The Miscarriage – Part 1: The Loss
Before you read this…
1. If you are pregnant or just had a baby do not feel guilty or afraid to share your joy with us. We are so happy and excited for you.
2. If you are still struggling with the loss of a pregnancy, proceed with caution. This post may cause your feelings of pain and sorrow to resurface.
3. I am going to share things with you that you are never supposed to say out loud. I ask that you please withhold judgement. Everyone handles the loss of a pregnancy differently. Trust me, this is not at all how I imagined I would respond to a miscarriage.
If you can agree to these things, I invite you to read more about the journey we have been on the past few weeks…
Ever since I stopped taking birth control, my cycle has been unpredictable. However, on August 17, when it got to be more than 30 days since my last period, I was highly suspicious. On top of that, my boobs were hurting and I was having evil outbursts if I went too long in between meals. Why are the signs of pregnancy and PMS the same?
When all signs pointed towards pregnant, I snuck into CVS to buy a home test.
I peed.
It said pregnant.
From the moment it said pregnant, I knew something was wrong. I didn’t have the instant, overwhelming feeling of pregnancy that I felt when I found out I was pregnant with Moanna. Where was the gross, on the verge of throwing up, pregnant feeling? Why aren’t I glowing with excitement?… Back up… I was excited, but not “I’m having a baby” excited. I was afraid. I knew something was not OK. I knew not to get attached. I just knew…
The next few days, I worked a lot. I worked more than someone who is pregnant should work. Most of the time I forgot I was pregnant. When I did remember that I was pregnant, it was when I was with Steve. We would talk about our growing family, and how excited we were for Moanna to have a little brother or sister. Still no pregnant lady queasies, but the narcolepsy was undeniable.
A week after the stick said pregnant, we were all playing on the couch before Moanna’s bedtime when I felt something. Period cramps. Not pregnant cramps. Period cramps. I could feel the difference. I went to the bathroom and found that I was spotting the slightest bit. Out of everything that was running through my mind, the one thing that was clear was, “I don’t want to tell Steve. I don’t want to hurt him.”
I told Steve, and he held me. He held me until I was ready to let go. What about his pain? His sadness? His questions? He didn’t seem to care. He just held me. He held me until I let go.
Steve helped me to bed, and then found his way to the computer to do research. He learned that unless you are bleeding heavily or are in intense pain, it’s best to stay home until the doctor’s office is open. His research also said many women bleed when they are pregnant and everything is OK, but I knew this was not OK. I knew when the stick said pregnant.
The next morning we went to our family doctor (the OBGYN is 45 minutes away). The doctor checked me out, and said that the only way to know for sure is to get a Quantitative HCG test today, and again in five days to compare. If it is a normal pregnancy, the numbers should go up. If something is wrong, the numbers will go down or not rise enough. The other option is to have an ultrasound. It is expensive, but may give you answers more quickly. To save money, we passed on the ultra sound. (NOTE: ALWAYS GET THE ULTRASOUND.) Until then, the only thing you can do is wait and see if something changes.
The next morning, something changed. I went to the bathroom and noticed a little more blood. I happened to glance down just before flushing, and there it was. I did not expect it to be so obvious. There it was. I was face-to-face with what used to be my future.
I didn’t know what to do, so I called Steve into the bathroom. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get past the shock without him. Maybe it was important for him to see it? Maybe he could verbalize the things that I thought I should be feeling in this moment? Part of me felt really morbid for wanting to show Steve, but I had no idea what you are supposed to do when this happens.
I showed Steve, and he held me. This time he was shaking. He held me and he shook. Eventually we found our way to the bathroom floor. We sat there for a long time. Silent. Empty. Blank.
If I didn’t have to pee, we may have sat there all day. I couldn’t hold it in any longer. It was time to move on. It was time to move past the silence. Steve left me alone. I stood up and peered into the toilet. I don’t know why, but I studied it for a few minutes. I wanted to really look at, to really see it. I took a deep breath and flushed. That was it. It was gone.
Is it totally messed up that I thought of flushing a goldfish down the toilet? Should I have said a prayer first? Would it have been more appropriate to bury it in the back yard? Is it bizarre that I scrubbed the toilet? Should I have taken it to the doctor? Crazy, huh? Those are the thoughts that I had in that moment. And, yes, I cleaned the toilet inside and out before I peed. It felt wrong not to.
Steve had to go to work and face his day as though nothing had happened. I stayed home and waited. I waited for the intense pain and severe bleeding. It never came. I waited for the overwhelming feeling of loss and sorrow. It never came. What is wrong with me? Why aren’t I devastated? Is it because I knew all along that it wasn’t safe to get attached? Am I heartless?
A few days later, I found it in myself to come clean to Steve. I asked him all of the questions that I had been asking myself. I said all of them out loud. I noticed I was afraid of my own voice. I was afraid of what I might say. I told him everything. I even told him about the goldfish. He said it was OK. He had thought about it too.
We talked for awhile. We agreed that we both felt very differently from what we had imagined we would feel when faced with losing a pregnancy. Steve thought he would be angry beyond comprehension. I was expecting to feel pain that I have felt when someone I loved died. We are sad, but are at peace. The most upsetting part has been knowing that we must wait even longer before our family can grow. Through this we have learned that we are even more excited about giving Moanna a littler brother or sister than we originally thought. We believe that all things in life happen for a reason, and that God has plans for us and our family. We trust that our life is going to take us to exactly where we are supposed to go. Among many other things, this has reminded us that we have an amazing family and amazing friends. For that alone, we are grateful for the blessings of this experience.
Unfortunately, this miscarriage has been very drawn out, and has brought many physical complications. Please look for the following posts in the coming days…
The Miscarriage – Part 2: Waiting to Move On
The Miscarriage – Part 3: From the ER
The Miscarriage – Part 4: To The OR
The Miscarriage – Part 5: The Post Op
The Miscarriage – Part 6: It Stings a Little
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wow! I am speechless. I am so sorry for your loss! I have recently had a couple of friends have miscarriages and have heard similar stories.
I’m so very sorry for your loss. I don’t think that anything you thought or felt was wrong. We all deal with these things in our own way and there is no wrong in that.
I’ve suffered 2 miscarriages myself, 1 in 2005 and another in 2007, both very early in the pregnancy. I, too, knew the 2nd pregnancy was doomed from the beginning, but tried to stay positive anyway. Those losses were the hardest things I’ve ever faced, and even now, 2 years after the 2nd one, my heart stil hurts for what should have been. We’re still waiting for our miracle. I pray every day for it.
Thank you for sharing your story. I think it’s therapuetic to talk about it. *hugs*
i am so very sorry renee. i can’t say that i’ve ever dealt with that or know what it feels like. but i do know how it feels to wonder what you’re supposed to think or do and just not know. thank you for sharing. it seems there are things surrounding pregnancy…miscarriages, complications, post partum depression…things that people just don’t talk about. i’m glad you said something. and i, too, know that God loves you and has a plan.
Renee:
There is one thing I have learned over the years that is irrefutible. You should never question how you are supposed to feel. Your feelings are your feelings and you should not be critical of them. They are what they are. The fact that you knew from the very beginning that “something was wrong” I doubt you made the attachment you would have if your feeling was ‘all was well and this is perfectly wonderful.’ You knew!!!!Don’t second guess yourself. In fact, I think you handled it all just perfectly. Speaking of “just knowing”; when I stopped by to see you the day you were going to meet your Mom, etal on Labor Day, I had the strong sense that ’something’ was wrong. I could sense it so I didn’t ask any questions and left soon. When your Mom told me of the miscarriage, I had an AHA moment. Didn’t know what was wrong but I knew it was ’something’.
Love you very much…..ALL of you. Grandma
There are no rules about how you should handle something this personal and profound except to do what you want and need to do to deal with it. Life is an adventure isn’t it? We just don’t know what’s around the corner from moment to moment. Despite your loss you are indeed blessed. There will be disappointments along the way but I’m thinking there will be many more blessings. Some you can’t even imagine yet. If you keep your chin up and your feet on the ground you’ll know them when they come.