"It was a July morning that began as ordinarily as any other day: Make breakfast. Feed the dogs. Take vitamins. Find that missing sock. Pick up the rogue crayon that rolled under the table. Throw my hair in a ponytail before getting my son from his crib," she wrote.
"After changing his diaper, I felt a sharp cramp. I dropped to the floor with him in my arms, humming a lullaby to keep us both calm, the cheerful tune a stark contrast to my sense that something was not right.
"I knew, as I clutched my firstborn child, that I was losing my second."
She wrote of lying in a hospital bed and holding Prince Harry's hand while recalling their trip to South Africa.
"I felt the clamminess of his palm and kissed his knuckles, wet from both our tears. Staring at the cold white walls, my eyes glazed over. I tried to imagine how we'd heal," she said.
"I recalled a moment last year when Harry and I were finishing up a long tour in South Africa. I was exhausted. I was breastfeeding our infant son, and I was trying to keep a brave face in the very public eye."
Meghan and Prince Harry married in May 2018 and are parents to Archie, who was born in May 2019.
They famously left the royal family in January 2020 and have been living in California during the coronavirus pandemic.
In the article Meghan wrote of how ITV journalist Tom Bradby asked her if she was OK, and she "answered him honestly, not knowing that what I said would resonate with so many — new moms and older ones, and anyone who had, in their own way, been silently suffering."
"My off-the-cuff reply seemed to give people permission to speak their truth. But it wasn't responding honestly that helped me most, it was the question itself."
"Thank you for asking," I said. "Not many people have asked if I'm OK."
She spoke of the devastation of 2020 for many including through the coronavirus pandemic and Black Lives Matter movement, after the deaths of George Floyd and Breonna Taylor.
The Duchess also wrote of how "losing a child means carrying an almost unbearable grief, experienced by many but talked about by few."
"In the pain of our loss, my husband and I discovered that in a room of 100 women, 10 to 20 of them will have suffered from miscarriage. Yet despite the staggering commonality of this pain, the conversation remains taboo, riddled with (unwarranted) shame, and perpetuating a cycle of solitary mourning."
"Some have bravely shared their stories; they have opened the door, knowing that when one person speaks truth, it gives license for all of us to do the same.
"We have learned that when people ask how any of us are doing, and when they really listen to the answer, with an open heart and mind, the load of grief often becomes lighter — for all of us. In being invited to share our pain, together we take the first steps toward healing."