Honouring the Tiny Lives That Changed Everything: A Doula’s Reflection on Pregnancy and Infant Loss

There are moments in this work that live deep in my bones — moments that shift something inside me and stay, long after the space has been tidied and the candles have burned out. As doulas, we are invited into the most intimate corners of life: the first breaths, the last goodbyes, and sometimes, the heartbreaking space in between — the one where joy and grief collide in a single breath.

Pregnancy and infant loss is not a rare occurrence, though it is still so often spoken about in whispers. It can happen at any stage, in any family, in any circumstance — and when it does, it leaves a mark that time does not erase. These are not “small” losses. They are love stories with chapters left unwritten. They are dreams carried close but never cradled in arms. They are names spoken softly into the dark, love felt in every heartbeat, no matter how fleeting.

As a doula, I’ve learned that my role is not to fix what cannot be fixed. It is to hold.
To hold space for the grief, the rage, the emptiness.
To hold the memory of the tiny life that was deeply loved.
To hold the sacredness of the story — even when the ending is not what anyone imagined.

It’s easy to think of doulas only in the context of joy: the rush of a first cry, the warm weight of a newborn, the tears of relief and wonder. But full-spectrum care means something much deeper. It means walking with families when the silence is deafening. It means being a steady presence in the room where no one knows what to say. It means understanding that parenthood is not defined solely by the moments we can hold in our arms — but also by the ones that live forever in our hearts.

Grief and love are woven from the same threads.
And when loss happens, those threads are tangled together — raw, complicated, and deeply human.

As doulas — in both birth and death care — we are called to stand beside families in that tangle. To speak their baby’s name. To bear witness to their story. To validate their mourning, to make space for their anger, their confusion, their numbness. And to gently remind them, over and over, that they are not alone.

Sometimes this looks like sitting quietly and simply being.
Sometimes it’s helping to create rituals that honour and remember — a name written in the sand, a candle lit every year on the same day, a memory box lovingly filled.
Sometimes it’s just whispering the words they need most: “Your baby mattered. Your love is real. Your grief is sacred.”

Pregnancy and infant loss awareness isn’t just about a single day or month — it’s about continuing to speak these truths out loud. It’s about dismantling the silence that so often surrounds these experiences. And it’s about reminding the world that a life, no matter how brief, holds infinite meaning.

This is the heart of doula work to me.
It is bearing witness to both beginnings and endings.
It is lighting candles where joy once bloomed.
It is standing with families in their darkest nights and holding hope gently, without rushing their healing.

If you are someone who has experienced this kind of loss, I want you to know that your story matters. Your baby’s story matters. And even in the quietest corners of grief, you are not walking this path alone.

Amy Silva, Founder of The Collaborative Doula Collective