We found out we were pregnant in January. This would explain the crazy carrot salad cravings and frequent and unexplained tears. We were so excited and experiencing the swirl of emotions after finding out such news!
We knew our lives would never be the same.
Week six came fast and hit hard. I spent all day in a fog of nausea and survived on crackers, toast, and apples (on good days). I had aversions to EVERYTHING! I couldn’t smell anything without heaving. I couldn’t workout. I could hardly function most days. What got me through the infinitely long days was how many close friends and family reminded me these were all good signs, they showed that my body was busy working to grow a human life.
I was 10 weeks pregnant when the appointment we had been waiting on pins and needles for finally arrived. It still felt quite surreal, and I was eager to ground out this wonderful reality with hearing the heartbeat and seeing the baby move. My husband and sister came, as they had eagerly been awaiting this moment for months.
The midwife began my ultrasound, and I felt an immediate shift in the room. She had a stoic voice and quickly noted, “This is NOT a 10-week baby.” She said this was a 7-week baby who had stopped growing and let me know that I was experiencing a “missed miscarriage”. I don’t remember a word I said, it’s all a blur because I was in such shock. I felt like I was being dismissed from class and off to carry on with my day, but I had no clue how to even go forward in this moment — what it would look like, how to take in this life-altering shift that happened from one audible line of heart-breaking news.
My husband, equally in shock, just stared at me as we mirrored each other’s glazed over faces. The doctor left the room and we had a moment — I was so thankful for my sister’s presence there as she graciously helped us through the moment. She gathered both of us in her arms as we sat in a huddle, letting this all land as best as we could.
The doctor came back in the room and explained the situation with more detail and outlined my options. She explained that in the case of a missed miscarriage, my body still thought I was pregnant, meaning hormones were still increasing and carrying on with business as usual. She also let me know that it may take some time for my body to catch on and be able to release the baby.
I was then given my options: schedule an immediate D&C to remove the baby, take a drug that sends your body into labor to pass baby, or wait for my body to do it on its own. I knew that I wanted to give my body a chance. It had brought this baby into the world; it would usher this baby out.
When my midwife said it would take some time, she meant it. I spent the next 5 weeks living with all the symptoms of pregnancy, but the new reality that I wasn’t actually going to get to keep this pregnancy. They were some of the longest days of my life, as time seemed to stand still.
Shortly after we found out we were pregnant, we knew we needed to sell the tiny bungalow and find a bigger space that would be suitable for a new baby. So, we sold the bungalow and bought a little home nearby. Moving day was three days after we found out we were miscarrying, and to add to the difficulty of the moment, the day before we were supposed to move my husband tore his hamstring and couldn’t walk. My family came to the rescue and helped us get settled into the new place. The house felt cozy, but also reminded me of our original intention when buying it. Here I was on the other side of this unexpected turn in the story — waiting for the next step to take place.
Within these weeks of waiting for a miscarriage to occur, it is truly a warring between the heart and the body. Your heart hurts deeply, but you also reach a position of being ready for your body to release. I vacillated between these two places, and this taught me surrender — I could not control the timing of it. I was split wide open in a way I have not experienced before.
Over five weeks after finding out the baby was no longer thriving; my body began to cramp and bleed late one night. The cramping was intense, and the bleeding was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I passed the baby at midnight on Good Friday.
I knew that after fully miscarrying, the bleeding should slow and so I found it concerning when the next morning the bleeding really picked up again. This time, it was even stronger and accompanied by very intense pain. My body was hemorrhaging.
My husband had just gotten back from the grocery store and walked into quite an alarming situation. We decided I needed to get to the ER — and quickly. As I was making my way to the dresser to get clothes on, I felt my body begin to shut down. This was different then blacking or passing out, which I had experienced before, this felt as though I was dying… I felt awful and helpless.
Right before I collapsed to the floor and lost consciousness, I looked into his face and said, “I love you.” He knew what that meant and quickly said it back as he scrambled for his phone to call 911.
Everything went black. And then white. I remember thinking, “I must have waited too long” and thinking “was this really it?” I started to become aware of my breath and my next thought was, “I guess I’m still alive?!” I breathed deeply and intentionally as I slowly regained consciousness.
When I came to, I was surrounded by a herd of firemen. They quickly stabilized me, loaded me onto the gurney, and I was rushed to the ER. Shortly after arriving, an ER Doc attempted to remove what he suspected may be causing the hemorrhage. Being conscious for this procedure was brutal and it was unsuccessful. They told me I needed an emergency D&C as they quickly prepared me for surgery, all the while, I was continuing to lose blood.
I was in the operating room and out before I knew it. Although I had really hoped my body would have done this on its own, there was a comforting sense of completeness when I woke from the surgery. I felt safe knowing this part was over.
It’s been almost 2 weeks and I’m healing slowly. I’m still weak from the blood loss, hoarse from the tube they put down my throat, and sore from the procedure…but my body is healing. The part where the real healing is occurring is inside of my spirit. My heart is raw and tender, which is exactly why I chose to share this with you all, right in the middle of the grief. I am not waiting until I’m on the victory side, I am living this out — in real time — doing the same work I encourage others to do. I know I am being rebuilt, from the ground up, traumas have a humbling way of doing that. I am reminded of what brings forth these transformations and what strengthens the resilience of the heart…
It’s being brave enough to process right in the center of the pain. It’s casting a vision of what’s to come, even when you don’t see it yet (after all, this is what true hope is). It’s practicing the patience it takes to endure layers of grief and pain, trusting it isn’t forever. It’s allowing yourself to be loved on, when it’s more comfortable for you to be the one taking care of others.
Life is a true gift, I feel this now more than ever. I am also reminded that while our pain is not beautiful, who we become in and because of it, most certainly is. While I have experienced a death and loss, things have come to life in me that I thank this baby for. I know that nothing is wasted, and this chapter of my story is no exception.
I am at a loss for words when it comes to expressing my gratitude for the unwavering love and support I received during this difficult time. My heart swells with appreciation for the way my friends, family, and community came together to rally around me, often bringing me to tears and leaving me wondering how I could be so blessed.
To my husband, I want to express my profound gratitude for your steadfast love and support. There were times when it all felt too overwhelming, and I didn’t know how to keep going. You have been my anchor. You did not leave my side and continue to hold me up with your strength, grace, and faith. You truly are the most incredible person I know. I cannot imagine navigating this world without you. To my girlfriends who walked with me through the trenches, cried with me, and showered me with love, prayers, and more flowers than I could ever hope to arrange in vases. To my parents and my three sisters who brought me the unique form of comfort that is only found within the bonds of family. You continue to reassure me, and I am always fully seen and known in your presence. And to one of my dearest girlfriends who herself recently experienced a miscarriage… your unwavering presence, comfort, and understanding throughout it all filled me with a sense of peace and love that only a true friend who has been through the same pain can provide.
Never before have I felt so deeply loved. I have been emptied, only to be filled up again. There has not been one moment where I have felt like I was walking through this alone. While I know that I will never be the same, I am so grateful for the lasting mark this little being has forever left on my heart. I have gained so much more than I have lost.
Now that I have (and continue) to walk through this, I have moved from offering sympathy to true empathy and understanding for the countless other women who have been where I am. I am truly blessed beyond measure and humbled by the ways you have scooped me up and cared for me. Thank you.
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