*After reading the title of this post, it’s safe to assume that this won’t be an easy read. It wasn’t easy to write. Miscarriage can be a controversial topic. It can create an emotional upheaval. Especially if you have been through it before. If you feel that this topic is too much for you, please protect your inner self by skipping over this post.*
2020 has been crazy. If that’s not an understatement, I really don’t know what is. A global pandemic, political blowups, killer bees, a recession….the list goes on and on. For me, a miscarriage.
In the middle of June, my husband and I found out that I was pregnant with our second child. Our son, 2.5, has brought so much joy and happiness to our lives. We were over the moon and thrilled to expand our family again.
My pregnancy with our son was not an easy one. I was sick the entire time. Struggled with low blood pressure, body issues, depression, and anxiety. His birth did not go to plan at all and was extremely traumatic. Breastfeeding was a joke. I tried for months and it just didn’t work out. 4 months post partum, I realized that I had post partum depression and anxiety. I was a mess. I struggled with the fact that my body did not do the one thing that, biologically, I’m made to do: make and sustain babies.
It took months to find myself again and to feel “normal” again. I came to this conclusion: I am a woman. I carried a human life for 9 months and birthed a baby. No matter how it happened: I am a fucking badass!
Fast forward to June of this year: I’m pregnant! My husband and I were anxious yet over joyed. We went to our first ultrasound and were a little disappointed because we couldn’t see anything yet. I wasn’t as far along as they thought I was. I was having some pain in my lower left side; which caused my Dr to schedule a more in-depth ultrasound at the imaging center.
I didn’t know what to think. I had a feeling my body was telling me that something was wrong. I pushed it aside and waited for the results from the in-depth ultrasound. We were told that I was 6 weeks along. They saw a heartbeat and blood flow. Everything was fine and they wanted us to go back in 2 weeks.
What a relief!!! We counted down the days to the next ultrasound. We just wanted to see our baby and confirm a due date. We started thinking of clever ways to tell our family and close friends.
On July 15th, we went in for the ultrasound. We were so excited and anxious. I remember the first time I saw our son. There were so many happy tears. My Dr brought in the machine and started the ultrasound. He instantly frowned and started moving the machine around; trying to get a better look. After a few moments, he turned to us and said “I am so sorry guys. There is no blood flow, no heartbeat, and no growth from the last ultrasound. This looks like a miscarriage”.
My heart sank into my stomach. I’m dreaming, right? This is just a really bad dream. I wanted to pinch myself. I wanted to throw up. I wanted to scream and cry. Instead, I pulled myself together and started asking questions. “What happened? Why did this happen? What are our options from here?”
The first thing my Dr said to me was “I need you to know that this isn’t your fault. You are healthy and take good care of yourself. I know that. This is not your fault. 1 in 5 pregnancies end in miscarriage. Sometimes these things just happen. I am so sorry for your loss.”
1 in 5 pregnancies end in miscarriage?? I was floored. I had no idea that so many other women had lost babies too. This experience is truly heartbreaking. It is extremely difficult to put it into words. I can’t imagine all of the other mamas out there mourning their lost babies.
After going over our options, we opted for a natural miscarriage. No meds. No surgery. Just let the body do it’s thing naturally. One week later, I called my Dr in tears. I had a fever, body aches, fatigue, the chills, the sweats, vomiting, nausea, headaches. I felt like I had the flu. He prescribed medication to help things move along.
The medication felt like it was working. I was in so much pain that it reminded me of childbirth. The flu-like symptoms continued and got worse. We did a follow up a few days later and my Dr confirmed that the meds hadn’t worked. Our only other option was surgery.
At this point, I was done. I wanted it to be over. It’s hard to grieve and process in the middle of everything. And once again, I found myself beating myself up over the fact that my body was not cooperating and doing what it was supposed to do.
On July 30th, I went into the hospital for surgery. I will spare you the surgical details, however, I felt like I was walking into the hospital with a baby and out with nothing. I felt guilt and shame; like I had done something wrong. I felt disgusted with myself and my body. I felt like a horrible wife and an even worse mother. I felt like I had let everyone down. I was questioning if I wanted to have more kids. I was questioning if I was strong enough.
Those thoughts continued to flow through my mind during surgical prep. Ryan kept asking me how I was feeling and if I was ok and I honestly could not answer him. I was choking back tears.
When I woke up in the recovery room, my Dr was by my side, monitoring my vitals and asking how I was doing. This is when it all really hit me. I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. My emotional dam broke and I just lost it. The tears started to flow and I all I could say was “My baby is gone. My baby is gone”.
The recovery was brutal. Both physically and emotionally. Those dark thoughts of worthlessness wouldn’t leave me alone. I couldn’t shake the shame, guilt, and fear of the future. I laid in bed and cried for 3 days.
On the 4th day, my son came running into the room and asked “Mama, can we have waffles and bacon for breakfast??”. It was Saturday and he knew that we usually did a special breakfast on the weekends. I looked into his sweet eyes and realized that I had a choice: I could stay in bed and let these dark thoughts and feeling take over once more or I could get up, dust myself off, and have a nice breakfast with my family.
That morning, I slowly made my way downstairs and helped make breakfast. I sat at the table and ate waffles with my family. I cried. We all laughed. It was a magical moment.
From there, we took it day by day, moment by moment, and slowly found our groove again. We grieved while staying present with our son and being thankful for all that we have.
For the mamas who lost babies, I mourn and grieve with you. Our babies are gone; they will never be forgotten. We will get through this.
For the spouses who hold it together and act as our rock, thank you. A thousand times. Thank you.
For the people wondering if I’m having more kids, honestly, it is none of your damn business. So please stop asking.
For those who don’t know how to support someone who has had a miscarriage, it can be hard to empathize when you haven’t been through it. I understand. The best thing you can do is not ask questions, listen with a compassionate heart, and just be there. This is a very intimate, delicate, and heartbreaking space to be in.
Love you all,
Rachel
A Balanced Life 