That’s what the hospital discharge papers read. Never, ever in my life did I ever think my name would be associated with the word ‘abortion’. But the reality was that now, it would. It would be a part of my history; both medical and emotional.
We lost our baby. Our sweet baby we tried 18+ months to get. I was criticized for being “obsessed” with getting pregnant and once I finally did get pregnant, it didn’t last long. We were about 8 weeks along when I woke up one Saturday morning with blood pouring out of me. We prayed that the blood wasn’t what we though it was but unfortunately our worst fear had become a reality.
Now, we had the task of telling all of our friends and family that we were no longer pregnant. Thank God for text messaging, which made the task a tiny bit easier. When the phone calls came pouring in after the texts had been received, I made Evan lie to those who called and tell them I was sleeping. Truth was I couldn’t speak about the miscarriage without breaking down. I’d have moments where I was ‘ok’ and then moments of complete emotional devastation.
We spent the entire weekend crying, sleeping, drinking but mostly questioning why on earth this would happen to us. I remember thinking, ‘didn’t we go through enough with fertility struggles?’.
That’s the first thing our doctor said to us our first appointment after the miscarriage. I’m not sharing my story because I believe my miscarriage is a different or unique story. Countless women experience miscarriages every day just like mine. I remember speaking to a friend, a woman who had experienced multiple miscarriages, and she said simply, “it’s a bag of dicks.” And she is so right. I remember even quoting that to my doctor. There was nothing I could have done to change it, it was simply a bag of dicks.
Evan and I knew right away that we wanted to start trying to conceive again as soon as we possibly could. I was an absolute mess the entire time that we tried to get pregnant the first time. I would not describe myself as a patient person, not by a long shot. Friends complained that all I ever talked about was trying to have a baby. I couldn’t help it. I wanted to be a mom and when you are ready to be a mom, a single month of trying to conceive can feel like a lifetime.
I knew that the only way I was going to fully heal from this awful experience was to find joy in something else, another pregnancy and a baby. When the miscarriage first happened, we sulked, we cried and we felt sorry for ourselves. I’m not saying any of that is wrong, it was so important to our healing process. After the first week, and the initial shock and sting wore off, we had moved on to acceptance and were starting to look on the bright side. After 18+ months of trying to conceive and one miscarriage, we walked away with one thing: hope. We could get pregnant, it wasn’t out of the question. We took that tiny bit of hope and ran with it. The doctor recommended waiting a month before trying again and then told us, “there is no scientific proof that waiting will have any positive or negative effect on the next pregnancy and I understand you are going to do what you want.” And, that we did.
We were so fortunate to be able to actually conceive the very next month after our miscarriage. I hoped and prayed that it would happen, but didn’t expect it to happen. Fast forward nine months and we gave birth to our beautiful and perfect baby.
When I think back on our miscarriage, I know that it was truly a devastating time in our lives but I am so thankful for the experience. Struggling to get pregnant and having a miscarriage has given me so much compassion for a group of women, that honestly I never even thought about before. I have so much love, empathy and compassion for women who want so badly to be a mother and are struggling with becoming one. My heart pours out to you. I was in your shoes at one point. I may have a baby in my arms now, but I know your pain.
My journey to conceive may have been shorter than yours (in the grand scheme of things, 18+ months is absolutely NOTHING compared to what some couples have experienced), but I know what you are going through.
I can look back now and feel thankful for my miscarriage (without it, I wouldn’t have Rory) but I can still remember the days of obsessing over getting pregnant. I was one of you… I finally had to resort to buying the cheapo ovulation sticks because I had been through so many of the regular ones I was going bankrupt… I would stare at pregnancy tests for hours simply willing the second line to show up…. I had truly AWFUL thoughts when being invited to a baby shower… I suffered from awful hot flashes from Clomid… I would cry myself to sleep and leave my husband unsure of what to do to calm me… I obsessed over my temperatures and my cycle chart on my phone… I spent time laying on my back with my legs up after intercourse just in case those suggestions held truth…I researched any possible vitamin, supplement or possible remedy that promised to get me pregnant… I gave up caffeine for a while and even alcohol… I prayed endlessly that the different medications and combinations of medications would finally be the one to get us a baby.
If you are suffering from infertility, you should know that your pain is absolutely valid. If you need a shoulder to cry on or an ear to vent to about miscarriage or infertility, I will be there. Any day, any time. If you need an understanding and non-judgemental friend to listen when you rant about how EVERYONE else is getting pregnant or that you got invited to ANOTHER baby shower… call me. You are not alone and your pain is not insignificant. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel your pain and heartache isn’t important.