Tuesday February 26, 2013 was a significant date. It marked the one-month anniversary of finding out I was pregnant for the first time, and it was the scheduled date for my first prenatal appointment. People talk about the Two Week Wait being a trying time, but I felt more impatient waiting for the first prenatal appointment. I was looking forward to it, but it felt like I had to wait so long for confirmation that my pregnancy was progressing normally.
This was a planned and much longed-for pregnancy. A combination of events precipitated by the 2008 recession — most notably, a loss of both stable income and health insurance with maternity coverage — meant DH and I had waited for a long time to be in a position to conceive. When I finally did, I stared in happy shock and disbelief at the second pink line that began to appear after only 30 seconds. I was pregnant, and in spite of my endometriosis too! After years of envying my friends who had had children, I was over the moon that it had finally happened to me too.
The mild cramping I felt throughout my short pregnancy was apparently related to my endometriosis, and proof that my uterus was stretching and growing. Perfectly normal, and I welcomed it as a new but familiar friend.
Then it stopped.
Uneasy, I called the hospital I had yet to visit and explained that I was concerned about an absence of symptoms. The nurse said that as I wasn’t experiencing cramps or spotting I shouldn’t be concerned. After a few days without seeing any signs of miscarriage, I put my feelings down to first-time first trimester nerves. I reminded myself that from here on in it was going to be a lifetime of worry and tried to push my short-term realistic worst fear out of my mind.
As the days went by, my sore boobs grew a full cup size and I began to relax a little. The absence of morning sickness only concerned me slightly. (I have since learned that DH privately worried about this.) I felt great, so happy, so positive, nothing could be wrong! We even started telling close friends and family. First thing in the morning, last thing at night, and the quiet moments in-between, I began talking to the little embryo, my hand over my lower belly, telling him or her to grow, and grow strong. A mantra for what I wished for my child: that he or she would grow to be a healthy, brave, smart, beautiful, and kind little person.
On our way to my first prenatal appointment I realized my boobs didn’t feel as sore. A couple of hours later, my worst fear was confirmed: the baby stopped developing a couple of weeks ago.
As soon as I saw the little blip in my uterus, I knew something was wrong. Not because I know anything about ultrasound, but because it looked smaller than I was expecting. Coincidentally, I found a friend’s ultrasound in the back of one of the many pregnancy books she so kindly sent me. Like me, she’d had her first ultrasound at 8 weeks and 3 days, but her baby had been larger.
Most crucially, there was no fluttering of the tiny heartbeat I had so hoped to see. Instead, I felt my own heart pounding in my chest as the blood drained from my face. Even though I was lying down, I felt like I was going to pass out or be absorbed by the table. I heard my voice ask hoarsely, Is this bad news? and felt DH’s hand reach over and squeeze mine. In that gesture, I felt his comfort and his own pain.
There was the yolk sac… there was the embryo, and over there was the corpus luteum on my left ovary. Not a blighted ovum, as I had worried, but it didn’t look like the pregnancy was viable. I should have been 8 weeks and 3 days, but it was measuring at 5 weeks and 6 days — an 18-day discrepancy suggesting possible Intrauterine Fetal Demise.
More tests were needed. Bloodwork to confirm my A-negative blood type, detect the presence of any antibodies, and track my hCG levels. A second hCG test a few days later. A second ultrasound in a week, by which time the tiny baby may have grown large enough to find a visible heartbeat.
Later, I traced the 18-day discrepancy to February 8, the day I called the nurse. I guess I am very much in touch with my body but am not sure if this is horrifying or comforting right now.
My first hCG results came back at 31,877 – high, but not so high to suggest a molar pregnancy. Three days later, the second test revealed they were falling: down almost 1,000, confirming ahead of the second ultrasound what I already know in my heart: see, if I really were only 5w6d, that would mean I would have conceived after taking 4 pregnancy tests on 4 consecutive days, before having a 5th test at Planned Parenthood, all of which came back positive. A single positive test, the doctor explained, could mean I happened to catch ovulation. But 5 test means it’s looking like it’s a missed miscarriage, and that’s that.
Unless nature takes its course, I will have an induced abortion to eliminate the risk of sepsis; a pill called Misoprostol. Contractions should begin between 1-7 hours later; if not, I take a second dose 48 hours later. A follow up 8 days later. I could bleed for a few days, or I could bleed for 2-3 weeks. It might be like a period, or it might be a gushing blood. But I should only worry if I go through one heavy duty pad an hour for four hours. Then it’s time for the ER. Either way, I could still require a D&C to make sure that all tissue has been expelled.
I don’t know how I am going to be able to cope with seeing pregnant ladies — including my SIL who is due with her second child in August. We were both looking forward to sporting big bellies together this summer. Having suffered 2 miscarriages and a molar pregnancy herself, she offered to talk and answer any questions I might have, but I can’t bear to take her up on her kind offer.
And the final slap around the face is that when I logged on to Facebook the following morning, the very top story in my news feed is from an old school friend of mine announcing that she is going to become a mummy in September. Fresh tears flowed, so I have logged out and deleted the apps on my phone and iPad. I must protect myself from further upset, however silly it may seem to others. The jealous monsters are here to stay for a while.
So sorry you had to go through this. I know how you feel. My experience was so similar. Hugs. xx
Oh honey, virtual hugs for you.
I have, over my child bearing age, suffered 4 miscarriages at various stages (1 in the 2nd Trimester unfortunately). 2 I had were last year (both about the same time as you, somewhere between 5 and 7 weeks). My cousin was a week ahead of me in her pregnancy. She now has a bouncing baby. My SIL was 2 months ahead of me. She too has her bouncing baby.
I too removed myself from situations where I could. I did find it hurtful that for 1 hour a week all my SIL seemed capable of doing was talking about her pregnancy.
Will I tell you it will get easier? No, because I think I would be lying. You learn to deal with it. I am now pregnant, and all is going okay, yet as I feel this one grow, I think to my others. What would they be doing now? What was it about them that meant they weren’t sticking around, yet this one seems to be thriving?
I, and many others, have gone on to have successful pregnancies, which is fabulous. But you will always miss the one(s) you lost.
Good luck for the future, when you feel ready to try again. I hope your next pregnancy is a rainbow xx
Hello Ingrid,
I appreciate your candour, I really do. I especially appreciate knowing that someone else felt these complicated feelings towards one’s SIL. It’s not that we wish them harm (far from it!) but it is such a deep and painful reminder of our loss. I don’t know when I will ever stop thinking (SIL baby’s age) – (2 months) = what would have been… Thank you for letting me know I’m not crazy and that things will get easier.
I’m sorry for your multiple losses and wish your little pilgrim a safe voyage into this world.
Much love to you both xo
Hi, I found this site through twitter. Someone re-tweeted one of my twitter pictures about miscarriage. I just wanted to share a little, to maybe let you know you’re not alone. I know nothing I can say can make you feel better, but maybe something I say will comfort you maybe just even a little.
December 30, 2011 my husband who didn’t want any kids, gave me the best birthday present anyone could ever imagine, he had finally decided he wanted a child and we would start trying immediately. I, knowing I was put on this earth to be a mother, was more than overjoyed. When other little girls were asked what they wanted to be when they grew up, they responded, doctor, vet, astronaut, ect. I always responded, mommy. I knew that was my calling. It always has been, it’s what my heart longs for. March 12, 2012, I finally got a positive pregnancy test. I had always imagined what I would do when that day would finally come, I envisioned myself collapsing to my knees, tears of joy streaming down my face… blah blah blah… None of that happened… I just stood there, looking at the results, shocked, flabbergasted really. Then of course reality set in, the tears came, and my heart was truly happy. We ended up telling everyone within the week. I went on mother-in-law/daughter-in-law trips to Babies-R-Us and bought several unisex baby items, and ended up collecting alot of baby stuff before my ER visit due to spotting and cramps (the nurse at the ER laughed in my face and told me I was ignorant and this was completely normal but I knew something wasn’t right)… Which landed me a speedy appointment with my doctor, (I had already had a 10 week appt set because she was so booked, but they managed to squeeze me in a few days after my ER trip). So there I was 8 weeks and 1 day on April, 2, 2012, in my doctors office, they tried to tell me everything seemed fine and shoo me out the door, but I begged, pleaded that they please let me see my precious baby, just so I could rest easy knowing everything was okay… So they finally agreed and sent me to the ultrasound room. My husband video recorded the whole thing, even the part when the doctor took a picture of a small black oval with a little white bean shaped speck… I knew when she didn’t say “Look there’s your baby!” there was a problem. She slowly grabbed my hand and said, “Tessa, I don’t have good news”. My baby had stopped growing at 6 weeks. My heart plummeted into my stomach. I just looked at my doctor with tears in my eyes, voice breaking and begged, “No… Please, no…” This is when my husband realized he should’ve already stopped recording. I still have the video. I can’t make myself get rid of it. It seems like the only thing I have left that proves my baby actually existed at one time, That it all really happened… Right now, almost a full year later, it all seems like a nightmare that I am slowly waking up from and trying to decipher whats real and whats not. And unfortunately it was all very real. You’re not alone. I know our situations are probably very different, but I can understand. I know the pain is like no other. I know everyone is different, but I still hurt. It’s not as fresh, and not as deep, but there are days that I just cry my heart out. I believe I’m just now starting to get to the point where I’m emotionally stable enough to feel as if I’m ready for a baby again. I know God has a plan, and I trust him with it. I’m so sorry that anyone has to go through this pain. I pray happiness and healthy full term babies for both of us.
Hello Tessa,
I really appreciate you coming by to tell your story. Thank you for finding the courage to share it. I am honoured that you felt you could do so here.
The first thing I want to say is, here’s a big hug for you. I’m sorry the nurse laughed at you. That wasn’t very compassionate of him/her. Like you, I am very in touch with my body, and I am trying to find comfort in that.
Your story runs parallel to mine — similar dates, missed miscarriage. I know something of your heartbreak, and I am glad that you are beginning to feel strong again. A couple of years ago, a friend of mine wrote to me about her miscarriage: she said “The way I see it, we’re going to have a great baby another time”, and that brought me some comfort. I hope you find it comforting too.
Was it you who created that piece of artwork? I quoted it in #5 in this post but attributed it to Stephanie Paige Cole. Should I have put your name / Twitter handle instead? Please let me know if I should correct it and I will be glad to do so. It was a lovely piece of artwork.
Much love to you,
Lauren
There is comfort in alot you’ve said on this and many of your posts. It is so strong of you to post these experiences of yours, I really think if I had somewhere to look to get answers to my questions, it would have helped alot. I want to thank you for doing this for others.
And yes, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to let myself forgive that nurse… part of me wants to waltz up in that ER and tell her she was wrong just to make her feel bad for ever treating me like that, but it wouldn’t fix anything. I am very in tune with my body, and I too am very thankful for that.
Yesterday was my year mark for finding out I was pregnant… There was definite sadness, not near as bad as my due date, but that too was not as bad as I expected myself to be. I think my advice to you is to let yourself grieve. I instead turned to things I never should have, on my way home from the doctor that dreadful 4-2-12, I made my husband stop at the liquor store and get me a fifth of Jack Daniels… I don’t know what I was thinking… I think maybe I was mad at God and I felt like that would be a slap in the face to Him… and for that I am truly sorry. Regardless, the moment I got a hold of myself and just let myself grieve, things started getting better. I would just say out loud exactly how I felt, it took a few months, but the utter sadness that had overcome me was finally leaving. I could smile again without having to fake it due to thoughts running in the back of my mind. And I still do this from time to time, some days are just harder than others, some days I wake up and I can’t seem to shake it, these are the days I cry out. Once I got a grip of myself, Jeremiah 29:11 helped me tremendously, and also Psalms 34:17-18. I really hope you don’t mind me throwing out Biblical things, last thing I want to do is offend you.
Anyways, the picture I posted I did not create. I had found it on pinterest and to my knowledge, it did not have the original artists name. I just snapshot it and re-posted.
I hope I’m not bothering you with my long posts. I just hope something, anything I say to help. I hate that even you, a complete stranger, has to feel this torment. You truly are in my prayers.
Hey Tessa,
Thank you so much for your meaningful words. I’m really touched by what you’ve said. I can only respond to my personal tragedy my way — still, I did hope that someone else out there would find comfort in my experience, so telling me that my words would have helped you a year ago and giving me your thanks is a huge compliment!
Yeah, I am dreading my due date as well. It’s funny how we cope with grief, isn’t it? Don’t worry about reaching for the booze. We all make the best decisions we possibly can given the circumstances. I’m not a counselor, but I’d say the main thing you didn’t continue to drink. Instead, you faced your grief head on. Well done, girl! It’s not an easy thing to do.
I don’t have a Bible near me, so perhaps you could expand on Jeremiah 29:11 and Psalms 34:17-18? I’m curious to know what it was that gave you comfort, and maybe it would comfort someone else reading this? Also, thank you for respecting my non-beliefs, and, no, you haven’t offended me in the slightest :) I respect your belief and you are welcome to talk about your personal relationship with God if you would like to.
I love your ‘long posts’. It’s meaningful to connect with a stranger who has shared in this lonely experience.
Thank you for keeping me in your prayers. You are in my good thoughts :)
Big hug to you and your little angel!
Lauren xo
I think you really start to nail it at the end…”The jealous monsters are here to stay for a while.” There is something all-consuming about grief. I hope to hear more. xoxo
Thank you, friend xx