Understanding Miscarriage Through a Personal Lens: Biology, Emotion, and Healing

 

Miscarriage isn’t something we talk about enough. It’s private, painful, and often brushed aside with silence or well-meaning but unhelpful words. Today, I want to share something deeply personal — my own miscarriage experience. As someone with a background in biology and science education, I thought I’d understand it all. But even knowing what’s happening inside your body doesn’t prepare you for the emotional side of loss.

When it happened to me, I found myself sitting between two worlds. One was clinical and familiar — filled with terms like “spontaneous abortion,” “chromosomal abnormalities,” and “implantation failure.” The other world was messy, raw, and unpredictable — a wave of grief, confusion, and self-doubt I hadn’t anticipated.

I’m sharing this now not because it’s easy, but because I know that someone out there might need it. Maybe it’s a student who wants to understand more about reproduction. Maybe it’s a fellow woman who’s experienced the same quiet heartbreak. Or maybe it’s someone who hasn’t been through it, but wants to better support someone who has.

What Actually Happens During a Miscarriage?

Let’s talk about the biology for a second. Miscarriage, or early pregnancy loss, is when a pregnancy ends before the 20th week. The most common reason? Chromosomal abnormalities. Basically, something goes wrong when the cells divide — there might be too many chromosomes, too few, or an arrangement that the body knows won’t support a healthy life.

From a scientific point of view, it’s the body’s way of recognizing that something’s not developing the way it should. And in many ways, it’s protecting you — because continuing a pregnancy that wouldn’t survive can carry even more risks.

But here’s the thing: knowing that didn’t make me feel better. It gave me context. It gave me a reason. But it didn’t stop me from feeling like I’d failed or that my body had somehow let me down.

The Emotional Toll No One Talks About

There’s something incredibly lonely about miscarriage. You lose something — someone — before you’ve even had the chance to meet them. And because society doesn’t always acknowledge early loss as “real,” you’re left trying to grieve quietly while also questioning whether you even have the right to feel as sad as you do.

For me, it wasn’t just physical. It was emotional. Hormonal. Mental. I found myself second-guessing everything — Did I lift something heavy? Was it the stress? Was I too active?

The truth is, it wasn’t my fault. And if you’ve been through this — it wasn’t yours either.

Why We Need to Talk About It

I teach biology. I work with students. And I create science content that helps explain life and how it works. But life doesn’t always follow the textbook. And I realized that if I’m going to talk about reproduction, pregnancy, and the body, I also need to talk about what happens when things don’t go as planned.

Because science isn’t just facts and diagrams — it’s personal. It affects us. It is us.

That’s why I made this episode. Because someone out there might learn about miscarriage in a classroom one day and feel like they have the tools to understand it. Or maybe they’ll go through it themselves and remember that it’s more common than we think — and that they’re not alone.

Healing Isn’t Linear

There’s no “right” way to grieve. Some days I felt okay. Other days, I didn’t want to get out of bed. I cried over things that didn’t make sense. I felt empty, then numb, then guilty for feeling numb.

And while time has helped, what really made a difference was talking about it. Breaking the silence. Giving myself permission to feel — and to keep moving forward.

So if you’re reading this and you’ve experienced pregnancy loss — I see you. Your grief is valid. Your feelings are real. You’re allowed to mourn what could’ve been.

Final Thoughts: Knowledge and Empathy

I often say that education is empowerment, and I still believe that. Understanding what’s happening in our bodies can give us some sense of peace. But it’s empathy — for ourselves and others — that helps us truly heal.

Miscarriage isn’t just a biological event. It’s a deeply human experience. And I hope that by sharing mine, I can create space for more honesty, more understanding, and more support.

Thank you for being here, for reading, and for allowing me to share something so close to my heart.

If you’ve been through this, or are going through it — you are not alone.