Loss, Letting Go, and Listening In: What My Miscarriages Taught Me
Estimated reading time: 5 minutes
Topic Overview :
A sacred reflection on miscarriage and pregnancy loss, how it shapes the body and soul, and what it taught about surrender, self-trust, and the inner voice of the womb.
Key Points:
Pregnancy loss is both a physical and spiritual experience.
Each loss teaches something different: about the body, timing, and trust.
Miscarriage is not a sign of failure but a sacred part of the womb’s wisdom.
Grief, silence, and stillness hold lessons that prepare us for deeper motherhood.
Source: Pexels
Loss doesn’t always arrive with warning.
Sometimes it comes quietly, wrapped in confusion, without ceremony.
After my first birth, I experienced three pregnancy losses, each one different, each one shaping me in ways I couldn’t have imagined.
No one had ever taught me how to grieve a miscarriage. There were no rituals. No guidance. Just this hollow space between hope and disappointment. But within that space, something else began to grow: listening.
Each Loss Was a Messenger
My second pregnancy ended in miscarriage. I remember feeling the shift in my body before I saw the blood. There was a knowing, subtle, but certain. That pregnancy had brought joy, then fear, then silence. And when it ended, I didn’t know how to speak about it.
I went on to experience two more early losses. One after a family death. One during an intensely stressful season. With each one, my body spoke louder: “Something is not aligned.”
It wasn’t just about loss. It was about rhythm. Timing. Nourishment. My womb was trying to tell me something about what she was ready for and what she wasn’t.
Miscarriage Is Not a Failure
In a world that rushes to fix and explain, we rarely give space for mystery. But I didn’t want my womb to be pathologized. I didn’t want to feel like a failure. I wanted to know: what if this was not a mistake, but a message?
That shift in perspective changed everything. I stopped blaming my body and started listening to it. What do you need? What are you trying to protect me from? What are you holding that I have not yet released?
That listening became a spiritual practice. Not loud. Not visible. But deeply alive.
Grieving in a Culture That Stays Silent
I often felt alone in the grief. People don’t always know what to say. Sometimes they don’t say anything at all. And that silence made me question: Was this loss real? Did it matter?
But I knew it did. My body remembered. My heart remembered.
I began to make space for grief, not to fix it, but to honor it. I journaled. I prayed. I held my belly. I cried when I needed to. Slowly, the fog lifted. Not because the pain was gone, but because I had made room for it.
The Ground Between Pregnancies
What I didn’t realize at the time was that those losses were preparing me. They were refining my faith, strengthening my intuition, and humbling my pace. I wasn’t in control. I never had been. But I could be present. I could be tender. I could rebuild trust with my body.
That trust would become the foundation for how I approached birth in the years to come.
🌷Closing Reflection:
Pregnancy loss is not an interruption of life. It is part of life. It is part of the womb’s wisdom.
If you are holding grief in silence, know this: your body remembers. Your love is real. And your healing does not need to be loud to be holy.
When you are ready to step into this sacred season with community and guidance.... Join the Honored Womb Circle, a live community space where real-time guidance and sacred sisterhood help you live in tune with your cyclical design.
Click here to learn more and join.