My Miscarriage Story - In Hopes It Helps Others Feel Less Alone

I love this photo here because I’m about seven weeks pregnant. Forever a memory of this tiny babe.

I love this photo here because I’m about seven weeks pregnant. Forever a memory of this tiny babe.

Two days before Christmas I had a miscarriage. I was about nine weeks along and the weird thing about it all was, that I had to make the decision when and how I’d like to miscarry because the baby wouldn’t come out of me on its own. Miscarriage is a gruesome thing that not many choose to talk about. Oddly enough, it has happened to so many of us. You’d think it would come up a ton more. I think a lot of times it can be too painful to disclose or maybe some feel they don’t want to talk about their loss when so many it seems are happily pregnant around them. I’ll back up here and share with you our entire story. I hope that whoever reads this finds comfort in the sheer fact that they are not alone. Having a miscarriage is a nasty, twisted thing and no woman should ever feel they are alone while going through it. I’m here if you need me, ironically feeling thankful for this miscarriage because it has now allowed me to open up and share with those that perhaps need to hear. Also, to share with those that need to feel solidarity with another sister who has experienced this kind of loss.

Earlier this year Dan and I made the decision to start trying for our third baby. We decided to start actively trying come October of last year. Making that decision to start trying for another baby initially is so exciting and albeit romantic. I remember before we had Mila, I had wanted another baby so badly but Dan just wasn’t ready. When he told me he was finally ready, I cried with happiness. I swear that night was some of the best sex we’d ever had. Not because it could have made a baby (it didn’t) but because I felt so close to him and in love. There is something pretty special and tender when both spouses want a baby. Those feelings may just be my own, but maybe someone understands what I’m talking about.

October came and flew by. I was tracking my ovulation and I nearly feel guilty for saying this, but we were pregnant by November 5th. It happened so fast that I immediately thought that it couldn’t be. I know when we tried for Mila it took a few months. (I also know for many women it takes so much longer and involves a ton of work. For those women who try and try again I have the upmost respect for. I wish so badly infertility wasn’t so vast, costly and heartbreaking. If you are struggling with trying to have a baby I send you my biggest hug and prayers.) When my pregnancy test showed positive I felt more nervous than excited. Looking back now there was always something off, but soon the thought of having another baby clouded any negative thought. Extreme excitement flooded both Dan and I. Maybe it was meant to be that it happened so fast. Maybe it was meant to be that it left us just as fast and it came.

The pregnancy felt just like how I felt when pregnant with Mila at first. Feeling over tired and nauseous only in the evenings. A lot of the time I could barely get through my days. Then things took a turn and I started to feel for lack of a better word, gross. I remember with Mila I felt sick, but I kept up on my daily routine. The start of this pregnancy just made me feel so awful. To which I thought was normal. Which it might have been. Though maybe it was my body telling me there was something wrong from the get go? My first doctors appointment was thrilling because we saw the little ball of cells and heard the little heart beat. After that we told our parents and made plans to tell the whole family at Christmas when we were all together.

The Wednesday before Christmas I had another doctors appointment to go over the blood work I had done the week prior. It was supposed to be just a routine thing. I felt normal, just beyond sick. I remember praying in the parking lot just as I always do, praying for a good doctors visit. When I was sitting in the lobby there was a pregnant woman who came bursting through the door with an ultrasound photo, she excitedly showed her husband who was in the waiting room with their son. She was quite loud and excited as she should be, but I remember thinking that in this setting she maybe should have been a little quieter. Only because you just never know who is sitting in the waiting room and what their situation is. Maybe someone here in the waiting room is suffering a loss or having trouble getting pregnant in the first place. Then seeing another woman waving her ultrasound photo showing even the receptionist could possibly make another woman hurt inside. Oddly enough, that person I was worried for ended up being me.

The routine ultrasound took a while. My doctor couldn’t find the heart beat we had heard two weeks ago. I asked her to check again and then once more. Nothing. I was about nine weeks along and although there was no heart beat now, the baby or ball of cells whatever you call it didn’t want to come out on its own. My doctor gave me a choice to either have a D&C or take medication at home. I decided to take the medication at home as it would be less invasive than a D&C. The only issue was that I’d now have to make myself take these pills, I’d feel a ton of pain similar to that of contractions and I’d somehow have to pass a nine week old fetus. I couldn’t take the pills for a few days because we right in the middle of our move, and apparently I had to make myself “as comfortable as possible” before taking this pills. So, two days before Christmas I took them and within a day I thought the worst was over. Initially when I took the pills I felt strong cramps that grew more painful as the night went on. I used a heating pad and tried to relax but was so freaked out. Poor Dan just helped me to and from the bathroom and basically held my hand. There wasn’t anything really for him to do. There was a lot of crying and by the morning I felt better. What came out of me was terrifying. Probably too graphic to mention here but if you’ve experienced a miscarriage then you know it is beyond gruesome. If you haven’t experienced a miscarriage, picture giant blood clots the size of oranges coming out of you. I passed about 2-3 of those in one night. Then just bled like a heavy period.

The next two days I felt better but just extremely tired. Come Christmas morning I felt off again but pushed through it to be there for Mila on Christmas morning. Though after all the gift opening we put Mila down for a nap and I started to feel immense pain again. Even worse than before. Apparently my body was not done. The pain lasted the rest of Christmas day where I just laid in bed. Feeling sad about this baby being no longer, but also so guilty I was feeling so terrible on such a special holiday. I felt like such a burden on my family. In the end I didn’t even care about having the miscarriage, I just wanted it to all be over. The next morning in the shower I passed the rest of what was left inside me. And that was just too gross to even think about again. I’m happy it happened in the shower. Amazingly enough the moment that last part came out of me I felt ten times better. Every day since I’ve started to feel more and more like myself.

I think when I first learned the baby didn’t have a heart beat anymore I felt angry. I had to come to peace with the loss though before I took the pills at home. I felt frustrated that it happened over the holiday, but again everything happens for some reason or another. I hate that miscarriage even exists simply because of the pain it causes, both physically and emotionally. I feel happy or grateful to have experienced it. I’m grateful my body handled it pretty well and I guess we go back to trying again. That is the thing though, there is never a right thing to say or do after a miscarriage. You have to trust your body and do what feels right to you. I have to now come to terms with the fact that it could happen again for reasons unbeknownst to me. That is a scary thought. I’ve been staying close to home and just spending all my time with Mila and Dan. I’ve been feeling like I need some time by myself to heal essentially. It has been two weeks and I’m finally starting to feel like I want to go outside and live again.

Now this loss is in the past. It won’t ever be forgotten but I feel like I need to finally let it go. I sometimes feel angry that I know loss so well. This miscarriage made loss and I friends once again. Loss forces me to learn more about myself and the strength I have within to fight. I don’t like loss, but there is always some shred of good that comes along with the bad. I try desperately to cling to that shred of good. I can’t help but feel grateful for loss as a whole. If I have survived loss then I should be proud and tell my tale as it may help others survive their own losses.

Sharing today has helped me let it go and I so appreciate whoever is out there listening.