One in four women experiences the loss of a miscarriage. This is my story about my miscarriages and how I continue to walk through both of them. Today starts part one – just the narrative of the experiences of both of my losses.
Let me start this post with a disclaimer. This is about my experience with pregnancy loss and how I coped with it. I am not telling anyone on this earth how they should do it or what will work best for them. I am sharing my personal, singular story, in hopes that one woman, who feels like they are the loneliest person on the planet, may read it and feel a slight thread of hope in their despair. It is so important for us to share our story, as we feel led and comfortable to do so, because our stories help other people walk through theirs. I feel called by God to make sure that my story is told, for that one woman. Maybe that woman is you, or a friend or sister or cousin or colleague. Whoever she may be, know that you are walking in a sisterhood and there are women out in the world who want to hold your hand, wipe your tears, cradle you in our arms, and comfort you in any way possible. If this post is the only way you find that out, then I feel my calling has been met.
I have a son. A healthy, bouncy, ridiculous, five year old son who gets in trouble in kindergarten, does his chores (almost) every day, sings Sunday School songs while he goes to the bathroom, and loves to scratch the dogs until he finds “their spot” and then giggles endlessly. This child is the result of a completely normal, uneventful, and healthy pregnancy. I found out I was pregnant, progressed to forty weeks, had a c-section, and boom: had a son.
This experience, while magical and fun and exciting, unfortunately gave me the false sense of security that because I had had one completely normal, uneventful, and healthy pregnancy, I was untouchable when it came to pregnancy loss. I thought since my body had done it before, it obviously knew what the deal was and would have no problem doing it all again. Well. In a nutshell, I was mistaken.
Miscarriage #1
I found out I was pregnant on the morning of Christmas Eve of 2017. I had my suspicions – I was experiencing some pretty typical pregnancy symptoms but hadn’t said anything to my husband about them. I just so happened to have a pregnancy test, so that morning I got up really early and took it and then started at it until the first line turned the faintest blue color (this is one of those two blue lines tests, so when the first one comes up, it means you’re pregnant). I decided to wrap it up and give it to Chris as a gift the next morning.
He was very excited and pleased to open that gift the next day and we told Jett what was going on too. He was thrilled – he had been asking us for a sister for a few months at that point. And, since it was Christmas day, what better day to surprise our parents with this news as well? So we FaceTimed my parents and decided to wait until we got to Chris’ parents house to share the news with him. We always pray in the kitchen as a family with Chris’ parents, so right after we prayed we shared the news with them. Everyone cried and then we sat down to dinner. After a few minutes, I felt the urge to pee (not uncommon, right?) and when I went to the bathroom, let’s just say there was blood, and an alarming amount of it. More than could be explained by typical spotting at the beginning of a pregnancy.
I immediately texted my mom to ask her opinion (pictures might have been involved but hey, she is a nurse after all). She told me to go to the hospital but we had JUST told Chris’ parents and family and everyone was so excited. I didn’t want to go back to the dinner table and say “Oh hey guys – soooo I’m going to need to go to the ER – Merry Christmas!” (Reminder, it was Christmas day.) So I told her no, so she put me on bed rest basically, and told me if there any chance of saving it, it would be because I sat down and did nothing. SO naturally, I went to Walmart and bought pads and leggings and extra underwear because I had no idea what to expect.
We had Christmas dinner, opened Christmas presents, and went out to eat, all while I was cramping and trying to keep it all together and bleeding. And trying to figure out what the hell just happened. It was so fast, and so unexpected, and so overwhelming, that I had no choice but to deal with it in the very moment it was happening.
By the time we got home, I had almost stopped bleeding altogether. I called my OB and made an appointment and by the time I went, I had stopped bleeding and there were no pregnancy hormones in my bloodwork.
We told approximately nobody about this – other than calling our parents to tell them the disappointing news. It all happened so fast that I never got a chance to feel pregnant or get super excited. If I hadn’t taken the pregnancy test, I would have assumed it was just a really bad period. I am saying all of that because I feel like I didn’t need the opportunity or chance to grieve a loss, because I had just barely had the chance to feel like anything was different to begin with.
Miscarriage #2
We have a family reunion every year. This year, I had to go without Chris and do the solo parenting thing the entire weekend. It was, in a word, exhausting. It was also fun and a great memory, but man, by the time I got home I was WIPED OUT. Chris suggested I take a pregnancy test, because I don’t normally get so tired from such things. So, the next morning, July 16th, I peed on a stick. Both lines were bold and blue before I even finished peeing. There was for sure no mistaking it.
After the last pregnancy, I was definitely wayyyy more reserved about telling anyone. I wanted to wait until that magical 12 week mark, when things seem to take hold and settle down. I had almost every symptom – total exhaustion, crazy cravings, sore boobs, and I was basically a bitch from hell. My hormones were EVERYWHERE. But more than anything, I was excited, and that took me by complete surprise.
The last pregnancy came as quite a surprise. I wasn’t sure if I wanted another child, so to be quite honest, I was pretty relieved that I wasn’t pregnant anymore after the first miscarriage. But this time, something took hold of me and I was almost thrilled to be expecting. Maybe if I had had the energy, I would have been thrilled about it. So that being said, it was hard for me to keep my mouth shut. I probably definitely told more people than I should have; but I honestly couldn’t help it! My shocked excitement got the better of me.
Around three weeks after finding out I was pregnant, I got an absolutely horrible migraine. I get them from time to time, but every once in a while I get one that reminds me how easy the other ones are. They typically move from one side of my forehead to the other and feel like someone has stuck a screwdriver in my face and left it there. I get nauseous and that makes it where I can’t lay down, because the pressure on my face kills me, but I also can’t sit up because I get nauseous and need to throw up. In not so many words, I was miserable. They usually happen at night too, so I was up most of the night, trying to keep down two tylenol (futile) and survive this thing.
I did, in fact, survive the migraine. Afterwards, I felt so much better, that I didn’t really take note of the fact that some of the other symptoms were fading – like my tender chest and cravings. I remember thinking – maybe I’m just getting to the end of my first trimester and they’re calming down a bit.
Two weeks later, I went to the doctor for my first visit. The nurse told me that based on my period, I should be around 9 weeks along. I remember thinking that my first trimester symptoms really shouldn’t have been gone for the last couple of weeks, but didn’t put much stock in it. I told Chris, word for word, that my biggest fear was that she would start the ultrasound and there would be nothing there.
If you’ve never had a vaginal ultrasound, well friend consider yourself a lucky person. They’re not fun, and when you’re in this situation they just add insult to injury. My OB began the ultrasound and as soon as the picture popped up on the screen, I knew something was definitely not right. There was something there, but definitely not a fetus in a healthy sac. It looked like the sac inside my uterus had exploded – the edges were all blown out and fuzzy. I knew from Jett’s sonograms that it should be a pretty clear, oval/roundish sac with a little white blob in the middle. There was none of that.
The doctor confirmed my suspicions when she said, “Oh, this doesn’t look good.” and went on to explain that all of the white, static-y looking fuzz surrounding the malformed sac, was blood and clots that had already started to form. She apologized and left the room so that I could get dressed. I cried and pulled myself together to talk to the doctor about next steps.
She suggested that we wait one week and see if anything had changed. She warned me that, in her experience, things would not progress and to not be too hopeful. As a realistic person, these words were gold to me. I did not want someone to just tell me what I wanted to hear. So we decided to wait, and that was the longest damn week of my entire life. I was again on bed rest, and had decided that I would do whatever I could to preserve whatever life might be in my womb. I slept, a lot. I cried some. I talked to myself about what it would look like to go back and see a little heartbeat on that screen and what it would look like to see a large, black spot as well. I watched a LOT of Criminal Minds.
I went back the following week, and already knew that nothing had changed. I felt empty both physically and emotionally. The ultrasound confirmed that I was right. We scheduled a D&C for the following Monday, and I was sent home with instructions to have a very calm, relaxing weekend. I had not started bleeding yet, and the doctor was worried that if I did, it would be quite traumatic for me based on what she was seeing on the ultrasound screen.
This concludes part one. I’m taking a break next week, since we have something fun to celebrate around here and that is worthy of a break. I’ll be back in two weeks to share about the D&C procedure itself. Thanks for joining me!
I love you. Thank you for being brave and sharing this story. Always here for you, always.