Miscarriage is one of the most common forms of grief couples face, yet the emotional impact on men is still rarely named. The men I sit with in the therapy space often describe the same three experiences: overwhelmed, numb, confused. They’re trying to be the strong one, and falling apart quietly inside. They want to support their partner, but they don’t know how. And most haven’t had a single place where their grief is allowed to exist.

For many men, the pressure starts early. It's messages like, be strong. Provide. Don't fall apart.So when loss hits, it feels like there’s no socially acceptable way to process it.

The Hidden Grief Men Carry

What’s often misunderstood is that silence isn’t evidence that a man “isn’t feeling much.” In my office, silence usually tells me the opposite. It tells me he’s deep in his feelings and doesn’t have the words yet. It tells me he’s trying to hold it together and he’s terrified of making things worse. He'll tell me he doesn't bring up to with his wife, because he doesn't want to burden her more.

Many men describe having “too many feelings” rather than not enough. They can access anger because it’s familiar, but the sadness, helplessness, and fear stand just offstage, waiting for permission to be acknowledged. I often find myself explaining to my female clients that, It’s not that he don’t care. It’s that they’ve never been taught how to name what’s happening inside.

When Partners Misread Each Other

One of the most painful dynamics in couples after a miscarriage is the misunderstanding that happens in both directions:

• Partners often interpret a man’s quietness as emotional distance.
• Men worry that talking about their feelings will “cause” more sadness for their partner.

The sadness is already there. Naming it doesn’t create it, rather it validates it.

Sometimes I’ll invite partners to start with a simple template:
“I feel angry when I think ______.”
‍

Or I’ll ask both people to share this thought with one another:
“I can’t stop thinking about ______. What comes up for you?”

Open-ended questions paired with vulnerability create connection. Not pressure.

The High-Achiever Trap

For high achievers, grief feels especially inconvenient. It slows things down, interrupts routines, and demands emotional presence — all things they’ve become skilled at avoiding. When you’re used to suppressing emotion to keep moving, grief feels like failure.

Men often tell me:

• “I’m failing my partner.”
• “I don’t have time to grieve.”
• “Where do I even begin?”

They believe they should know what to do, even though no one has ever taught them what grief actually asks from them.

What Men Actually Need

What men often need most is surprisingly simple — a person who can listen without judging their quietness or their intensity. Someone who tells them it’s okay to not be strong, and that their vulnerability isn’t weakness but evidence that this loss meant something.

Numbing and suppressing don’t protect them. They quietly fuel disconnection and depression.

Anchors Matter More Than Perfection

Grief rituals have become more visible, and that’s a step forward. But many men don’t have the circles, friendships, or language to talk through their grief.

That’s why I talk about anchors — tiny grounding points in the day that keep you connected to yourself and your partner:

• A two-minute check-in in the morning
• A shared cup of coffee
• A short walk together
• Making the bed
• Sending a quick message that says “I’m thinking of you” mid morning
• Pausing 2–3 times a day to ask, “How am I actually feeling right now?”

These small practices don’t fix the loss. They help you hold it without getting lost in it.

There is no perfect way to grieve. There is no single timeline. Some days will be heavier. Some will feel unexpectedly okay. Accessing support early doesn’t erase grief, but it can prevent the emotional whiplash that often follows months of silence.

A Message to Men Navigating Miscarriage

If I could say one thing to you sitting across the therapy room, it would be this:

Grief doesn’t need you to be strong — it needs you to be anchored.

You’re allowed to have your own experience of this loss.
You’re allowed to talk about it before you have the perfect words.
You’re allowed to feel more than one thing at once.
And you’re allowed to ask for support.

Your partner isn’t looking for strength without emotion.
They’re looking for you — the full, feeling version of you — to show up in whatever honest way you can.

You don’t have to carry this alone.

‍

Some seasons of life are heavy; you don’t have to hold it alone. If you’re feeling overwhelmed, disconnected, or unsure how to support your partner after loss, the right support can make a difference.Take the first step. Book a discovery call and let’s talk about what you need now.

‍

‍

‍

‍

‍

‍

‍

Photo by Majestic Lukas on Unsplash