"Why does no one talk about this?"
I asked my husband this very question on a cold day five years ago. On January 18th, 2019, I suffered my first miscarriage. I discovered I was pregnant on Christmas Eve. We were a little surprised – we hadn’t been trying that long – but we were absolutely ecstatic and terrified and felt all of those feelings soon-to-be parents feel. I remember thinking that my lifelong dream of becoming a mother was about to come true, but I also vividly recall that something felt ‘off’.
I scheduled my ultrasound for three weeks later. My cycles were regular, and I knew I had to be about 7.5 weeks pregnant. When we arrived to the ultrasound appointment, I told my husband that if I could just see a healthy baby with a healthy heartbeat measuring on time, my worries would ease.
The ultrasound technician was kind and comforting and took some measurements. “You’re still quite early, measuring 6 weeks and 1 day. Let’s see if I can find a heartbeat.” She found one, and it was the most beautiful sound I had ever heard. “86 beats per minute, which is a little low but normal for this early. It probably just started beating.”
To say this was not the reassurance I was looking for was an understatement. If you ask an OB-GYN, they will tell you measurements can be off by a week, or even two, often. My doctor was not alarmed. But something – an intuition, maybe; a feeling that I knew my body – kept telling me that all was not going according to plan.
The Devastating News
That appointment was Tuesday. By Thursday of that week, I woke up to some light spotting. I called my doctor’s office and they told me spotting was normal, especially after an invasive ultrasound. By Friday, the spotting was steady, and I had some light cramping. I called the office once again and they advised me to come in due to my O-Negative blood type (my husband has a positive blood type) to receive a RhoGAM shot.
Note: A Rhogam shot is needed to ensure the pregnant woman’s immune system does not attack the Rh protein in a fetus’ blood cells should they enter the woman’s blood stream.
While at the doctor’s office, the midwife on call told me in the simplest of terms that I was most likely going to miscarry. I was a little taken aback by how casually she had said it. I had not been bleeding heavily, just spotting really, and so I thought, there’s a chance she’s wrong, right?
But by Friday night the cramping continued, and my husband and I made the decision to go to the hospital. While at the hospital, I had to go through another invasive ultrasound, and I was bleeding much more heavily. After about three hours, the doctor told me there was no heartbeat. We had lost our baby.
I wonder if there is a word to accurately describe the pain that comes over you when your worst fears are confirmed, because it feels like nothing does it justice. I’ve never wanted anything more in my life than to be a mother. That was my path. And in that moment, it felt lost to me.
A Second Shattering Loss
Three months later, I relived much of the same trauma. My best guess is that we tried too soon, but I will never really know. I allowed one cycle to come and go before becoming pregnant for a second time. In a similar fashion, we waited until 7 weeks, went to the doctor and this time there was a baby, but no heartbeat and we were barely measuring 6 weeks.
Again they told me this could be normal, but I knew better. We returned for an ultrasound the following week, and the baby still measured 6 weeks with no heartbeat. I was told to wait it out and a few days later, I suffered a natural miscarriage for the second time.
I would like to say that I handled it better the second time around; that I knew what to expect, but if devastation hit me in January, I was inconsolable in April. I knew the stats now: 1 in 4 known pregnancies end in miscarriage. But only about 2% of women suffer two consecutive losses. The loss was overwhelming.
I wrote here about some of things that helped me process my grief. Books, therapy, faith and time all played an important role in my healing journey.
A Hopeful "Next"
My story has a very hopeful “next” – I won’t call it an ending because we’re still chugging along on this wild train called life. We waited three cycles and became pregnant in early September of 2019 with our daughter who is now 3 1/2. When she was 8 months old, I became pregnant again with a second daughter who is now 2. I am beyond grateful for the gifts that are my children.
While I don’t believe in some of the responses people say when they don’t know what to say: Everything happens for a reason; It’s all in God’s plan, I do believe we can find meaning in suffering. Little glimmers of truth can shine down on us during our darkest hours.
And so here are 3 truths that I learned at rock bottom…
I Have Limited Control Over This Life
I have spent the majority of my life believing that I have total control over what happens to me. This might sound insane to some, but I really felt this way. A therapist might call it “co-dependence.” I prefer “oldest anxious daughter syndrome.” If I took all the needed steps and made the right moves, life would go the way I wanted it to.
When we decided to have a baby, we made a decision, did what needed to be done, and we should have had a baby. I learned such an important lesson about control after my losses because I felt so utterly out of control. I tried everything possible to make life move in the direction I wanted it to, the direction I needed it to move to feel whole again: If I eat this food, take this supplement, read this book, worry less, breathe more, all will be well.
What I didn’t realize was that what I actually needed to do was let go. I needed to let go of who I thought I needed to be, what I thought my purpose and therefore my worth was, and just exist. Who would I be if my plans didn’t pan out? Who was I? I had to find the answers to those questions and allow life to take me on the journey it saw fit.
The Small Things Do Not Matter
This brought me to lesson #2. The small things honestly do not matter. And we all know what the small things are: The gossip, the bickering, the little arguments and frustrations – none of it really matters. I was very much a people pleaser before I suffered my miscarriages. I cared too much about superficial things and not enough about the things I needed to be caring about.
My miscarriages taught me to focus on what was important. I found my way through my losses with the help of my faith, and my faith also helped push me away from the things that were holding me back in life. I wasn’t always a person I liked before, and I wanted to be sure going forward that I could be someone my children were proud of. And so I went and became that person.
Multiple Things Can Be True
This is a tough one! But it’s the final lesson I’m going to share because I think it’s important. I can grieve the loss of my first two babies even while being so grateful for my two babies who made it earth side. Multiple things can be true. Gratitude and grief can live side by side.
I know I wouldn’t have at least one of my daughters today if one of my other babies had made it here. But the fact remains that I can still wonder who they would have become, what they would have looked like and how much I would have loved them. Multiple things can be true.
Please Take Care of Yourself
I hope my story helps you in some small way. It’s messy but it’s mine, and I wanted to share it with you. I felt very lonely when I lost my first baby and didn’t understand at the time why more people didn’t talk about pregnancy loss. I realize now that it’s a very personal thing. Some people want to grieve quietly. Others may not share the same sentiments I have over their losses, and that is valid. Shame, guilt, fear, maybe even relief and a mess of emotions in between can arise as well, and not everyone feels comfortable talking about those things.
But I know there are people searching for community and support in their sadness and confusion. This is a club none of us wanted to be in, and yet here we are. I hope you will take care of yourself. I hope you will find ways to grieve that are healthy and that you will allow yourself to feel all of the feelings – there are no wrong emotions when it comes to grief. And if you need a friend, even a virtual one, you know where to find me.