Free guide · For the woman who lost a baby
and still has to go to work on Monday
For the conversations you can’t get out of.
The Safety Scripts — gentle, ready-made words for the moments your own words are gone.
Free. Arrives in about a minute. 🕊️
The explanation tax
You already know which conversation you’re dreading.
Maybe it’s Sunday dinner. Maybe it’s the group chat that won’t stop chiming. Maybe it’s the coworker who’s going to stop by your desk on Monday and ask, cheerfully, how your weekend was.
And you’ve already rehearsed it. Six versions of one sentence, and none of them are right — because the true one makes people uncomfortable, the easy one is a lie, and either way you end up comforting them.
That’s the explanation tax. You’ve been paying it since the day you lost your baby, and nobody has said out loud that you’re allowed to stop.
So I’m saying it.
What’s inside
Words you can borrow until your own come back.
You don’t have to memorise them. You don’t have to say them perfectly. You just have to have something in your mouth other than “I’m fine.”
- ›What to say when someone asks if you’re going to try again
- ›What to say to “at least it was early”
- ›The pregnancy announcement you didn’t see coming
- ›When someone asks how you’re doing and you can’t say “fine” one more time
- ›The person who means well and keeps bringing it up
- ›The friend who’s gone quiet and doesn’t know what to say
- ›The one nobody hands you: what to say to yourself on the days you’re sure it was your fault
- ›Text-message versions of all of it, for the days you can’t speak at all
What it isn’t
- Not comebacks. The people asking are your sister and your boss, not your enemies.
- Not about cutting anyone off.
- Not a requirement to tell the whole truth. You choose how much you hand over.
- No timeline. Nothing in here assumes you should be further along than you are.
Who’s writing to you
I’m Natalie.
My first pregnancy ended in miscarriage. I call that baby Blue.
Not long after, I was telling my mom how sad I was. And she said, “God has a reason.”
I knew exactly where it came from. She lost a baby too, and her faith is what she leaned on to carry it. She was handing me the thing that had saved her.
It still hurt. What I remember thinking, underneath, was: how could God be so mean?
I didn’t say that out loud. I didn’t say anything at all. I went quiet — because anything I said would only have kept the conversation going.
That silence is where these came from. Not the perfect answer. Just something you can say that lets it end.
I’ve been pregnant three times since that loss. Every one of them carried the same quiet question underneath: am I going to lose this one too. I have three living children now, and I still carry Blue.
I’m not here to tell you how your story ends. Nobody can. I’m here to hand you the words I didn’t have.
Get the guide
Send me the Safety Scripts.
And if your loss was early — you belong here. It counted. 🤍
I’ll never send you bump photos, pregnancy announcements, or “try again” pep talks. Leave whenever you need to — you don’t owe me a reason.
“I don’t want to be the difficult one.”
I know. That’s the part that keeps most of us quiet — not the grief. The fear of being the person who made it awkward.
Here’s what took me too long to learn: protecting your energy is not the same as punishing theirs. You can love someone and still not hand them the whole story.
That’s what these are for.
Send me the Safety Scripts