🌸 When Grief Arrives: My Story of Loss and Healing

Where do I begin? Grief is such a deeply personal experience — one that can feel heavy, isolating, and all-consuming. It’s the ache that settles into your bones when someone or something precious is taken away. It’s the emotional and physical exhaustion that leaves you feeling unanchored.

For me, grief has arrived in the most unexpected and heartbreaking way.

The Journey That Led Here

Many of you know that I recently underwent my third IVF cycle. This time, I approached it differently — with deep self-care, a calmer mindset, and a quiet faith in myself. Though the process moved quickly and not always as planned, I felt grounded and proud of my decision to keep following my heart’s longing.

And then — the moment I had dreamed of — a positive pregnancy test. I cried tears of pure joy. After years of hoping, I was finally pregnant. I told my family, who were cautiously happy for me, and I began to feel the soft, sacred shifts in my body. Every twinge, every wave of nausea felt like proof that life was growing inside me. I was in awe of what my body was creating.

The Call That Changed Everything

Two weeks later, after another blood test, I received the call no one wants to get. My hormone levels were dropping. My first words to the nurse were, “What can I do?” Her reply broke me: “There’s nothing you can do.”

And just like that, my world collapsed.

I was at work when the call came. My body shook as I tried to hold myself together long enough to get home. The days that followed were a blur of physical pain, exhaustion, and uncontrollable tears. I couldn’t make sense of it — how something so deeply wanted could be taken away so soon.

I kept asking why?
Was there something I could have done differently?
How could life be so cruel after all I had endured?

Sitting in the Rawness

The truth is, there’s no easy way through grief. It comes in waves — shock, sadness, disbelief, anger, guilt. I’ve felt them all. I still do.

Vulnerability has never come easily to me, but I’m learning to sit with the pain rather than fight it. To let the tears flow. To nourish my body with comforting food and warm tea. To rest when I need to, and to step into the sunshine when I can — because even the smallest bit of light helps.

Some days, I reach out for support. Other days, I simply hold myself through the silence. Both are okay. Healing doesn’t look one way — it moves gently, quietly, in its own time.

Finding Comfort and Connection

In searching for understanding, I found comfort in the beautiful work of The Pink Elephants Support Network and Fertility Support Australia. Reading stories that mirrored my own reminded me that I am not alone — even when it feels like I am.

This grief is still raw. Some days I can speak about it with calm, and other days it still takes my breath away. But sharing my story feels important — because so many of us walk this path quietly, holding our heartbreak in silence.

A Gentle Reminder

If you’re walking through loss — in whatever form — please know this: you are not alone. You are not broken. You are allowed to grieve, to rest, to rage, to cry. And when you’re ready, you will also rise.

This is where I am right now — somewhere between heartbreak and healing, holding on to the hope that light will find its way back in.

Thank you for hearing my story.
With love,
Dianne x