Trigger Warning: Miscarriage
January 28, 2019, marked an unforgettable moment for me — I received a positive pregnancy test. It felt like a dream come true after meticulously preparing: from pre-conception medical consultations to maintaining a balanced diet and regular exercise. We had done everything right, including tracking ovulation to maximize our chances.
The news was so shocking, especially since it happened in the first month of trying. I was ecstatic, and I couldn’t wait to share the joy with my family. My partner, Lucas, and I told our 8-year-old daughter, Lily, who burst into tears of happiness. Our little “poppyseed” was due on October 13, and we decided to keep things under wraps until after the first trimester.
In those early weeks, joy enveloped us—Lily was already planning how to care for her new sibling. However, that bliss came to a halt when, on February 18, I started spotting at work. Friends reassured me that it was normal, but deep down, I sensed something was wrong. The next day, my doctor ordered a blood test to check my HCG levels, and upon seeing the results, my heart sank; my numbers weren’t doubling as expected.
Later that day, I experienced increased spotting and called the doctor, who advised me to go to the ER. I was filled with dread, but when we arrived, we found a flickering heartbeat of 110 beats per minute. It was a glimmer of hope, but reality hit hard when my hormone levels dropped shortly after. The next day, as I worked from home, I felt a renewed sense of hope, but it was short-lived as the bleeding worsened.
A visit to my doctor revealed distressing news: our baby’s heartbeat had slowed to 90 beats per minute, with the gestational sac shrinking. The technician’s apology felt like a knife to my heart, and our doctor offered comforting words, explaining that this was not our fault.
We scheduled a follow-up ultrasound, and I went home in a haze of emotions, filled with sadness, anger, and confusion. Lily, too, was heartbroken. Grief consumed me, and I found myself oscillating between tears and rage. Friends reached out with condolences, but some comments about trying again felt insensitive. We received supportive gestures, but I struggled to connect with anyone during this time of turmoil.
In the days that followed, I encountered aspects of miscarriage that no one prepares you for, including physical experiences that were jarring. When I returned to the doctor for a follow-up, I faced the emptiness of my “unremarkable” uterus. I knew logically that I would heal, but emotionally, I was far from ready.
While I cherish my healthy daughter and understand that I should be grateful, I am still navigating this heartache. To those who have supported me through this, including my therapist and coworkers, I am truly grateful. I know that in time, my emotions will stabilize, but for now, I am taking it one day at a time.
Let’s be clear: any loss should not be minimized. A miscarriage, regardless of how early, is a profound loss. Our baby mattered to us, and we were eager to meet him. For those seeking understanding and support, resources like this excellent guide on fertility insurance can be invaluable.
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In summary, a miscarriage is never “just” a miscarriage; it represents a significant loss of hope and potential. We may find strength in shared experiences, but the journey of healing is uniquely personal.