The bleeding started at 5 weeks gestation. It started as spotting- no big deal. I've had it before. I wasn't even too worried about the bright red blood. I had that with my second. But something was different this time. I knew. Even though I pretended not to know, I knew that something was really wrong. So I went to the doctor with no insurance and little hope. It was pretty pointless for me to go, except that I had applied for medicaid and needed to have a proof of pregnancy for my application. So, I got one while I was there. I couldn't afford to pay for an ultrasound out of pocket, and at five weeks, there was probably little chance of seeing anything anyway. So, after many tears and a very compassionate doctor telling me the only thing I could really do was wait and see or check hormone levels, which was also something I couldn't afford, I left the doctor's office. I scheduled a follow up appointment for two weeks later. When I got home, my husband said he was sure that the baby was going to be fine. I was not so convinced. I was still hopeful, and, stupidly, I still told a few more people that I was pregnant, but in my heart I already knew. I started to feel some of the pregnancy symptoms that I had been feeling before I started bleeding, and my hopes rose a little, but I knew. I just didn't want to admit it. The two weeks between appointments were extremely difficult. The unknown was ever haunting my thoughts. Even though I knew, I didn't have any proof, any confirmation.
I am ashamed to admit, it affected my children and my husband, and my motivation to be a good housekeeper- something I am not very good at anyway. Then, yesterday happened. Without going into much detail- I had an ultrasound and all that was left was a shriveled little sack-like thing. As the doctor kept looking, I waited, hoping, praying that he would find that little flutter of a heartbeat. But again, I knew. It wouldn't be there. Any life there had been was gone. My heart sank and the tears came. My doctor was the most compassionate, caring doctor in the world. I am so grateful for him and his good heart. He gave me permission to have a bad day. When I got home, I texted my husband and my mom and mother in law. My sweet husband came home from work to spoil me and take care of me and the boys for the day. As my mother said- he wins Best Husband Award. He told me he was glad I went to the doctor- that he had been afraid of what an ultrasound would reveal. I then realized just how vulnerable he- and every husband in a miscarriage situation- is.
We can't forget the men who go through this experience. They are grieving too. Although my body is physically experiencing this, my husband put just as much of himself- his love and hope- into this child. So ladies, remember your husband is hurting too. It's not all about you.
Now- I want to talk a little about the thoughts that I have had since the day I started bleeding. That first day, my friend informed me that she had miscarried at five weeks gestation. At that point, I knew. I had a premonition that I was going to experience the same thing. As I have contemplated it the last couple of weeks, I have come to the conclusion that this was meant to give me experience and empathy. I have always been someone who helps others best when I fully understand the struggles and experiences they have. I have felt inadequate when it came to miscarriage because I knew nothing about it. I had actually pretty much come to the conclusion that I was immune to miscarriage. It wouldn't happen to me. I get pregnant easily and I already have two kids from two pregnancies. There just was no way I could ever understand it. I have actually felt very guilty about how easily I have become pregnant. With friends and family who deal with fertility issues, I always felt like the biggest jerk because I didn't have that problem. Now I'm getting a small taste of that devastation. Two weeks ago- when this all started, as I was thinking about everything going on with me, my thoughts turned to a sweet relative of mine with PCOS. I remembered her telling me that while she was on fertility medication she had to take a pregnancy test every month. It dawned on me that, for someone with fertility problems, every period must feel like a miscarriage when you're trying to have kids. How frustrating and depressing that must be. And now, I know just a little of how it must feel.
A friend told me everyone grieves and experiences it differently, and she's right. I'm going to talk about the emotions and thoughts that I've experienced in the last two days. I want to curl up in bed and never get up again. I want to scream at the world and say just how unfair this is! I want someone to talk to, someone who will just hold me and let me cry without trying to fix it. I want to feel comfortable enough to talk openly about it without feeling like I'm dumping all of my problems on other people. I want to tell the world just how much this sucks. But, I feel that if I did all those things, people would say I complain too much, that millions of women deal with this and worse. I should just suck it up and not feel and definitely not talk about it. And maybe some women don't want to talk about it. Maybe it hurts them too much to talk about it. If that's the case, I respect that. But if you want or need to talk, but don't because it is "just not talked about", please, let your voice be heard. Do what you need to do to release the pain and heal.
I know this experience is meant to give me empathy for the millions of other women who experience this loss. I am grateful for that knowledge. I'm grateful for a loving Savior who is the only one who has ever lived who can have perfect empathy for everything I experience in this life. And I'm grateful to all of the moms out there who keep trying even after this enormous loss. I'm grateful to my mom, whose first pregnancy ended in miscarriage. Because she kept trying, I am here, and so are my siblings. I'm grateful for friends who understand and give support in these dark times.
I know this experience is meant to give me empathy for the millions of other women who experience this loss. I am grateful for that knowledge. I'm grateful for a loving Savior who is the only one who has ever lived who can have perfect empathy for everything I experience in this life. And I'm grateful to all of the moms out there who keep trying even after this enormous loss. I'm grateful to my mom, whose first pregnancy ended in miscarriage. Because she kept trying, I am here, and so are my siblings. I'm grateful for friends who understand and give support in these dark times.