Emotional Honesty

 Ep. 066 with Shruti Trivedi

In a warm, honest episode of the Good Grief Believer podcast, host Julie Craig speaks with Shruti Trivedi — a former IT professional who became a certified life coach after experiencing profound perinatal loss.

A life redirected by sorrow and searching for meaning

Shruti’s journey did not begin in a grief clinic; it began in an office cubicle and at a family dinner table. After more than a decade working in IT, the pandemic nudged her to ask what mattered most. She pursued psychology and, after being steered by a compassionate therapist, found life coaching. That vocational turn was rooted in something deeper: the pain of three pregnancies that ended in loss alongside three living children who bring daily joy. Her coaching practice, Tulsi Heals, now grows out of both her professional training and the tender soil of maternal sorrow.

For many readers searching “perinatal grief support” or “coping with miscarriage,” Shruti’s story offers a humane and searchable path: practical training, lived experience, and a willingness to speak about the hard things that so often remain private.

The raw reality of early and late loss

Shruti speaks plainly about the moments that reshaped her. One loss arrived on a day she planned to announce a pregnancy — a missed miscarriage discovered at nine weeks. Later, after joy at conceiving identical twins, she endured complications: twin‑to‑twin transfusion, fetal surgery, a ruptured membrane, and premature labor at 23 weeks. She held her boys in a quiet, heartbreaking hour before they died. These are not abstract tragedies; they are tactile memories — the sound of footsteps in a hospital hallway, the sting of a bandage, the shock of producing milk when there is no baby to nurse.

When people search “stillbirth resources,” “miscarriage coping,” or “what to expect after perinatal loss,” Shruti’s unvarnished narrative helps others feel seen: the confusion, the medical complexity, the small humiliations and the fierce maternal love that persists despite grief’s cruelty.

Busyness, avoidance, and the cost of “moving on”

For a long stretch, Shruti coped by doing: she threw herself into work, asked to be kept busy, and believed that distraction would somehow reframe sorrow. Family rallied around her, but cultural expectations — “keep a brave face,” “don’t cry in front of the children” — encouraged suppression. In time, avoidance revealed itself as an unkind strategy: sudden waves of crying in a meeting, anniversary triggers, intrusive memories, and physical echoes like unexpected lactation. Shruti learned the hard truth many who search “how to cope after miscarriage” discover: grief that is boxed up tends to leak into body and mind.

The Three A’s: a simple, faithful roadmap

Therapy shifted the shape of Shruti’s life. Initially skeptical, she found counseling did not erase her babies but taught her how to live with the ache. From that work she formed a gently practical framework she now shares with grieving parents: the Three A’s — Acknowledge, Accept, Address.

• Acknowledge: Speak the loss aloud. Name the pregnancies, the babies, the dates. Let the truth of what happened be witnessed.
• Accept: Permit the pain to exist without forcing a premature solution. Acceptance is not surrender but the honest reception of reality, often aided by prayer and quiet reflection.
• Address: Take practical steps — grief counseling, EMDR for trauma symptoms, support groups, rituals, or coaching — to process pain and restore safe functioning.

Shruti’s own therapy included EMDR when PTSD-like symptoms surfaced during her husband’s later hospitalization. She describes how ambulance sirens once froze her on the highway; therapy helped desensitize that alarm and restore a sense of safety. For people googling “trauma therapy after loss” or “EMDR for grief,” her example is a hopeful demonstration that targeted care brings real relief.

How grief ripples through family life

Grief never occurs in a vacuum. Shruti traces its subtle effects on children and on marriage. Her eldest, only two at the first loss, matured into a compassionate daughter who later crafted initials on birthday cakes to honor her lost siblings. Her middle child developed anxiety around separations after hospitalizations and needed reassurance and space to ask questions. Shruti confesses moments of parental impatience — scolding a frightened toddler — and the repair work that followed. This honesty is valuable for parents searching “how to talk to children about miscarriage”: children notice absence and need simple, age-appropriate explanations and invitations to remember.

She also names a cultural truth about men’s grief: many fathers feel pressure to be stoic and “be strong” for the family. Shruti’s husband wept privately, then returned to quiet support. She urges that fathers be given permission to grieve, to be vulnerable, and to access help without shame. Whole-family grief support matters for long-term healing.

Rituals, memory, and the Tulsi that keeps growing

Tiny rituals become anchors: Shruti named her babies, planted two Tulsi (holy basil) plants in their memory, and stitched small yearly observances into family life. Tulsi Heals — her coaching brand — carries that living memorial forward: two leaves on the logo to honor twin sons. She shares a startling, tender moment when her youngest briefly carried two identical stuffed pandas and called them his brothers, pointing to the sky when asked where he’d met them. Such moments — whether called spiritual signs, consolations, or children’s imaginations — gave Shruti a sense that love persists and that memory may bridge seen and unseen worlds.

Readers searching “memorial ideas after miscarriage” will find practical, comforting inspiration here: plant a memorial herb, name and tell the story, or create a small ritual to include on birthdays and anniversaries.

From private pain to public purpose

The quiet miracle of Shruti’s story is vocation. She translated private heartbreak into public ministry by becoming a life coach focused on grief and mental health. She offers free introductory calls, customized coaching, and social media content aimed at normalizing therapy and removing stigma. For those seeking “grief coach for parents” or “perinatal loss coaching,” Tulsi Heals is a lived-out example of how sorrow can be reshaped into service.

Practical steps for grieving well

Throughout the conversation Shruti and Julie name practical, searchable actions:

• Get help early — therapy and trauma-informed care can prevent chronic complications.
• Speak the names of the lost babies; silence leaves space for shame and confusion.
• Offer concrete help to grieving neighbors — meals, childcare, specific offers rather than vague “let me know.”
• Include children in honest, age-appropriate conversations and memorial practices.
• Create small yearly rituals — planting, cake initials, a candle, or a quiet prayer — to keep memory alive.

These are the kinds of grief support resources that people often search for when they are hurting; Shruti’s voice turns abstract recommendations into doable, loving steps.

A mother’s final invitation: grieve with courage, find peace

Shruti’s faith colors her grief with hope: she does not pretend sorrow vanishes, but she has found peace by letting grief be a companion, not a jailer. Her guiding counsel — Acknowledge, Accept, Address — is practical, prayerful, and tender. She invites other parents to measure healing not by forgetting but by learning to live with memory, to honor lost children, and to turn heartache into service for others.

If you are searching for “miscarriage support,” “stillbirth resources,” or “how to cope after pregnancy loss,” Shruti’s story is a luminous example: therapy helps, rituals soothe, family conversation heals, and compassionate purpose restores meaning. In the soft light of her Tulsi plants, grief and hope can take turns guiding the heart — and a mother’s faith can become the steady hand that helps others find their way home.