Boston Moms is a free resource written and published by local moms, for local moms. We sometimes include affiliate links within our posts to offset our costs, which means that if you purchase something from a link we share, we may receive a small commission at no additional cost to you. Thank you for supporting the work we are doing to create community in Boston and beyond!

miscarriage - Boston Moms Blog

I remember very clearly the day I inadvertently witnessed someone else’s most personal, agonizing despair from inside the procedure room at my OB-GYN’s office. I was waiting for my own doctor to come in and was already in a vulnerable state of mind staring at the stirrups awaiting me and feeling cold in my paper gown.

While waiting for what seemed like an eternity, I started to hear the most guttural and primal cries and moans coming from one of the other treatment rooms. At first, I figured it was someone in labor, but I soon recognized the cries of intense grief. There was no denying it.

I couldn’t see her. I just felt and heard her grief. I wanted to jump from the table and rush in to comfort her. I started sobbing — taking on her pain as my own. My suspicions were confirmed as my MD finally came in to examine me.

“What happened?” I asked.

She shared with me that a 12-week sonogram had just revealed a miscarriage. That I was there (sort of) to bear witness to such a painful and personal moment felt so strange to me. I could do nothing to help her. I don’t even know who she was or what her story was. Had she been trying for months to get pregnant? Was this her first miscarriage — or one of many heartbreaking incidences. Did she have other children? (Why don’t we talk about this more?)

The MD saw how affected I was by this and spouted some statistics at me — up to 15% of early pregnancies end in miscarriage, blah blah blah. Maybe this was her way of comforting me? But who was comforting this woman? And, honestly, who could possibly comfort her? Is there anything anyone can do to help someone through this kind of pain?

Why was I one of the lucky ones who never had to experience this?

This Mother’s Day, I want to hold space for all the would-be moms — the millions of women who would give anything to be cradling a baby, losing sleep, making curfews, preparing meals, picking up toys, and dealing with any amount of stress just to be a mom. The woman loaning her body to technology via IVF, IUI, and painful shots in the belly, just to conceive or maintain a pregnancy.

As we’re receiving our flowers, reading our cute handmade cards, going out for our Mother’s Day brunches and snuggling with our kids on May 11, let’s honor and acknowledge all the would-be moms out there, as well as all the men and women who have lost their own moms and struggle silently on this holiday amid all the Facebook family photos.

We see you.

We hear you.

We honor you.

We hold you in love and comfort today. And we pray that by next year at this time, you too will be holding your own precious baby and hearing the words “Happy Mother’s Day” for the first time in maybe years with peace in your heart.

Jenny Berk
Jenny is a crass and pushy (read = sweet) native New Yorker who has always had a penchant for New England, after attending Brandeis for 4 years, but especially so after meeting her husband Barry, who also happened to live in Boston. After marrying, and creating 3 awesome daughters - ages, 11, 8 and 6 - she and her husband moved to Needham and love it there! Jenny is a Certified Eating Psychology Coach, Mindful Eating Instructor and Wellness blogger. She loves writing about how Mom's can navigate and prioritize their health and positive body image after having children. When she's not trying to figure out how the heck to parent a tween, She can be found blogging at the Huffington Post, (healthy living section) and on her site Heck yes! - mindfulness, kettlebells, body acceptance, yoga, traveling the word and eating decadent and unctuous (vegetarian) food. No way, man! - arthritis at 40, allergies to anything, animal cruelty, waiting in line.


  1. I’m crying right now as I hold my sleeping 4 month old on my lap.

    I’ve been a version of the grieving woman. My first pregnancy ended in miscarriage and I had to have a D&C. One of the worst months of my life. It triggered a major depression that I was thankfully able to overcome with medication & therapy.

    I’m also a success story celebrating my first Mother’s Day this Sunday.

    I hope all that want a child get to be “success stories” too.

    And yes! Why don’t we talk about miscarriage and associated grief more?! It’s real!

  2. Danielle, thank you so much for sharing your experience. I am so happy that you have a beautiful baby to hold and care for after such an arduous and painful journey. xoxo

Comments are closed.