I Had a Miscarriage.
I had a miscarriage.
And I remember every painful detail about it.
It was month 6 on our TTC journey, and the beginning of October, specifically October 7, 2016. It was a Friday.
It was like any other day so far, bumbling with excitement and looking everything up I could on the internet about being newly pregnant. According to my last menstrual cycle I was a little over 7 weeks pregnant. I had had some cramping the previous night during a final for an HR course I had taken but thought that it was just my uterus stretching and making room for this new life I was creating or the stress of having to give a presentation to a class full of people (this is like my worst fear).
It was about 8:45 am when I decided to use the restroom and when I wiped, there it was: bright red blood. My stomach sank, my heart raced, and my mind became fuzzy. I worked with my husband at the time so all I could think about was getting to him. We had had a fight that morning, probably because of my hormones, but all of that didn't matter when I walked into his office trying to hold myself together.
I blurted out “I’m bleeding. We need to go.”
His eyes widened into the "deer in headlights" look. He said ok and talked to those who needed to know we were leaving as I made my way out to my truck.
We headed to urgent care because this was urgent right? This wasn't an emergency room visit, it wasn't an emergency. Even though my world was crashing down around me I tried to keep telling myself that it was ok. People bleed all the time in the beginning of pregnancy, sometimes, even heavy, and everything turns out fine. This wasn't an emergency.
But in urgent care they didn't have an ultrasound machine and sent us on our way to the hospital. The closest hospital to us was in Encinitas so we went there. Another 20 minute drive with my thoughts.
We checked in and I used the bathroom again. The bleeding had stopped.
There’s hope.
We were finally brought back after what seemed like eternity and placed in a room where a nurse drew blood. She left the IV in the crook of my arm and fuck was it painful. Any little movement sent pain shooting through my shoulder and right hand. The doctor came in and said we were waiting on my hCg levels to come back and if they were high enough he would do an ultrasound.
Please be high enough. Please be high enough. I want to see my baby.
When we got the test results back, they were at 148. Not high enough at all. He said he thinks it was a threatened miscarriage since I had stopped bleeding and he wants me to follow up with my OB to see if the pregnancy is viable. He told my husband and I to wait and the nurse would get all of our discharge paperwork.
It was 11 am now.
Laying in the hospital bed, in a hospital gown, with nothing else on I had that feeling. That feeling people get when they start their monthly bleed. The warm thickness that begins to flow from their womb.
I used the bathroom again and the bright red blood had returned. "No. This can't be happening. I haven't even seen my baby yet."
When I made my way back to my room, I was in tears. I knew I was losing the pregnancy. I didn't need anyone to tell me what I intrinsically knew already. I had told my husband that Tuesday night as we were falling asleep that I didn't feel pregnant anymore. It was an off feeling, but one I could feel in my core. Little did I know how true it was.
The nurse came in to check on me and I was a snotty mess. She looked so worried and sad and kept asking me if I wanted her to get the doctor, but all I could say was "there's nothing we can do right? There's no stopping it. There's nothing he can do. It's fine."
So we left.
We got into my truck and both began sobbing.
This baby we had tried for and wanted so badly was leaving us. It was painful. Everything about it was painful.
What was even more painful was afterwards, anytime I brought it up, people would leave the room. They would try and change the subject. They would get awkward and uncomfortable.
I needed to talk about my baby. I was pregnant. I was with child. And then I suddenly wasn't anymore.
My entire future that I had planned changed in a matter of hours.
This is my story. And there's so many out there like mine.
Death is not taboo. It is a normal part of life and should be discussed so that families experiencing child loss at any stage can be supported in the way they need to be.