Why There Is No “Right” Way to Heal

Perinatal loss carries a particular kind of grief. One that is often quiet, invisible, and profoundly misunderstood. Many people expect grief to move in a straight line: intense sadness at first, followed by gradual “acceptance,” and eventually something resembling closure.

But that’s rarely how it works.

For those who experience miscarriage, stillbirth, or infant loss, grief often comes in waves. There can be moments of steadiness followed by sudden surges activated by a due date that passes, a pregnancy announcement, a memory that arrives out of nowhere, or simply the passage of time. This doesn’t mean you’re “backsliding” or doing grief the wrong way. It means your nervous system is responding to something that matters deeply.

One of the hardest parts of perinatal loss is how lonely it can feel. Because the loss may not be visible to others, people often don’t know what to say — or say things meant to comfort that unintentionally minimize the experience. Comments like “at least you know you can get pregnant” or “everything happens for a reason” can leave people feeling unseen and more alone with their grief.

Another layer many people don’t expect is the coexistence of grief with other emotions. There may be moments of relief, laughter, or even joy, often followed by guilt for feeling anything other than sadness. But grief doesn’t require constant suffering to be valid. It expands and contracts, sometimes holding many emotions at once.

Healing after perinatal loss isn’t about finding closure or “moving on.” It’s about learning how to live alongside the loss and allowing it to take up space without needing to resolve it. For many, that process is gentler and less isolating when it happens in the presence of others who understand, without explanation or comparison.

This is the intention behind Stormy, a monthly perinatal loss group. It’s a space where all emotional weather is welcome, where grief doesn’t need to look a certain way, and where showing up exactly as you are is enough.

If you’re carrying loss and longing for a place where you don’t have to hold it together, you’re not alone.