts!

      Posted 1.9.23 Reply