Today I'm Having A Miscarriage

Did you know that 1 in 4 pregnancies results in miscarriage? It’s like the best kept secret in reproduction education…Knowing this statistic, as alarming as it is, helps ease what I’m going through today. But I’m still sad.

I was pregnant…just one single minute ago…

Even though it was early, really early, I took 3 tests and they all said the same thing: pregnant. Yay! I wanted this baby. I’d only known for 4 days but already I was setting up OB appointments, planning how to share the news, figuring out how to manage the pregnancy, thinking about the kind of birth I wanted, looking at bigger houses and imagining what it would feel like to be a mother of two in only 7 ½ more short months. Now, instead of daydreaming…I’m hyperaware of every little teeny, tiny cramp in my uterus saying to me “You’re losing this baby. Right now. Here’s another little piece on its way out. Sayonara.” Now I’m stuck here wondering “What does this mean for me, about me…to be a woman who’s had a miscarriage…”

I did everything right. I know I did. Didn’t I?

Prenatals – check. No lunch meat – no problem. Maybe my body was still working on expelling all the hormones from the IUD I just had removed. Maybe it was one of the 50 times my toddler kneed me in the stomach as we co-slept together. Could it have been the paint fumes I inhaled painting my daughter’s room? I paid extra for no VOC…Could it have been those 2 glasses of wine I had this weekend? They were half wine and half water though because I’m a light weight who gets hungover after only 2 sips without ever experiencing any kind of buzz to make it worth it…So really, it was only 1 glass of wine…Could the celebratory lovemaking with my husband have shaken it loose? Could those few missing millimeters of my cervix removed due to precancerous cells have held this baby in? Rationally, I know the answer to all of these questions is no. But that doesn’t stop my brain from looking for something to blame. Blame would make this much easier to deal with. Having no answers and therefore no closure is what keeps my wheels turning…

To grieve or not to grieve…

I’m sad. Whether I consciously realize it or not, clearly, I’m already grieving. The question now is not whether to grieve, but how. How do you grieve something…someone…that was only ever really kind of there? Technically I’m losing a bundle of cells. But to me, they’re not just cells, they’re everything the cells represent. My little 5-week-old bundle of joy was already the size of a blueberry. I know this because 5 minutes after I found out I was pregnant, I downloaded 3 pregnancy apps to keep me updated with all the exciting developments. These cells, if they were able to stay with me, would turn into little baby kicks in just 14 more weeks, a person with facial features distinguishable on an ultrasound photo, a lifetime of joint birthday parties for my March and April children and so, so much more. I’m not grieving the loss of fertilized cells, I’m grieving the loss of a wanted child, a possible future and a whole lifetime of memories. All that after only 4 days…

When I walked into the bathroom last night and saw some pink on the paper I thought, hmm…must be implantation bleeding. I know this because I’ve read every possible description and every single comment on every single app and google site about recognizing symptoms of early pregnancy. I read these things because getting pregnant is not an easy task and it took me 7 grueling months the first time around, which in many instances, is actually pretty quick…I told myself, it must just be confirmation that baby is embedding herself (I had already decided it was a girl) deep into my uterine wall, getting nice and cozy for the long ride ahead. Back to bed. Back to the bathroom – more blood. Spotting is totally normal. Nothing to be concerned about. The next morning – this is not spotting…

It’s okay. It was super early. I can get pregnant again. I’ll have more babies. No big deal.

At first, I was unsure about what I was experiencing. Is it even still called a miscarriage at this point? Is there another name for it? A swing and a miss? Close but no cigar? Turns out chemical pregnancies, losses around week 5, account for 50-75% of all miscarriages. If 1 in 4 pregnancies end in miscarriage, that means there’s an incredible number of women who don’t even know they’ve lost a baby because it was so soon, they didn’t even realize they were pregnant. Would I rather fall into this category? My first thought is, you betcha!

What’s that saying…ignorance is bliss? Yea, some bliss would be good right about now…

Once I actually realized what was happening - that I was losing my pregnancy - I felt indifferent. I knew that it wasn’t the end of the line, that it truly was a bundle of cells and not an actual formed baby with limbs and features, and that I could try again next month or whenever I wanted. I woke my husband up to share the news “I’m bleeding. I’m losing the pregnancy.” I was met with a very sad face and a disappointed frown, but no actual words. I knew he was joining me in disappointment. Moving right along I let the dogs out, made the coffee and tended to my one beautiful existing child. The minutes ticked away, and I thought about it more. The more I thought, the sadder I became. Sad that I had to stop planning, sad that my body was failing me and sad because I think I may have actually had an early miscarriage once before when we started trying for our first child. Knowing what I know now about early fertilized cells expelling as tissue and what that might look like, I’m pretty sure I did actually have one. So now, in 10 minutes, I just went from being a pregnant woman, to a woman who’s had 1 miscarriage, to a woman who’s had 2. What does that mean? Who am I now?

I gave in to my own sadness and started ruminating as to whether my husband would have a “better” reaction after becoming a bit more conscious. When he came down from his shower I told him I was “pretty disappointed” with his reaction. He told me he was still processing and that he was getting more and more sad because he too, was getting really excited for number two. Fair enough. I wanted to give him time and space to have his own reaction but the second he closed the door to leave for work, the tears came flowing down and I felt alone. Really, that’s it? Jesus Christ man, a hug would have been nice…

It’s been on my mind all day and there’s more to process, more to identify and more to grieve. I’m looking forward to being very clear with my baby daddy about how I view this loss and what I’m feeling. I recognize that men and women often grieve these things differently and that its typically more intense for us because we have the physical component as well. But, I’m also looking forward to being sad together and not feeling so alone in my grief. I’d like us to honor this would be baby in some way, too. A name feels like too much at 5 weeks…maybe a plant? I’m not a plant person. I’d end up killing it which would be even more symbolic of the loss…maybe I’ll burn my miscarriage pads in a bonfire as a celebratory cremation…Ehh. That feels too eat your own placenta-y…I’m not sure what I’ll do. I’ll know it when I think of it. Something will feel right. In the meantime, I’m just going to honor my experience. Give in to my feelings. Ask my doctor 5 million questions she can’t answer. Eat every single piece of chocolate in the house. Smile a little wider as my daughter blows kisses to my chest after nursing and says “ba-byeee.” And maybe, just maybe…I’ll leave the water out of my wine tonight.