It’s been almost one year since my miscarriage, and to this day I haven’t shared the story with anyone. – in fact next Saturday will be one year from the day that I began experiencing intense cramping, the first physical sign I had that something was wrong. I was 8 weeks pregnant, and I was going to the doctor in 2 weeks to hear the heart for the first time. The whole experience of pregnancy and loss feels — I don’t have words, so I’ll narrow it down to three of the basic feelings: I felt mad, sad, and scared. I still hold those feelings.
The morning of May 2nd 2019, I woke up with a feeling of dread. I felt like I was dreading the day and didn’t feel right going to work. I felt like something was going to happen, but I went to work anyway. I was wearing jeans and a blouse my husband gave me for my birthday the day before – I’m not sure why my outfit is a relevant detail to me, but it is. As the day progressed, I felt a little off. I wrote it off as just being pregnant and having new hormones my body wasn’t used to.
I had a conference call with a colleague at 2:00pm. We took the call in his office. As I was sitting there, I began to cramp like I was about to start my period. I tried to write it off, as I was engaged in the call, but the cramps were bad. I knew it wasn’t right. Right after the call, I went to the restroom, where I noticed a significant amount of blood and some clotting. My heart dropped and started pounding. I went back to my office and called my primary care doctor’s office. My doctor personally took my phone call, told me that some bleeding can be normal, and she was going to call in bloodwork at the hospital, and I needed to go that afternoon. Then I would need to repeat in 2 days to check hcg levels. She was so kind to me and made me feel like she was going through this scary time with me. I hung up and immediately called my husband, fighting back tears because I knew it wasn’t “normal” spotting. I felt like I was going to collapse, I was packing up to leave. I walked by my former boss’s office, someone who had become my long time friend, and I told her I needed to leave. I asked her to let everyone know I had to go to the doctor’s office. She said I looked pale and walked down to my car with me. I was so grateful for her presence during that walk. It felt like the most miserable walk of my life. It felt like every step I took, I was inevitably forcing this little life out of me.
I made it to the hospital, the commute is a blur. My husband met me there and embraced me when he arrived. I had my blood taken, and I headed home. I don’t even remember that evening. No recollection at all.
The next memory I have, I was waking up in the middle of the night. My stomach cramping so bad. I went to the bathroom and there was so much blood. So much clotting. I sat on the toilet and sobbed. I remember crying out to God, “no, no, no not my baby. Not this baby. God please, I want THIS baby,” I don’t know how long I sat there crying, I don’t know what time it was. I remember purchasing pads. Being so sad that it was my next pregnancy related purchase after the book “what to expect when you’re expecting.” At some point, I returned to bed.
I woke up on the morning of May 3rd and decided it was a good idea to work from home. I was losing so much blood, not in my right mind at all. But I worked anyway. I checked my blood test results online and saw my hcg count was like 200 or something way too low for 8 weeks. And I knew. It was over. I had to accept it. Somehow I felt like I could still fight to keep my pregnancy — after all, it’s all mental, right?? Wrong. Around noon I went to the bathroom again, and I saw tissue on my pad. It was instantly numbing to see. It had just been like a bad period until that moment. Then it became like something I’d never seen before.
That afternoon, my doctor called to tell me the news of my blood work. She displayed so much care, so much compassion. She explained that she also had 3 miscarriages before her current pregnancy. She explained she knew how I felt, and she encouraged me as much as she could. Then she explained that because of my blood type, I needed a special shot that same day. That afternoon I would return to the hospital for additional bloodwork and a shot.
My husband took me to the hospital for the lab work and shot which was administered in the birthing center. When I got to the phlebotomist for blood work, she was having trouble finding my vein. This triggered so much fear and emotion, I started crying. I apologized and assured her it wasn’t her. She returned with a more senior phlebotomist who was so kind and able to draw quickly.
When I went up to the birthing center for my shot, the RN giving me the shot was so kind to me, she explained the process and the reason. Tried to speak positively. Then I felt I was having a reaction to the shot. I was confident it was anxiety after about a minute, but she took me to the ER due to the tightness in my throat.
The RN in the ER kept trying to give me an IV. I kept trying to tell her that I overreacted out of anxiety, and I didn’t need it. She said she would let the nurse practitioner decide. When the NP came in, she seemed rough around the edges and a no-nonsense kind of person. I remembered thinking how miserable it was going to be because she’d be abrasive with me, and I knew I couldn’t handle that in the moment. As soon as I told her what was going on, and why I ended up in the ER, her entire demeanor changed. She suddenly became the most kind, compassionate, and almost seemingly loving person. She let me decide what was best, so no IV. She gave me something mild for anxiety. Then she said she wanted to order an ultrasound, and she would cite the reason being possible ectopic pregnancy. Which later I discovered she ordered it to make sure everything had passed. As she gave me the results, I’ve never known anyone to be so compassionate. She said what I needed to hear in that moment, “it’s over. It’s done.” I felt a pit of sorrow in my soul, but I also no longer felt a need to keep fighting a loss that I couldn’t save. She put her hand on my forearm, looked into my eyes and just took a breath. I felt like she understood, I felt connected in a moment I needed so badly for someone to just know how I felt.
My husband held me that night as I sobbed. I fell asleep crying in his arms. He was also very compassionate and caring throughout our miscarriage, but I could also tell that he didn’t know what to do and HE didn’t have anyone to turn to. We didn’t tell anyone I was pregnant except my mom. My mom and Cody had no idea how to help. My mom had never had a miscarriage. Cody didn’t know what to do with my emotions or his.
For the next 6 weeks I had a migraine that wouldn’t even respond to steroids. I started backing off of work, caring less about work and how much I accomplished. I stopped enjoying a lot of things that I used to enjoy.
I’ve not been the same since that moment in my life. I probably handled it worse than most, and still haven’t gotten over it. I’m forever changed, and I’m trying to see the changes in a positive light. It’s so hard.
What I learned from my miscarriage:
I’m not alone in anything I feel. God will strategically place people in my life that I need in the moments I need them, reminding me of His amazing love.
I’ve been shown the power women have to comfort one another through the unique experiences we share. We can truly lift up one another in ways I never realized before.
I’m not in control of anything. This was a terrifying thought at first but now it gives me peace. I don’t have to worry or stress needlessly. I have to remind myself sometimes that I don’t have control over anything, but it’s helped my anxiety a lot.
I’m sure this next week is going to be difficult to face. I appreciate having the opportunity to share my story — you have no idea how much.