This is a very real, raw, vulnerable, no BS story.
On December 6, 2018 I had a miscarriage.
It was the first time I was pregnant.
We weren’t trying, but we were not NOT trying. In fact, we were one of the lucky ones that got pregnant very quickly. And I do consider it luck because it’s truly a miracle to create another human.
I was over the moon, stunned, ecstatic, nervous, happy, scared – ALL the feelings were pumping when I found out we were pregnant. The only reason I knew to take a test in the first place was because my boobs were super sore and tender and felt huge (I didn’t have a period pretty much all year long, but that’s a different story for another time). I also found out we were pregnant a few days after our best friends’ wedding so naturally I got scared that my drinking would affect the health of the baby.
The first few weeks I felt pretty normal. Besides the tender, sore, “huge” boobs, I felt tired and a little weak in some of my workouts. But overall, normal.
Nearly every time I peed I got nervous though. I couldn’t help it. I had some spotting here and there, but nothing seemingly unusual (from what I googled). I prayed every day for a healthy, happy pregnancy, delivery, and baby.
That all changed on December 6th when I started seeing blood while I was peeing.
I thought it was weird, but tried not to worry. I kept busy and kept my mind on positive/happy things.
Fast forward to the end of the day and it was getting worse. I texted my sister Melissa and sister-in-law Giana whom are both in healthcare and they asked if I had cramps, which I hadn’t. They both said if it continued to call the doctor.
Kyle came home from work and very quickly convinced me to call my doctor. I could tell he was nervous.
The on-call midwife advised that I go to the ER for an ultra-sound or wait till the next morning to see my doctor. I chose the latter.
By the way, this all started happening 4 days before my 8-week ultrasound. I was 7.5 weeks pregnant when I started miscarrying.
On Friday, 12/7 I woke up incredibly nervous and anxious. I was now wearing a pad because I was full on bleeding. The doctor ordered lab work so they could test my pregnancy hormone levels.
Only my sisters, brother- and sister-in law, and nana knew I was pregnant. We were planning on gifting our parents on Christmas. I needed my mom more than ever right now, so we stopped at my parents’ house on our way to the lab center. I completely broke down the moment I opened the door.
After some time with her I pulled myself together and we went to get my blood drawn. I was a walking zombie. Emotionless but fully emotional. Like I was lifeless to the exterior, while fully immersed in the sorrow of sadness and grief.
I didn’t want to go home after. I wanted to keep busy and distract myself so it felt like a normal day. Home felt too real. I don’t even remember what we did but we took our time running nonsense errands until we needed to go home.
That night I had the worst cramps I had ever experienced in my entire life.
I was sweating and in pain, but determined to get as comfortable as I could so I could get some sleep. Physically enduring this meant that THE cramps had finally come. I knew the majority of it was going to be passing, it was just a matter of when.
The next day my mom took me to get a pedicure. It was nice to get out of the house for a little while. I felt calm yet still very emotional and lifeless. The chair massage felt so nice on my throbbing back too.
It was there, at the nail salon, that I passed the sac. It was very surreal. I wanted to lay on the bathroom floor and cry and scream and say good bye, but I couldn’t because I was at a public nail salon. I held myself together as much as I could, until my mom and I got into the car.
You see, I knew that a miscarriage meant that you passed a lot of blood and some tissue. What I didn’t know is that it dragged for days. It’s like you’re having a full, heavy, painful period for days at a time. Except it’s not just a period with some tissue– it’s a human.
For the preceding days following my miscarriage I stayed home and cried. Every time I went to the bathroom I cried. Every time I talked to a friend or family member I cried.
I had to go back to get blood drawn 3 more times so they could track my pregnancy hormone levels until they were 0. Every time I did that I cried. It was another reminder that life had been created and then literally poured out of me.
I cringed and cried at the sights and news of other people announcing their pregnancies. It’s not like I wasn’t happy for them, it’s that I was envious.
The week of Christmas absolutely sucked since I thought I was telling my family then. I thought I was giving my parents the best Christmas gift in the world.
I thought I was going to spend my 29th birthday celebrating for the last time as a family of 2. Even as I’m writing this, 8 weeks later to the day of my miscarriage – I’m crying.
I’m crying because I’m grieving. I am grieving the loss of a baby. I don’t care how far along a woman is in her pregnancy, a miscarriage is never easy. The moment you read POSITIVE, the moment you connect with that being.
Given this heart-wrenching experience, I feel lucky. I’m incredibly, overwhelmingly grateful for so much.
- I’m grateful that I got pregnant. And I’m grateful that we got pregnant naturally and so quickly.
- I’m grateful that I was home. And I’m grateful that Kyle was home and wasn’t traveling.
- I’m grateful for Kyle. His strength. His love. His support. His persistence for making me call the doctor.
- I’m grateful that I was as comfortable as I could have been given the circumstance.
- I’m grateful that I had feminine care products accessible.
- I’m grateful that my family lives close by, and my mom for consoling me.
- I’m grateful for the pedicure mom treated me to.
- I’m grateful I was able to easily take time off from work.
- I’m grateful for my health care providers, whom were compassionate, empathetic, and supportive.
- I’m grateful that I didn’t need a procedure.
- I’m grateful for my body’s ability to naturally cleanse.
- I’m grateful for my friends who gave me space, strength and love.
- I’m grateful for God – for His strength, guidance, sacrifice and unconditional love.
- I’m grateful that I’m able to share my story.
- I’m grateful for all the other women and families I’ve connected with from sharing my story.
Nobody talks about it while it’s happening.
And I understand why. It’s too raw and emotional. It also feels too real even writing this. And for some reason I think there’s a stigma around it.
But I want to help change the story and seemingly embarrassing stigma surrounding miscarriage.
It is not my fault. It’s not Kyle’s fault. It’s not the baby’s fault. It’s not God’s fault. It just is. It’s a miracle in-and-of-itself that a baby is created. Every single piece has to come together so intricately perfect that the moment a single piece is off or something goes wrong, the body senses something is wrong and rejects it.
Part of my purpose here in this lifetime is to help break open vulnerable conversations.
I want to help make the uncomfortable a little bit more comfortable. I wanted to share my story to help others (maybe even you) feel connected, empowered, and loved. My hope is to give you a sense of comfort, whether you’ve experienced this, or know someone who has.
Know you are not alone.
To all those who have miscarried, and to all those struggling with infertility – I pray for you. I pray that you keep your faith, strength, love, and hope, and I pray that you – and I – will carry happy, healthy beautiful children into this world.
Sending you, your families, and this Universe all my love and light.