The Miscarriage Secret I Carried While the World Was Listening “On-Air”

Silence when you work in radio is never a good thing. Silence typically means we’re off the air, missed a cue, or our connection dropped. But one morning during a live show, I learned that silence in radio can also be a form of protection. At least, it was for me.

One morning back in December 2022, I was on-air with my co-hosts on The Fred Show, a nationally syndicated morning radio show that covers pop culture, lifestyle, and all things entertainment. We were doing a segment about all the dumb things we did as kids that most will never get away with today. It was meant to be fun, lighthearted, and nostalgic. Right before we cracked the mic, I went to the restroom like I usually do during our break. And that’s when everything changed.

During my trip to the bathroom, I came face to face with my biggest nightmare: blood. I immediately panicked. There wasn’t much blood, but in my heart, I knew I had every reason to be alarmed. I had constantly googled and watched YouTube videos about bleeding during the first 12 weeks of pregnancy, and at that moment, I was faced with that reality.

Often, I would read about spotting and how normal it was. Some YouTubers and online articles would even go as far as to say that most women experience it in the first 12 weeks of pregnancy. I stared at it for a long time, trying to convince myself that it was nothing. But I knew better. I waited until after the show finished to call my doctor. Because that’s what you do when your job counts on you to be “on.” You don’t let the silence win.

Later that day, I went to my doctor’s appointment. They did blood work that was supposed to determine if I was miscarrying. I had to do blood work daily for the next three days. On day three, I received a message in my telehealth portal confirming my miscarriage. It was gut-wrenching.

For the next several days, I felt like I was living in two completely different realities: one where I showed up to work, on the radio, bubbly and quirky and “on.” And the other, where I would run home after the show, crawl under my blanket, and cry. I felt like my body had failed my baby. I felt like there were things I should’ve done differently to prevent this from happening. I was mad at the world, and I was mad at myself.

I didn’t tell anyone at work. I didn’t really tell many people at all. Just my fiancé, my mom, and my best friend. I didn’t post about it, and I most certainly didn’t talk about it on the radio. It wasn’t because I was ashamed; it was because I felt very protective of myself at that moment. I was so used to sharing my life publicly on the radio and on social media, but this just felt too raw, too public, and way too personal to share. And to be honest, I was nervous about how people would react. I felt like it was still a taboo topic, and I wasn’t ready for that.

So, I carried my secret. I smiled through the pain and went on like nothing happened. I went to work and was always in the best mood and the best spirit. I would talk about celebrities having their babies while my body and my heart were still grieving and healing from the loss of my own. I kept that secret to myself for a year and a half.

Grief can be strange when you live a very public life. You want to be vulnerable, but you can never come off as too vulnerable. People want you to be vulnerable, but they also want you to keep it brand-friendly. They want you to be honest, but don’t make people uncomfortable. You can never win.

I eventually shared my story on Instagram 18 months after the miscarriage. I remember seeing another influencer (shout out to Lissette Calveiro) share her miscarriage story online, and it truly inspired me to share mine. I felt like it was time to speak up and live my truth.

And the response? Insanely overwhelming. I’m not even exaggerating when I say thousands of women reached out to me, from listeners, followers, to estranged childhood friends. It made me realize that I truly wasn’t alone and that speaking up and sharing my story was the best thing I could have done.

If there’s one thing this experience has taught me, it’s that sharing does not make you weak. Sharing has created a space for other women to realize that miscarriages can happen to anyone, even someone they’re listening to on the radio every morning. Radio has always been my connection to others, and for a long time, I thought silence was something I had to fill. But now I know that silence is the space where healing begins.