This Is My Story

April 17, 2019


Miscarriage.

 

I hate that word - it implies that someone did something wrong. If you’re searching ‘miscarriage’ and come across this, I’m so sorry for your loss. Please know you didn’t do anything incorrect. 

 

You are not a failure.

 

Miscarriage, the term stung us for the first time last year. It was early July when I felt all the signs, one test quickly confirmed we were pregnant. My husband and I were very excited to have such a sweet surprise. We told close family and friends...and I bought a few things...after two healthy babies and pregnancy’s why wouldn’t I get excited? We picked names. It crazy how quickly you love your child.  

 

It was August 14th when we got the call. It wasn’t a viable pregnancy. I would go thru a miscarriage. It was on my birthday that it happened. The day I was given life I lost life. 

 

Some Shakespeare shit.

 

It was heartbreaking for the whole family, I never even told my dad we were pregnant because I wanted to surprise him in December. We had to explain it to our kids ... that was probably the worst part. We made sure to not say we ‘lost the baby’ for fear they’d think we could ‘lose’ them and I did not use the word miscarriage. My 3 year old son asked about the baby for weeks after. It stung every time.

 

I kept reminding myself that life was very special and part of appreciating it was knowing that it didn’t last forever. 

 

I wouldn’t say we were trying for a third after that but the hubs and I started talking about one more. About whether I should share what happened. I started writing a blog (s). 

 

I deleted them all.

 

Then one day I felt a lump. Not cancer, it was squishy ... a hernia ... after multiple doctors and a surgeon they determined I had 3 and needed surgery. March 28 I sat on a hospital bed, ass out, hooked to machines, when our nurse Evy wanted to give me a pregnancy test before surgery.

 

When she said I passed my husband and I locked eyes.

 

I was pregnant again. We both demanded another test.

 

Positive.

 

The nurse hugged us as I started to cry. The anesthesiologists had never had a surprise pregnancy and she also started bawling. The surgeon came over and said we can’t operate. Told me I could carry the baby with the hernias and offered solid advice. It would be a high risk pregnancy but we could do it.

 

We rushed to my OB to get my HCG levels. 

 

The next day we learned we were ‘very’ pregnant. That’s what she said in the message ‘very’, and they wanted to do an ultrasound. The hope was so high and the irony, the baby we lost in August would have been due around the time we discovered this new little surprise, didn’t fly past us. All signs we wouldn’t hear that ugly term again. We agreed to not tell the kids until our baby was in the clear - closer to 12 weeks. 

 

I begged him to not tell anyone, but he couldn’t help it. He told the moms. They told people despite my wishes, they were excited too. I would have to tell people at work again because the surgery didn’t happen and I wanted to tell a few friends. I would need them if things didn’t work out. 

 

The ultrasound was that Monday. I saw the heartbeat. I have a picture of my baby. She said we were only 6 weeks 4 days.

 

Not very pregnant at all and I knew all the stats. 

 

Then my OB with another blow... the heart beat was only 80bpm. Low fetal heart rate. The odds of survival were 38%. Probably lower because of my age. 

 

More numbers. 

 

2 babies in 9 months.

 

The world seemed so dark.

 

I cried in the parking lot for what seemed like forever before calling my husband. We had to wait a week. A week to see if there was still a heartbeat. 

 

Waiting is the worst. 

 

It’s Torture. 

 

Every time I got sick I was convinced it was a sign we would be OK. Every time I went to the bathroom I checked for blood … the appointment was April 8th, and my husband’s birthday is April 7th. No way could both our birthdays become so sad. 

 

More signs.

 

Monday was a long morning. My husband and I got to the OB and we knew what to listen for.

 

It never came. 

 

Another little one gone. Another birthday. More tears.

 

It was inevitable that I would have a miscarriage. That word makes me so mad. I didn’t ‘miss carry’ anything. I love those babies. I fought for them. I protected them.

 

For all those who have felt this pain, who may one day feel it ... to the person looking for something that speaks to them to cope with their feelings that’s not a ‘top 5 list of ways to get thru it’, well, It’s the worst.

 

Your heart is broken and you had no control, but it’s normal for your body to know more than you and to make hard decisions.

 

That was, and is again, my comforting thought. My body knows something I don’t. 

 

The female body is amazing

 

This thought doesn’t take the love away you had for that sweet soul or the pain others will feel for you. Even the silent pain you’ll deal with yourself.

 

Or the fact that you might feel like a failure. A failure to the baby, your family and friends. Especially the failure you feel when you look at your spouse, and while you will feel the spectrum of emotions, I found this feeling of failure to be the most surprising. And it came on strong both times. 

 

But you’re not a failure. 

 

I see you.

 

I think you’re supposed to mourn the loss and feel nothing and then everything, then nothing again. 

 

Grieving is a process.

 

Your friends and family will mourn for you too, and it’s just as heartbreaking hearing the news as it is it to have to tell those who already loved your baby.

 

The friends that couldn’t wait to throw a shower and sneak in champagne after I gave birth.

 

The coworkers who couldn’t wait to watch him or her grow and uncomfortably touch your belly.

 

The family that already started the countdown to another grandbaby

It’s natural for them to feel the loss as well. 

 

What seems to not be natural is women talking about it. We don’t take time to heal, time for your family to heal. NO blog, article or list told me that. That you should take a step back and collect your thoughts. With our first I took 5 days off and my company supported me. They protected me even. Some lied for me. 

 

So I’ll take some mental health days when the process starts again because I will fail myself if I don’t and it feels like I’ll fail others if I don’t share that all the feelings are a normal reaction to an incredibly sad moment in life. I’m going to usher this baby thru its last phase of life like the one before it. With respect for the process, my baby and my body.

 

 

And I won’t be scared or embarrassed or ashamed to talk about it or ask for time to heal. 

 

And you shouldn’t either.

 

I’m sorry you’re here. Looking for comfort for something that was out of your control. 

 

You will get thru this. 

 

I know there are some dark days ahead; just remember that no matter how dark things can get, they can also get so bright they blind you. 

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