Miscarriage is something many women go through—about 1 in 4, actually. But we rarely talk about it. Not until it happens to you. Then suddenly, stories start surfacing—from friends, coworkers, even strangers. And you wonder: why didn’t anyone say anything before?
I get it. Grief is personal. Some people keep it private, and that’s okay. But I believe if more of us shared our experiences, it wouldn’t feel so shocking or lonely for those going through it for the first time. It’s still heartbreaking—but knowing you’re not alone makes a difference. A friend’s support can mean everything.
I had a miscarriage almost two years ago. Time helps, and now I have a little boy. But I’ll never forget how painful that experience was.
I remember the joy of seeing that faint line on the pregnancy test. I was thrilled. But at the doctor’s office, the test came back negative. When I asked why, she said I might be having a miscarriage. Her words felt like a warning I didn’t want to hear.
She sent me for a blood test. It confirmed I was pregnant, but my HCG levels were low—around 200. A few days later, they dropped to 100. That’s when it started to sink in. I was in the car with my husband, dropping him off at work. We read the message together and just knew. I tried to stay strong and went to work anyway. Looking back, maybe I shouldn’t have.
I miscarried in the bathroom at work.
I’d just grabbed a coffee with a friend when I felt dizzy. He helped me to the toilet. Inside, I felt sick, cramping, and intense pain—like a severe period. It was awful. After the vomiting, the motion, and the bleeding stopped, the pain eased a little. I called an ambulance. They said they don’t come for “minor” things like this. I was devastated—lying on the bathroom floor, in a place I never imagined I’d be in such pain.
Thankfully, my friend stayed close. I asked him to drive me to the hospital—I couldn’t do it myself. It must’ve been intense for him too. At the hospital, they did an ultrasound to check if anything remained. My husband joined me by then. “Luckily,” everything had passed naturally, and I was given a week off work.
Even though I was only a few weeks pregnant, it was still a miscarriage. I know others have gone through worse—one of my friends lost her baby at 20 weeks, after sharing the happy news with everyone. Then she had to share the heartbreak too.
That experience left me anxious. When I got pregnant again, I was constantly worried. I didn’t want to lose him. I was extra careful, always alert, always hoping.
So here I am, sharing my story. Because I believe we need to talk about miscarriage more. It’s not something to hide or feel ashamed of. It’s real. It’s painful. And it happens to so many of us.
If you’ve been through something similar, I see you. I hope this story helps you feel a little less alone. And if you feel ready, I’d love to hear your story too—whether in the comments or in your own way. The more we speak, the more we heal. Let’s keep the conversation going.
Image by Alfons Landsmann from Pixabay
