My Beginning of Motherhood: Miscarriage

My journey to motherhood began as many women’s do – with the loss of our first child through miscarriage. But that’s not where the story really begins. It really begins with the life of our first child.

The Positive Pregnancy Test

We had only been trying to conceive for a very short time when I had an extremely unusual day. My cycle was very predictable and I always had cramps the first day of starting my period but not on any other day.

So when I began cramping right around when my period was due, I was dismayed. I remember sitting behind my desk at work and leaving to use the restroom. I was shocked when I did not see any blood. I knew cramping could be a pregnancy symptom and began to get excited. 

By the time evening came and I still had not experienced any bleeding, I was fairly certain I was pregnant because this had never happened before.

That night, I had a new symptom; all of my joints became very loose. It was a strange feeling and one that confirmed to me that I was pregnant. I knew the hormone relaxin could do this to your joints during pregnancy.

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I was so excited that I couldn’t sleep much that night, but, ridiculous as it sounds, I was determined to have as accurate a pregnancy test as possible by waiting for my first morning pee.

The next morning, I refused to look at the pregnancy test until I had waited a solid three minutes as the package directed. When I finally looked and saw two very distinct pink lines, the greatest joy filled my heart and overflowed in the tears rolling down my cheeks.

I could hardly wait for my husband to wake up so I could tell him the amazing news of our baby. I had not told him the previous night that I suspected I was pregnant. However, he knew I was planning to take a pregnancy test four weeks after my last period since we were actively trying to conceive.

We told my parents over the phone that same day, texting them a picture of the positive test. They were shocked and ecstatic.

I remember going to the carwash with my husband that day. I remember what I was wearing and how I was feeling. I was very tired from lack of sleep the night before but far too happy to be moody. I thought about our baby and the incredible fact that I was pregnant. 

The First Ultrasound

I began researching OBGYNs in our area of which there were many. We had just moved to the city we were currently living in, and I did not have a doctor or anyone to ask for recommendations.

I looked online at my options and read some reviews. After finding a doctor who had amazing reviews, I made an appointment for my initial ultrasound at 8 weeks. 

On the day of the appointment, my husband came with me. We had the ultrasound and then saw the doctor who congratulated us in a cherry voice.

She said the baby was measuring at 6 1/2 weeks and gave me a new due date from what I had originally figured. I was disappointed to not be as far along as I had previously thought but didn’t think too much of it.

The doctor mentioned something about the heartbeat and I said I didn’t think the tech was able to see it (I was very naive and did not recognize these things as danger signs in my inexperience with pregnancy).

But the doctor brushed past that saying she had seen a little bit of a heartbeat. They did, however, want me to come back in two weeks for another ultrasound since I wasn’t as far along as we had thought.

Still oblivious to the possibility that something might be wrong with our baby, by the end of the appointment, my husband and I had decided to find another doctor.

Some of this doctor’s answers to our questions about how she would handle various circumstances during or leading up to labor concerned us. My husband and I are always trying to do things more natural, and we got the feeling this doctor was a little too eager to employ medical intervention. 

I ended up having a consultation with a midwife about a week later to see if she would offer more of what we were hoping to experience with our pregnancy and delivery.

In all reality, I had no idea what I wanted, and looking back, I am amazed at just how little I knew about such things. All I really knew was that I did not want a doctor who would be quick to induce or c-section me.

In fact, when the midwife asked if I was planning to have a natural birth, I was embarrassed that I didn’t even know what that meant. 

Nonetheless, this consultation was when the seed was planted which would eventually grow into my passion for having a natural birth (read the birth story of my rainbow baby here).

I left that consultation pretty sure my husband would agree that a midwife would provide the type of care we were hoping for. I planned to switch to her after my next ultrasound.

Discovering My Missed Miscarriage

A few days later, as I got ready to leave for my ultrasound appointment, I had a fleeting fearful thought of the possibility that the ultrasound might reveal something wrong with our baby. But I quickly dismissed it, deciding to trust God instead of worry before every appointment. 

My husband did not accompany me to this appointment due to his limited time off from work.

I remember very clearly what I was wearing and how I felt the moment my plans and joy were irreparably crushed as the ultrasound tech viewed the screen and said, “I’m not seeing a heartbeat, Sweetheart.” 

I was shocked and devastated. I realize now that I should have expected it, but in my ignorance, I was not expecting a miscarriage at all.

The tears of joy I had shed 6 weeks prior were now replaced by tears of grief and sorrow.

The tech left to have the doctor come look at the ultrasound. It was a different doctor than the one we had seen at the previous appointment.

As she looked at the screen, she pointed to the upper portion of my uterus and explained that she could already see debris from my body beginning to break down the tissue of what used to be my baby.

At this point, I was originally supposed to be 10 weeks along but the baby was only measuring 7 1/2 weeks. 

When I got out to my car in the parking garage, I called my husband and told him through my tears that the baby did not have a heartbeat. He was, of course, upset, although not as emotional as me.

After hanging up with him, I called my work and explained what had happened to a co-worker (my work place had not known I was pregnant). I asked if I could take the day off. At her consent, I drove home and spent the day alone mourning the loss of my baby and trying to process what had happened.

Beginning the Grieving Process

It was a strange feeling of vague grief. I was extremely sad but did not entirely understand what I was grieving. I had lost something unbelievably special … Yet, there was no way for me to truly know what I lost because I never saw or touched it.

I called my mom to tell her the news and she was also very sad. After hanging up with her, I continued wandering around, crying, thinking, missing my baby and trying to understand what I was missing.

I sat on the deck of our apartment, I took a walk, I sat on the couch. It was such a difficult thing to comprehend. 

Read my post on How to Process Miscarriage Grief and Preserve Baby’s Memory – From Mamas Who’ve Been There.

I was anxious to start the physical process of miscarriage both to help me process what had happened in some tangible way as well as to get past this horrible moment as quickly as possible.

I was oddly contradictory in my feelings about moving on and “trying again”. I felt guilty for wanting to try again as soon as possible. Yet, at the same time, I wanted time to grieve and not rush into another pregnancy before I was truly ready. 

The day I found out my baby had died was a Friday so, thankfully, my husband and I had the weekend together to grieve.

We went out several times during the weekend to avoid sulking at home. We went out to eat, out for tea, and out to the store. It was a painful but precious time together. I would cry intermittently as we talked or as I sat thinking while we drank our tea.

I remember another shopping outing the next weekend when I couldn’t distract myself from the sadness in my heart. I contemplated the fact that, although I was still physically carrying our child, he or she was no longer alive.

I kept trying to figure out where I stood in relation to the people around me. A week and a half prior, I could have told the cashier that we were expecting our first baby.

Now, I could no longer say that. But I couldn’t quite say that I wasn’t pregnant either, as I still carried our deceased baby. I was even still having pregnancy symptoms.

I was so ready for my body to fully miscarry so I could get past this painful time which seemed to be dragging on and on. 

The Physical Miscarriage Process

At my next OB  appointment, the doctor said she was okay with continuing to wait and see if my body would miscarry on its own if I wanted to wait. Otherwise we could go the route of a D&C (dilation and curratage), a procedure to remove the fetal tissue and basically vacuum out the uterus.

I was a little scared of the pain involved with naturally miscarrying as I had read it felt like labor. On the other hand, I really wanted to experience physically passing the tissue so that I could have closure.

I was worried that if I had a surgical procedure and just woke up having not experienced anything consciously, I would never emotionally comprehend or accept what had happened. And, being partial to letting nature take its course, I did not think rushing into surgery was a wise decision.

It was about a week and a half after that heartbreaking second ultrasound that I started to bleed. I continued to have light bleeding consistently for another week and a half.

This entire waiting period, first waiting for the bleeding to start, then waiting to actually pass everything, felt like an agonizing eternity for me. I felt that as long as it dragged on, I could not truly move past this painful time.

And I wanted nothing more than for it to just be over. I don’t think I have ever experienced time moving so slowly for several weeks.

Finally, three weeks after finding out my baby’s heart was no longer beating, my cramps began to escalate one evening on the weekend. I took a pain pill the doctor had prescribed in anticipation of a horrendous and traumatic ordeal.

I took it too late for it to have any affect, which was just as well. It was painful, but not the unbearable pain I was expecting. It was basically like an extremely painful period.

The worst part was the overwhelming nausea I experienced. That part was pretty unbearable. It may be the worst nausea I’ve ever felt. 

The whole thing lasted a couple of hours. At first, I kept going back and forth between sitting on the couch and going to the restroom as what I suppose were contractions came over me causing me to need to have a bowel movement as well as expelling large amounts of blood.

As things progressed and it became more intense, I remained in the bathroom. I passed large blood clots several times before it eventually died down. 

Once it was over, I felt guilty about the fact that I felt amazingly refreshed and relaxed. I thought that I should be bawling, but instead I felt so good.

I’m sure it had something to do with the hormones. For some reason, my body felt as though it had been thoroughly cleansed and I had a sort of euphoria almost.

This wonderful feeling was short lived and the next several months held more emotional pain, hormonal imbalances, and frustration than I could have anticipated. 

Waiting for My Body to Heal

After passing the tissue that night, I bled for another couple of weeks, which, once again, felt like an eternity.

Throughout this whole process I had been seeing the OB doctor weekly. It was very difficult to sit in the waiting room watching happy pregnant women about to see their thriving babies on ultrasound while I waited to get another ultrasound to see if the tissue that used to be my baby was making progress in disintegrating. 

During one of these ultrasounds prior to passing the tissue, the ultrasound tech turned on the sound as though she thought there might be a heartbeat. I knew there would not be a heartbeat, but I so desperately wished there could be.

It tore my heart apart to hear the emptiness in my womb. It’s hard to put into words the depth of heartache I experienced during this time in my life. Sadly, there are so many women who understand completely.

It was only days after I stopped bleeding that I thought I had unintentionally become pregnant again. I was having several pregnancy symptoms and became convinced I was pregnant.

Although I would not have intentionally tried to get pregnant quite that soon, I was thrilled with the idea of being pregnant again. I felt it would help me heal and move on. 

My hopes were dashed with a negative pregnancy test a day before I started bleeding again, just 10 days after I had stopped bleeding.

I thought it was too early for it to be my period based on what I read online. I was thrown into emotional turmoil once again thinking perhaps I had retained tissue from the miscarriage.

This was incredibly disheartening and frustrating and painful for me. I so desperately wanted to get past this, and it didn’t seem like it was ever going to end. However, my fears were put to rest with another doctor visit where I was assured it was just my period.

Finally, this traumatic event was over. I knew I would forever mourn and miss my baby (and indeed I do),. But I was indescribably relieved to be done with the miscarriage process.

Continuing to Grieve

I had no idea it would take five more months for my hormones to straighten themselves out. I struggled with ever changing but almost constant pregnancy symptoms as well as intense mood swings and, unfortunately, a lot of anger directed at my husband who was extremely patient with me. 

Mostly, my anger was the result of my hormonal imbalance. However, I also had some legitimate anger towards my husband for not being as heartbroken as I was and for moving on so quickly.

I knew it was not and could not be the same grief for him since he was not the one carrying our child in his body. But it still felt frustrating to me. 

I must take a side track here because in it there is a message of hope.

There was a gap between how my husband and I viewed the miscarriage for a long time. I felt that gap until the day we had our anatomy scan when I was 19 weeks along with our daughter.

When we found out we were having a girl, my husband was pretty upset. He had been anticipating and looking forward to having a boy and didn’t know what he would do with a girl. 

That evening at home, he told me part of the reason he was so upset was because, during the ultrasound, he suddenly felt the loss of our first baby. He said we were supposed to have that experience with our first baby and we didn’t get to.

I think he was probably especially bothered by this because I had thought the first baby was going to be a boy. I think in that moment he felt the loss not only of our child but of his desired son. 

This was another painful but beautiful moment in which I finally felt my husband was on the same page with me in grieving over our first child. For ten months, I had felt alone in my grief while my husband seemed to be over it after that first week of finding out I had miscarried.

During those ten months, every time I brought up our first baby, my husband would try to comfort me by talking about our future baby. This bothered me because I did not feel that a subsequent child could take the place of the one we lost. 

But ever since that anatomy scan, instead of trying to mentally replace our first baby, my husband mourns with me, sometimes mentioning him with sadness.

I know that might sound depressing, but It actually brought a sort of healing to me to finally be able to connect with my husband in this way. I felt like he finally understood and shared something with me that I had been dealing with on my own. 

The reason I call this a message of hope is because I know there are women out there right now dealing with the pain of miscarriage and feeling like their spouse does not understand the importance of what has happened.

I didn’t think my husband would ever understand and share my grief, but now he does. And it has brought a sorrowful joy to my heart to see him come to love our unborn child as I always have.

Now, rewinding back to the months following the miscarriage.

Trying to Conceive Again

After our first post-miscarriage attempt to conceive, I was having several pregnancy symptoms and was nauseas to the point I was almost heaving as I got ready for work one morning.

I was so certain I was pregnant, I was planning to take the test at the four week mark and surprise my husband with the news on his birthday a few days thereafter. 

The morning I took the test, I was in compete shock at the negative result. Once the truth settled on me, I became so anguished and depressed, I could barely stop crying to drive to work several hours later.

After this devastating failed attempt to conceive, I told my husband I needed a break from “possibly” being pregnant all the time. I had been pregnant or possibly pregnant for six months without being any closer to having a baby.

For more on what to expect while Trying to Conceive After Miscarriage, read this post.

It can become so emotionally draining to constantly wonder if you’re pregnant. So he reluctantly agreed to prevent pregnancy for that cycle so that I could have a month off to let my emotions rest from the roller coaster.

Once we resumed trying to conceive, I had two cycles and almost two more months of my hormones continuing to cause me distress with their ever changing state which kept me emotionally unsettled.

It was as though my body was having a hard time moving on from the pregnancy. This made it incredibly difficult for me to move on in my heart.

Finally, roughly six months after discovering the loss of our child, my hormones seemed to settle down and normalize.

What a huge relief it was to feel like myself again! It was shortly after this that I became pregnant with our daughter who is now 9 1/2 months old. 

The Lessons My Baby Taught Me

It had been a long, stressful, painful journey, but I learned a lot though it.

I learned some practical things about miscarriage, like the fact that it can be a long process and getting back to normal hormonally can be an even longer process. I also learned that once you become a mom in some form, you are always a mom at heart. 

And the most important lesson I learned, the lesson my baby taught me, and perhaps part of the purpose behind my baby’s short little life, is the value of every single life, no matter age, size, or any other characteristic.

Even though no one ever saw my baby’s face and most didn’t even know he existed, my love for him is great and endless. It doesn’t matter that he was too young to breathe on his own or exhibit any particular personality traits. I will always love him.

As I stated earlier, my journey to motherhood is not unique. It is a sad fact that many women experience miscarriage, some multiple times. I personally know many women who have gone through one or more miscarriages, and I have read countless stories of this painful experience.

It is a very difficult thing to go through, particularly when you feel you must keep it a secret for one reason or another.

I have chosen to openly share my miscarriage experience and often speak of it to honor my child’s life. I want that special little life to be known in this world. I also want to be a source of comfort to other mamas who do not feel they can be open enough to ask for it.

When you look with sorrow and jealousy at the pregnant woman in the check out line in front of you, remember that it is very possible she has been in your shoes one or more times before and there is hope that you will be in her shoes one day.

I was in those sorrow-filled shoes not so long ago, clinging to the hope that I would someday be the mama of a living child … and now I hold hope in my arms.