A Grief That Lives In My Bones
Reflections on the book "I Had A Miscarriage" by one of my favorite authors (& amazing humans!) Dr. Jessica Zucker & the power of speaking our truth as detailed in her new book "Normalize It"
I’ve spent the last few years learning that there are some stories our bodies remember, even when our minds try to forget. Stories that live just beneath the skin, surfacing when we least expect them - during a quiet moment, a doctor’s visit, a stranger’s offhand comment, or in the pages of a book written by someone who gets it.
That’s what happened to me when I first read I Had a Miscarriage by Dr. Jessica Zucker. The book had been gifted to me shortly after I delivered the twins at just 12 weeks gestation - far too little to survive.
Within its pages, I found details of my story reflected back at me in a way I hadn’t been able to find online. I felt seen. I felt validated. I felt less alone.
When I read I Had a Miscarriage, I felt like Jessica had cracked open the silence that so many of us have lived in for far too long. Her prose is visceral, sharp, unapologetically honest, and above all else, deeply validating.
In her words, I saw not just my grief, but my rage. My confusion. My isolation. My deep, relentless longing.
And it felt justified. And necessary. And like I had now joined a community of people who apparently, it turns out, felt just like I was feeling.
When Jessica writes “Sixteen weeks into my second pregnancy, I miscarried at home, alone. Suddenly, my career, spent specializing in reproductive and maternal mental health, was rendered corporeal, no longer just theoretical.”
That line knocked the breath out of me. I didn’t need to imagine what she was writing about. I had lived it. Alone. In my bathroom. Delivering my twins at just twelve weeks.
No one prepares you for what it feels like to hold two tiny bodies in your hands, to watch as one became lifeless beside one who already was. No one teaches you how to breathe through that kind of pain. Or how to clean yourself up afterward.
Or how to reenter a world that keeps spinning, even when yours has stopped.
Jessica speaks not just to the event of miscarriage, but to the aftermath.
The erasure.
The medical gaslighting.
The way so many of us are left to stitch our grief together in silence, in the shadows.
She gives voice to the “club no one wants to be a part of,” and in doing so, she offers community where so many of us have only known loneliness.
My experience with infertility, IVF, and loss has been deeply layered, often traumatic, and incredibly lonely. I’ve written before about delivering the twins in the bathroom in the middle of the night, how it felt like something out of a horror film, only it was my real life, and there was no one there to help me. I can still see their tiny forms. I will forever feel the weight of that moment pressing into my chest.
My favorite part of I Had A Miscarrraige? Jessica doesn’t offer solutions or silver linings. And thank God for that. What she offers instead is truth. Permission. Language for pain that has so often felt unspeakable.
She writes, “One of the most insufferable and surprising parts of grief is that one moment we can’t stand to feel our sadness for another second, and the next we are scared of ever losing the intensity of that feeling. That somehow the passage of time, and the eventual lessening of the sting, is an affront to the memory of the one we lost.”
If you’ve lost a pregnancy, you know this to be true. It’s the push and pull of healing, wanting the pain to ease but fearing that its dulling edge means your love, your memory, might fade with it.
I’m still somewhat afraid of this, even after all this time has passed.
Now, in present day, Jessica is continuing this vital conversation with her newest book, Normalize It, being released April 22nd. From what I’ve seen, it expands her mission of unflinching honesty and radical empathy - spotlighting the stories we’ve been told to hide, the ones we’ve internalized as shameful. It’s a rally cry to reclaim our narratives, to speak loudly and unapologetically about our lived experiences.
Her work makes me feel less alone.
Less broken.
It reminds me that my story matters - even the parts I’ve tried so hard to forget.
Honestly, this book and the way it made me feel more than three and a half years ago became the foundation for why I started writing my own memoir. I wanted others to find themselves reflected in words the way I did when I read I Had a Miscarriage. I wanted them to have something to hold onto in the aftermath of grief, to help name the feelings that rise up without warning, that echo in the body and lodge themselves in the heart. And I wanted the people who love them to have something tangible to gift, or to read, in hopes of better understanding the ones who are hurting. (Said manuscript is currently in the editing stages 🙌🏻)
If you’ve been through something similar - if you’ve lost a pregnancy, or a dream, or a version of yourself along the way - I want you to know this space here is for you.
Your grief doesn’t need to be justified.
It doesn’t need permission.
It doesn’t need to be quiet.
It deserves to be honored.
Seen.
Spoken aloud.
And maybe, just maybe, as more of us tell the truth about what we’ve lived through, we can normalize it - not just the experience of loss, but the deep humanity within it.
You are not alone. And you never were.
Have you read Jessica’s work or experienced pregnancy loss? I’d love to hold space for your story in the comments or via email. We were never meant to carry this alone.
Also, if any of this resonates, I can’t recommend enough that you order Normalize It by Dr. Jessica Zucker on Amazon now (it comes out on Tuesday!!!) - you won’t regret it.
Books are powerful! Thanks for sharing it.
Love reflections on works that have stuck across years, momentous life changes, or otherwise. Thank you for your vulnerability and confidence.