I wrote this piece in the wee hours this morning before I had my doctor’s appointment. I was certain my ultrasound would show a deflated sac as I’ve seen in the past. It did not. My ultrasound showed a sac still in place in my uterus. It is too early to tell if my baby will thrive or not, too early to see a heartbeat or fetal pole so we wait. There are no indications of why the bleeding started or if it will continue or increase. I’m scared…but, for now, I am hopeful. I’m going to take it easy, enjoy a much-needed vacation, and monitor my bleeding. I’ll head back in for another ultrasound in two weeks as long as the bleeding doesn’t increase, we have reason to hope for a healthy pregnancy. Proof that there is hope, even from the vortex.
Yesterday, not five minutes after writing this…I started to spot. As the day wore on, the spotting slowly changed from innocent pink to brown, to alarming red. A signal that my bad feeling…was right. I woke up with bleeding much like a period and cramps, but it has decreased significantly through the day and is back to a calmer more reassuring brown. I cried because despite friends trying to give me hope, my heart was sure that my baby was gone. You see, I’ve been here. Here in this vortex that eats you, spits you out feeling bitter and alone. I wanted no one around me, I just wanted to wallow in my self-pity and the pain that I know what’s it like to lose a life that was supposed to be protected and nourished inside me. Despite two healthy children and being in the best shape of my life, it is possible that I still cannot sustain life…
I had a feeling this baby was a girl before I had a feeling that something went wrong. Me – I’m all about feelings and intuitions. I believe they guide us often and tell us what we need to know. Perhaps I was never meant to be the mother of a girl. Perhaps my family is full and blessed as it will ever be with two healthy little boys. My boys are my light. They broke me free from the vortex and gave me hope that life could change. And it did. My house is filled with toys, laughter, and so much of that light.
I could say that there is a lesson to be learned from losing a child – losing children. Honestly though, there isn’t. I appreciate and love my boys so much and know the value of pregnancy and life. Yet, it doesn’t mean that someone who hasn’t experienced loss doesn’t know those things as well. Perhaps the lesson is that life is fleeting. Miscarriage is not a punishment, although it often makes you feel as though it is. The lesson is that I am strong, but I still hurt. I will brush off, get back up. Yet I will likely not risk facing this again. One day my heart will forget the pain of loss and I might decide that we need one more baby, but I think that ship may have sailed for us. I won’t be greedy and beg for another. I will have days where I am bitter and sad, and don’t want to be pulled from my vortex. Just love me then, in spite of my actions.
Miscarriage, you suck. You steal from mothers happiness and leave them with empty wombs, bleeding bodies. You try your damnedest to make us feel like we are damaged, worthless. We aren’t. You try your best to make our husbands, mothers, aunts, and friends feel helpless. They don’t know what to say to us, what to do. We get angry for being treated different, but inside we appreciate the love, the hugs, the little messages to make sure that we’re okay. You rip families apart with grief and the wreckage of the unknown. There’s no handbook for loss. There’s no guide to what we’ll feel, say, or do.
So, miscarriage, I face you and I’ll beat you again. You may take the life the grew ever so briefly inside of me, but you won’t take me or my spirit. In the coming days, I won’t mope and I won’t wallow. I may cry in corners and at night when everyone else is fast asleep, but I will not let you change me more than you already have. I will enjoy the children you didn’t get a chance to steal. I will relish in my family and friends. I will be me…and that you can’t take.
If you come across this page because you have experienced loss yourself, my deepest sympathies are with you. I have been there, many times. There is hope for healthy babies, I have two. Four losses, two babies, and the threat of a loss that I’m still waiting out. I’ll leave you with the knowledge that life does move on and you do slowly start to feel better. You will always miss your baby and you will always be saddened by their passing. Take care of you, you are not damaged, you are not weak, and you did not cause this. That cup of coffee, sex with your partner, exercise, those things don’t cause miscarriage. It is okay to be angry, sad, even numb. Acceptance won’t come overnight and tears will sneak up when you don’t expect them. Be strong and know that you aren’t alone. If you need help to grieve, please reach out and get help. Don’t let the vortex swallow you – you don’t deserve that.