“I had four losses in the span of one year.” Diya Eggleston “My sister-in-law had four. I didn’t know. It was just, you don’t talk about it, and I think that is not helpful to the women who are going through it.” Lucy Sajdak “I will never be over the loss of that baby.” Emma De Jesus Opinion You know someone who’s had a miscarriage. Probably many such people. Maybe your grandmother had one. Your colleague at work. The barista you see every morning. As many as 15 percent of known pregnancies end in miscarriage. That amounts to hundreds of thousands of miscarriages in America each year.

You probably haven’t heard many of those stories, however, and you might not have shared your own. Many of the reasons for that silence are understandable — most miscarriages happen early, and it can be awkward to announce a pregnancy after it has already ended. Plus, some women simply don’t want to broadcast intimate information about their efforts to have a child. But there are other forces at work: a society that sees women’s bodies as shameful and that blames them, even criminalizes them, for pregnancies gone wrong. Policies that punish women for getting pregnant at all. Widespread ignorance about human reproduction. A health care industry that too often fails women, especially women of color. And a general unwillingness to grapple with complex emotions, like debilitating grief over the loss of a microscopic embryo — or a tinge of relief at the loss of a 16-week fetus.

Miscarrying at nine weeks, I didn’t feel entitled to the absolute devastation I felt. I was not able to attempt getting pregnant again; I didn’t have the fortitude to risk that horrific pain a second time.” Cindy Harkin

This was the ‘me too’ moment of my life. I have had several miscarriages, all very early, and the number of women who said ‘me too’ was staggering. It is just not spoken about.” Molly W.

If it were men who went through this horrible emotional trauma, would insurance not cover them going to the hospital — perhaps to a special ward? — where their hands would be held, their discomfort alleviated, their grief recognized and listened to?” Carol D.

As a result, when a miscarriage happens to you, many aspects of the experience can come as a shock. That’s what we heard over and over again from the more than 500 people who shared their miscarriage stories with The Times. How did I not know this could happen to me? Why didn’t anyone tell me what it would be like? We heard from straight women, from male partners and from same-sex couples. From people in every corner of the United States and in at least a dozen other countries. From women who had miscarriages in the 1960s and ’70s and women who were miscarrying at the very moment that they were writing to us. From women who had one miscarriage and never got pregnant again and from women who had five or a dozen miscarriages and went on to have children.

I wish I had prepared myself for how hard it would be to continue talking with my wife about her own pregnancy attempts immediately after I lost my pregnancy.” Sara Haack

As the husband of a woman who miscarried, I wish there was more information for people like me to support my child’s mother.” Michael Lewis

My first pregnancy ended in miscarriage in May 1970 before abortion was legal. I had been pregnant for three months. When it became evident that the pregnancy was no longer viable, I was told by my obstetrician that there was nothing else he could do and that I would just have to go home and wait until I went into labor. When labor began, I went to the hospital, as I was instructed to do, and I was given very little other information about what to expect. My husband was not allowed to be at my bedside, and I spent long lonely hours through the night bleeding heavily until I was taken into surgery to have a D&C.” Elaine B.

What these women and families had in common was a desire, sometimes even desperation, to talk about what happened to them. Miscarriage might just be the loneliest experience that millions of women have faced. So let’s get it out in the open. To start, what does a miscarriage really feel like? Despite how they’re portrayed in movies, miscarriages can involve a lot more than a rivulet of blood. There are clots, sometimes the size of golf balls. There are cramps that feel more like labor contractions — an upsetting reminder, perhaps, of the birth one will not have. The process can go on for weeks, even months, leaving women in a strange purgatory between pregnant and not.

I felt like my body was a walking tomb.” Emma De Jesus

I wish I had known how massively traumatic it could be. I was essentially in labor for 12 hours ... I think there should be miscarriage midwives.” Jenna P.

There is no safe zone. It is not always obvious. Sometimes you feel you’re safe being 19.5 weeks and go into a normal OB appointment to find out your daughter’s heart has stopped.” Kimberlee Budinger

I was lying in bed and my water broke, and there was a ton broke, and there was a ton of blood. And you don’t have to be of blood. And you don’t have to be a medical professional to know a medical professional to know that at 16 weeks if that happens, that at 16 weeks if that happens, it’s not good.” it’s not good.” Molly Worthen at home in Carrboro, N.C. Ms. Worthen lost her second pregnancy in 2018. How silently it happens. For me, the only signal was For me, the only signal was that my morning sickness that my morning sickness decreased.” decreased.” Shubha Tewari, a senior lecturer in physics at the University of Massachusetts Amherst, miscarried during her second pregnancy. We went to the ER, and we were told that the baby no longer were told that the baby no longer had a heartbeat. And in had a heartbeat. And in that moment, I felt like mine that moment, I felt like mine had stopped as well.” had stopped as well.” Emma De Jesus at home in Boston with her husband, Ramon, and their son. Ms. De Jesus had two miscarriages before giving birth this July. Since it’s such a taboo subject, we went into building subject, we went into building our family blind to the our family blind to the possibility of hearing ‘sorry, possibility of hearing ‘sorry, there’s no heartbeat.’” there’s no heartbeat.’” Jihan Donawa Gibson and her husband, Travis Gibson, at home in Jacksonville, Fla. Ms. Donawa Gibson miscarried earlier this year. I surprised myself by finding that I felt quite angry — at first that I felt quite angry — at first with my body and later with with my body and later with other people, where it seemed like other people, where it seemed like they had it easier than I did.” they had it easier than I did.” Diya Eggleston placed four stones, to honor each of her lost pregnancies, under a tree in a cemetery in Washington, D.C. She is expecting a child in January.

Just as cruel is when there are no physical signs of miscarriage. When you’re going about your life between checkups, assuming all is normal, assuming new life is growing inside of you. These “missed miscarriages” can make women distrust their bodies. In the few seconds it takes to receive a diagnosis, it can feel like your body shifts from a garden to a graveyard. If you end up undergoing a D&C — a surgical procedure to remove the pregnancy material — your uterus might feel distinctly hollow afterward, a visceral reminder of your loss. For some, the emotional fallout from a miscarriage can eclipse the physical experience. Some women find themselves grieving their lost pregnancies decades after the fact. Others feel overwhelming guilt at what they might have done “wrong.” Even if you studiously avoid the long list of foods and activities that pregnant women are warned against, miscarriage can happen. Many losses are caused by chromosomal abnormalities that can’t be prevented or controlled.

For years after (and even today to some extent) I felt like a complete failure. I couldn’t even protect my unborn baby. I wasn’t able to do what millions of women are able to do.” Tracy P.

Up to that point in my life, I would put in the work, do what I had to and for the most part see results. It was the first time where I felt I had very little control over the process.” Lalai

I had a D&C with my miscarriage. When I was coming out of anesthesia, my first thought was, ‘I’m not pregnant anymore.’ As I sobbed, a nurse came into the recovery room to tell me my insurance was only covering $400 of the procedure, the outpatient max … In that moment, where I was overcome with the grief of realizing it was all truly over, I also had to process the prospect of being on the hook for $10,000, for a pregnancy that didn’t happen.” Marla C.

Everyone will tell you it’s not your fault, that these things just happen. But even when you know that’s true, it can be hard to feel it, hard to live with the not knowing. It can be difficult to even hope that you might get pregnant again; and if you do, those pregnancies can be anxiety-ridden. It doesn’t help that the vernacular of pregnancy and miscarriage leaves much to be desired. Geriatric mother, blighted ovum, incompetent cervix. Who comes up with this stuff? Other women find themselves grateful, if not for the experience of miscarrying, then for the fact that they’re no longer pregnant. Because miscarriages so often occur because of genetic complications, miscarrying can feel like a sign of your body’s wisdom, that it has acted quickly to end a pregnancy that wouldn’t have been viable, making way for what’s next. Some women find themselves thinking, years later: If it weren’t for my miscarriage, I never would have had my son or my daughter.

I wish my doctor hadn’t assumed I wanted the baby just because I was married. I wish she hadn’t shown any reaction when I told her I was relieved that I wasn’t pregnant anymore.” Lisa T.

I also came to hate the term miscarriage, because it inherently lays blame on the mother for ‘badly carrying’ the fetus … I chose afterward to call it a failed pregnancy.” Jennifer S.

I found myself completely unaware of how to talk about my loss in a socially acceptable way.” Anna Floch Arcello

As a Catholic theologian, it is even more difficult because strangely, there is no ritual or sacrament for miscarriage.” Heidi Busse

The underlying tragedy here, amid the individual heartaches, is that so many women go through these experiences alone. Or when they do open up, the reactions of others make them regret it. In fairness, there is no playbook for this sort of thing. But pressure to produce grandchildren or to manage other people’s emotions can leave little room for families who’ve experienced a miscarriage to process it all. Friendships crumble. Marriages fall apart.

An OB/GYN “compared me to a dog and how they often have multiple puppies and lose one or two along the way.” Sarah Crawford

I felt a little overwhelmed by managing other people’s grief.” Emily Rook-Koepsel

A woman at work yelled at me because I had announced my pregnancy and then my miscarriage. She said it was cruel of me to put them through that.” Paula Lee

I wish there was some way to shield me from the constant reminders of the pregnancy that is no longer. Receiving emails about pregnancy, automated reminder phone calls for doctor appointments no longer needed, invitations to christenings.” Jennifer V.

Then there’s the workplace, its own special hell for women who’ve miscarried. It’s awkward enough trying to hide a pregnancy, and all its side effects, in those tumultuous early weeks. How are you then supposed to explain why you need time off to heal or to grieve? And what if you don’t get sick days at all, or your job requires manual labor? Maybe you’re worried about being “mommy-tracked” — or worse — if your boss finds out you’re trying to have a baby. Even being in the same room as your colleagues as they chatter obliviously about their children’s lives can be excruciating. If you lose a pregnancy in the second or third trimester, this all becomes that much more harrowing.

During my miscarriage, I returned to work two days after my initial collapse, still miscarrying.” Christina Y.

If pregnancy in general was not still so detrimental to one’s career maybe we could be more open about failed pregnancies.” Kateri S.

Though it might not help much at work, there seems to be a growing number of women eschewing the so-called 12-week rule — the period during which doctors have traditionally told families to keep their pregnancy news a secret, given the risk of miscarriage in the first trimester. But perhaps a more useful framework would be: If you were to lose your pregnancy, who would you want to know about it? Who would you want to be there to support you? Maybe entrusting the people on that list with one’s news — however long or short the list may be — would help women feel less isolated.

If we don’t share our stories and if we think of such a common occurrence as taboo, we are only alienating other women who may also miscarry, and we will continue an unhealthy cycle for a natural human occurrence.” Sheila K.

Perhaps the experience would be less difficult were it not considered socially acceptable to inquire about a woman’s fertility plans in casual conversation. Because you never ever know.” Susan G.

Though I did not carry my baby to term, I still labored and delivered my baby. My baby came into this world surrounded by love.” Emily M.

There’s nothing shameful about having a miscarriage. So what if we stopped acting that way, in defiance of all the forces that have shaped our perceptions? We might not be able to change how society handles miscarriage overnight. But even opening up to a few new people can be healing for you, and possibly also for them. You might be surprised how many people you know have walked in the same shoes.