I’ll be the first to tell you,
On June 21, 2017 I had a miscarriage, and it really really sucked.
If we rewind a bit, we can start this story from the beginning…
My husband and I had been married almost a year, when we decided to start actively trying for a baby in March of 2017. There was one thing, and one thing only, that I always knew I wanted to be when I grew up… and that was a mom. I was ready to step into that role. So ready.
Much to our surprise, I ended up getting pregnant the first month of trying! We were absolutely elated!
I dove into research on everything “baby” because that’s what I do when I get excited about something – research. Exciting, I know (LOL).
We dreamed and planned and dreamed some more. We came up with cute little ways to tell our family, friends, and even the people we barely know on Facebook of our good news. We waited what we thought was the safe amount of time to tell the social media world (10 weeks). We never thought the unspeakable would happen to us… But I guess nobody does.
On June 1 we went in for our first ultrasound, expecting to be halfway into my 11th week of pregnancy. Because I am an avid researcher, I knew exactly what I was supposed to see on the ultrasound screen. But instead, I saw nothing. There was no baby.
I suffered from what’s called an anembryonic pregnancy, or a blighted ovum.
Basically, a fertilized egg (my baby) attached itself to my uterine wall, but the egg either ceased to develop or was reabsorbed, most likely because of chromosomal abnormalities. This all happened very very early in my pregnancy, however, my body still recognized it was pregnant for weeks afterwards. Thus, the reason we had no idea anything was wrong.
I still had pregnancy symptoms… I craved green olives, I was exhausted ALL the time, I had a gut feeling that my baby would be a boy, my breasts were tight and sore, I had crazy/wacko dreams… All of it.
My Dr. tested my HCG levels a few times the following week to confirm that it was a failed pregnancy. HCG levels in a healthy pregnancy typically double every 48 hours. Mine were dropping. My Dr. gave me the option of letting my body miscarry naturally, or to have a D&C.
I chose to miscarry naturally.
There was a part of me that was still hoping for a miracle, and I couldn’t bear the thought of interfering when there was a tiny possibility that the Dr. was wrong.
Looking back, I’m glad I chose to wait because it gave me a few weeks to emotionally process what was going to happen. However, nothing can prepare you for losing a baby.
When the day finally came, I definitely wasn’t prepared. I didn’t know that having a miscarriage is much like going through labor. You have contractions, there is pain, and there is bleeding. And it’s not even worth it because you won’t be holding a baby at the end of it all. I let myself go. I didn’t eat or drink, and because of that I ended up making a trip to the emergency room for dehydration.
I stayed in the hospital for a day, puking from dehydration and/or pain, probably a combination of both. They gave me fluids and pain meds, but the meds couldn’t make my broken heart feel any better. I just cried in that hospital bed for hours. And then my husband took me home.
We felt so much raw pain the next couple of months. We were consumed with sorrow, heartache, and hopelessness. Most nights we sat in silence, staring at the wall. I cried and cried and cried. I locked myself in bathrooms and sobbed. I woke up weeping in the middle of the night. I pushed people who loved me away. I shut myself away from the world completely. My husband, who was also hurting, didn’t know what to do with me. And as a man who has always loved and protected me to no end, that was really hard for him.
With time, things started to feel somewhat normal again. I couldn’t lay in bed forever, so instead I made myself very busy. My thinking was that, if I’m busy I won’t have time to feel pain. But with every passing week, I was reminded that my baby was no longer growing inside of me. My due date was hanging over my head like an ax. I dreaded its arrival.
In my post, ____________ , I share some of the things that helped me heal. Follow this link to read about my healing process.
Despite all of the heartache that those months held, some of my life’s biggest blessings came from our tragedy.
I was welcomed into a community of women who had also lost a baby (or babies) before. Some had lost their babies recently, some had lost their babies years and years ago. But once an angel mama, always an angel mama.
This journey wasn’t an easy one, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. But I have become passionate about making miscarriage a more talked about subject. One of the reasons it was so hard for us was because we didn’t know ANYTHING about it. And how could we? No one ever talks about miscarriage. We didn’t know what to expect. We never even considered the possibility of it happening because we had no idea how common it really was.
1 in 4 women, 25 % of the female population, will have a miscarriage at least once in their lifetime. Those are staggering statistics, but I have no doubt that they are accurate.
Because basically the whole world knew about my pregnancy, the whole world also knew that I miscarried. And that public knowledge led dozens of women, and a few men, to reach out to me in love & share their own stories. I know I keep saying this, but I seriously just had no idea how incredibly common miscarriage was/is.
Most women miscarry before they even have the chance to tell people they’re pregnant, so many women end up going through it feeling completely alone in their struggles and sorrows.
I don’t want that for anyone. Ever.
From the day we first found out we would miscarry, I read blog after blog about other women’s experiences. Those bloggers helped me tremendously because I personally didn’t feel like talking to anyone, despite being crippled with the fear of what would be happening in my very near future. I needed to know, but I didn’t want to talk about it, so I read.
That is why this blog will have a section completely dedicated to helping women (and men) through miscarriage, and to helping people on the outside know how to be there for their loved ones.
If this applies to you, I am so deeply sorry for you loss. I have been where you are, and I am praying for you daily. Please subscribe to my blog so that we can heal and walk through this together. I want to comfort you in your sorrows, and eventually share in your joy when your rainbow baby comes along.
If this doesn’t directly apply to you, I guarantee it applies to someone close to you. Share these posts with them. As an angel mom, the last thing I ever want is for people to act like my baby never existed. Your friend will appreciate you acknowledging her baby’s life, I promise.
Goodbye for now, my beloved readers.