Warning: This post contains material that some consider taboo or disturbing. Please skip this post if you need to.
I removed this post a few weeks ago because everything was still too raw, but now I'm putting it back up. I am ready to share my experience, not only to show I am not ashamed of my miscarriage, but to encourage any other moms out there who are going through the same thing. I remember the first thing I did when I got home from that sad ultrasound was to trawl the internet for others' stories. Friends' blogs, strangers on forums, anything I could find. To read through teary eyes the stories of sadness, grief, strength and resilience was exactly what my heart needed, even before I was ready to talk to anyone, even Joe. If anyone reads this and feels less alone, then I am super grateful...
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| Sisi the night we told our family the good news about baby #2. |
Day
1: I went to the ultrasound today with a seed of
worry, but mostly expecting to see a healthy baby about the size of a
fig. Or else I wouldn't have brought my 2 year old with us. Instead,
I saw big black womb with no signs of life. No baby at all,
just a sack measuring 9.5 weeks. I remember when Sisi was 7
weeks, her tiny gummy bear sized body leaped off the screen. I
could spot her beating heart immediately. This time, as the
ultrasound tech searched and searched over every inch of my stomach,
I saw nothing, and that awful dread came over me. The
transvaginal ultrasound revealed the same thing... a blaring
nothingness.
I
cried and cried while the ultrasound tech offered condolences. I
tried to hold it together for Sisi's sake, but couldn't stop from
wailing. Scared, Sisi buried her face into Joe's pant legs. I
don't think she's ever seen me totally lose it like that. "Mommy's
really really sad, honey, but we'll all be okay," was all I
could muster. Her response, "I think I want to eat
plantain chips." Hehe, 2 year olds often change the
subject.
I
went home, baked a cake, and called my best friend who cried with and
prayed for me. I called my midwife who explained that it's not
my fault, and it's best to let the body "do what it needs to do"
instead of make this a medical emergency. In other words, we
need to wait for my body to push out a 9.5 week sac, along with tons
of blood and tissue. I'm so excited :/
And
now, I sit in confusion. I feel tricked. I feel like a fool.
This whole time I've been dreaming and gushing about baby that
wasn't really there. My list of boy names that end in vowels is
still on my desk. We really had to wrack our brains. Leo.
Theo. Tony. Cody...
Since
my midwife hasn't seen the ultrasound yet, I still don't know exactly
what caused my miscarriage. Why was there no baby? Why
was my body holding onto this empty sac for so long?
This
didn't come totally out of the blue, which is why we were having an
ultrasound in the first place. My hormone levels tested lower, but
still in the range of normal. I had very minute spotting, but
none of the telltale cramping or bleeding, which we thought was a
good sign. I experienced absolutely no nausea like I did with
Sisi, which made me nervous, but I chalked it up to a healthier diet
this time around. The few pregnancy symptoms I did have
(fatigue, intense hunger) went away at about 9.5 weeks, exactly when
the sack stopped growing. The spotting happened right after I told
all my closest friends about the pregnancy. Figures! Now
I need to write that sad follow-up email.
I
know I'm not alone in this. I know God has a plan and it's the
best one. I'll grieve this loss in the same roller coaster way
I grieved my dad three years ago. I still have my sweet girl
Sisi to cuddle and cherish. I have my wonderful husband who is
out buying me sushi right now.
Day
2: Last night I woke up several times and couldn't get
back to sleep. My stomach twitched a few times, kind of like
braxton hicks contractions, but no bleeding. I've been feeling these
twitches for weeks now, and naively thought my tiny baby was just a
really strong kicker. Now I know my body was preparing to expel it.
In
the still of the night, I kept telling my body it can let go now. For
a few minutes I even felt proud, just thinking about how hard my body
has tried to hold onto this pregnancy. A for effort. But
you can give up now, and let it go. God saw fit to take this
one away.
Sisi
woke up a few times, too, sobbing in her sleep. I know that
this miscarriage is affecting her, it's just hard to know on what
level. In the morning, I lay in bed for a long time, not
wanting to get out. But when you have a toddler, you have to grieve
on the inside, at least until nap time. On the outside, it's
business as usual. We went to the post office, Trader Joe's, I
made her lunch, and tucked her in for a nap.
She
was really clingy today, and asked about the baby. She said,
"Now I can squish it??" I had to hold my laughter in.
She's been asking if she can "squish it" since we
told her about the baby weeks ago. I used to tell her, "No
honey. Baby is tiny and fragile. We need to be gentle
with my tummy." Now my response is, "I thought there
was a baby in there, but there's not. So yes, you can squish
it. But not too hard."
Now
that the house is quiet, the tears are flowing again.
I
spent her naptime doing exactly what I shouldn't do. I googled
"natural miscarriage at 11 weeks: what to expect". Horror
story after horror story. I'm in agony waiting for the
inevitable. I know I'm capable of handling a "mini-labor"
at home, because I handled a "mega-labor" at home. But this
time there will be no reward for the pain. No precious baby to
hold. On the other hand, I'm glad I will only be passing a sac,
not a baby. My midwife said it will be a bit easier since the
sac is soft and there won't be as much to pass. Like a very
intense period. She also said many of her patients consider
home-miscarriage "empowering." Hmm, we'll see.
I
wish it would just happen today. Now. Let's get this over
with. I want my body to be empty and ready to heal. I'm
already thinking about another pregnancy. Is that crazy? Is
that like buying a new puppy the day your dog dies?
Day
3: My midwife gave me a diagnosis- "blighted
ovum". The fetus either never formed after implantation,
or died early on and was reabsorbed. She called it a "trick
pregnancy" because the body thinks it's still pregnant and is
continuing to nurture an empty sac. That's why the blood tests
often come out normal, and the mother might not find out she's
miscarried until the doctor can't find a heartbeat in the second
trimester. I'm just glad I found out now instead of weeks from
now.
I'm
doing okay today. Just constant low-level sadness. We
made it over to a neighbor's house for a playdate, and I only teared
up twice. Once when my neighbor asked how my pregnancy was
going, and again when Sisi started feeding a little baby doll a
bottle.
Yesterday,
Joe tried to give me my magnesium supplements to take, and I snapped,
"What's the point? I don't need them now!" He
gently corrected me, "Everyone needs magnesium, not just
pregnant women." So I took them. I'm finding it hard
to nourish myself now.
Still
waiting for the mini-labor to begin. I keep having painless
"practice" contractions, and each time, my heart jumps and
I think, "It's happening!" And then nothing happens. I've
stocked up on pads (I despise pads), advil, epsom salts and raspberry
leaf tea.
Day
4: I've lost my innocence about pregnancy. I am now having
a hard time trusting my body. After all, my brain has known
about my miscarriage for 4 days now, and I'm still waiting for my
body to get the idea.
Previously,
I liked the minimal intervention approach. No ultrasounds, or
maybe just one to find out the sex if you're impatient like me. I
liked that my midwife typically holds off on using the doppler at
every visit because, in her words, "It sounds like a freight
train to your baby."
But
you better believe next time I'm having an ultrasound at 7 weeks.
And next time I'll be requesting the doppler at each and every
visit. I'll do progesterone testing the MINUTE I get that
positive pregnancy test. I will probably do progesterone
supplements before I even get pregnant. Judge me if you will crunchy
moms, call me paranoid, but I will never go through this again. I
don't mean that I won't go through a miscarriage again, because only
God knows what's in store for me. I mean that I will never walk
around at 11 weeks lovingly patting my baby bump... only to find out
it's empty. That will not happen again.
I was
planning on surfing tomorrow morning. It's one thing I always miss
when I'm pregnant. I think the cool ocean spray and salty water would
be good for me. Then I realized there have been great white
sharks spotted recently, and what if I started bleeding during my
surf session? Would they go for all the guys out there, or the
one lady who is bleeding profusely? I told Joe, "I am
already dealing with a miscarriage. The last thing I need is a
shark attack." And we both started cracking up in that
moment, because it sounded so absurd. But I'm serious, I'm not
going surfing tomorrow.
I
took Sisi to the mall to admire the Christmas decor and ride the
carousel. I got choked up anytime I saw a pregnant woman. I
got even more choked up if she had a toddler in tow. "That
should be me!" I thought. Then it hit me- there must be
women who see me with my beautiful baby girl, and maybe they get
choked up because they lost a child or could never get pregnant. It
made me both sad and grateful. You just never know what someone
has gone through.
Day
5: Farmer's market trip. Actually in a decent mood
(the sunshine?), and enjoyed picking out ripe produce.
Grief
is interesting. Is it possible to get better at it? I
feel like I'm getting better at it. I think I submit to grief a
little faster now. I don't arm wrestle with it anymore. I've walked
through nightmares that I never thought imaginable, my dad's suicide
being the worst. I realize that anything can happen, ANYTHING,
and I'm no longer that surprised when trials come. Trials are a part
of life. In fact, God ordains them, not as punishment, but as a
means of growth. I do understand that in my soul.
I
don't try to bargain with trials, because there is no bargaining with
God. There are no take backs. Nothing I do or don't do
with bring this baby back.
I
*try* not to get angry or take my grief out on others, but I find this is the hardest part. It's easier to get angry at the people
around you than at God, or the person you lost. I've tried so
hard to treat Sisi kindly and patiently, but I have been snapping at
Joe and feel some resentment. This baby was both of ours, but I
have to carry the physical burden.
Day
6: Late last night I woke up at 3am with very mild
cramping. I noticed the cramping was coming in waves-
contractions. With each contraction, a fair gush of blood.
Needless to say, I didn't sleep much last night. I read
Vogue in the bathroom and tried not to wake Joe up. No pain
(thanks to a steady stream of advil) just some fear and anxiety that
I tried to breathe my way through. Breathing really helps.
I got
flashbacks from Sisi's birth. I remembered how at 3am, I woke up to
my water breaking, and then mild cramps, just like these. And
then everything accelerated so quickly that I found myself pushing
just a few hours later. What an amazing experience that was.
It was the hardest thing I'd ever done, but I felt like
superwoman after. Like I could do absolutely anything.
I
think this miscarriage is good practice for another birth, Lord
willing. I don't think I'll be scared at all next time, for
this is much harder. Not pain-wise, but emotionally.
This
afternoon, as I was making brownies, I started to feel woozy. I
ditched the brownies, lay down on the couch, then instantly felt
dizzy and nauseated. I blacked out on the way to the bathroom
and landed face down on the bed, speechless, sweaty and exhausted.
After that, I passed a deluge of blood and clots while sweet
Joe massaged my back (I now have a better understanding of what "back
labor" must feel like, and I feel so sorry for you!). Then I stopped bleeding, and I now feel
great. Well, relatively speaking. We shall see if there
is more to come.
Day
7: There was indeed more to come. At 3am (apparently,
that's when my uterus likes to party) I passed lots more stuff.
Enough said. The whole process was very similar to the
early phases of childbirth, plus the afterbirth. Anyway, I think the
worst of it is over. I am only spotting now, and look and feel
totally un-pregnant. I can't remember the last time my abs were
this flat- all the contractions I suppose.
I'm
really tired and I cry easily, but I'm doing ok. I agree with
my midwife that doing this miscarriage naturally was strangely
empowering. It was the closure I needed. I had to watch
this pregnancy literally dissolve right in front of me. My body
did what it needed to do when it was positively sure this pregnancy
wouldn't work out. It's all kind of amazing.
I'm
hoping to visit my friend's beautiful newborn today, and hoping I can
keep it together. Just because I get sad when I see bumps and
babies doesn't mean I'm not ecstatic at the same time. I'm truly
ecstatic for my friend. I can feel both emotions simultaneously
without having to feel guilty, right?
In a
week, I'll have an ultrasound and blood test done to make sure
everything has passed and that my body is back to normal. If my
miscarriage wasn't thorough enough, I will have to go in for a D&C
procedure. I really hope I'm all clear. I would hate to
have gone through all of that, only to need surgery anyway. Hoping
and praying.
Anyway,
I'm looking forward now. I will treasure this extra time that
we now have as a family of three. Bonus time :) But I imagine
I'll always get sad around our lost baby's due date, 6/10/2014, and
think about what might have been. As the five friends I was
pregnant with go on to have their babies, I will no doubt feel a
mixture of emotions (but mostly joy, I'm sure!) Once again,
that doesn't make me a bad person. It makes me a real person
who has suffered a real loss.
Update: 3 weeks later.
It's kind of weird how right after I found out we lost the baby, I longed to be pregnant again. I think it was a form of denial- just wanting to undo everything like magic. Now, I can't even imagine being pregnant right now because I'm still grieving. Not the intense, weepy, distraught grief I felt in the beginning. It's a subdued, pensive grief, totally undetectable to others. Also, my body is still grieving, as I'm not done passing everything. I could be bleeding for quite a while I'm told. I won't physically be able to get pregnant for a while longer, so maybe by the time my body is ready for a baby, my heart will be, too. We shall see.
My very wise friend Lacey wrote these words to me in an email, "Grief isn't always about sadness; sometimes it's also about the mental journey of grappling with a different life than what you expected." How true is that? I've got a bit more grappling to do.
I also feel bad for saying "there was never a baby." Sounds so disrespectful. Blighted ovum is strange, because there is no detectable baby. But God did form a little life in my womb, even if it didn't survive long. Life is amazing and miraculous, no matter how tiny.
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