Parenting
We never planned to take our son to Disney World when he was still a toddler. Our intention was to wait until he was about 4 or 5, when he would have the energy to fully appreciate everything the park had to offer. However, a sudden business trip to Orlando changed our plans—offering me a free flight, my son flying for free on my lap, and complimentary admission to Disney since he was under two. This, combined with our son’s newfound excitement for Mickey Mouse and his friends, propelled us to book four nights and three days at the happiest place on Earth.
As if that wasn’t enough, just days before our departure, I learned I was pregnant. A little one was set to join our family in November, perfectly spaced two and a half years after our son. We left for Orlando as a family of four—my son nestled on my lap and another child safely growing in my belly. Dreams of the trip, and of the future, filled us with anticipation.
Upon arrival, we checked into our hotel and ventured to Downtown Disney. Watching our son’s joy as he spotted Mickey everywhere was infectious. The next day promised to be filled with magical moments at Magic Kingdom, but everything changed when I woke up the following morning.
As I made my way to the bathroom, I realized something was terribly wrong. No, no, no, this couldn’t be happening. I crawled back into bed and broke the news to my husband, my heart shattering as I told him I was bleeding. He took a moment to comprehend the gravity of the situation before quietly asking, “What does it mean?”
“It means I’m probably not pregnant anymore,” I whispered, tears rolling down my cheeks.
Our son woke up shortly after, and with no other choice, we got ourselves ready to head to the Magic Kingdom. I left a message for my doctor back home, detailing what had happened. That morning, we enjoyed rides and character meet-and-greets. My son was thrilled, and while it didn’t erase my pain, it provided a small distraction.
He dozed off in his stroller later that morning, and just then, my doctor’s office called while we strolled through Adventureland. I explained our vacation situation, and the compassionate nurse advised that while I could wait for lab results, I should seek a hospital for a RhoGAM shot as soon as possible. We returned to the hotel, and after arranging a cab to the nearest hospital, my husband decided to stay back with our son, allowing him to nap and play.
With a heavy heart, I kissed them goodbye and climbed into the cab, mustering my bravest face. As we neared the hospital, the driver asked, “You visiting someone?”
I shook my head. “The ER, please.”
He glanced back in the mirror. “Are you alright?”
No. I paused. “Yes, thanks. Just need to get checked out.”
The hospital, surprisingly bright and welcoming, smelled of coconut, a stark contrast to my emotional state. Tears filled my eyes as I checked in, and a nurse kindly reassured me that some women do experience spotting throughout their pregnancies. But deep down, I already knew the truth.
After a full workup—ultrasound, blood tests, and an internal exam—all the medical staff confirmed my worst fears: I was likely miscarrying.
Returning to the hotel, I was engulfed in sadness but resolved to stay strong for my son. I showered, layered on makeup to mask my swollen eyes, and led my family back to the Magic Kingdom for the evening. I managed to keep my tears at bay during the trip, saving my sorrow for when my son was asleep and during quiet moments on the bus ride back, where my tears slipped silently down my face as my son rested on my shoulder and my husband squeezed my hand.
I opted out of the business trip, knowing I would struggle without my husband and son, longing to return home to see my own doctor. We came back as a family of three, mourning the fleeting promise of being four. I clung tight to my family, cherishing my son’s laughter and beauty, grateful for his presence, and finding solace under my husband’s arm—thankful for him too.
If there’s a silver lining to this painful experience, it’s the strength I discovered within myself. The ability to continue living when all I wanted to do was hide, to find laughter amid heartache, and to seek joy while mourning. I’m not alone in this journey—thousands of women face miscarriages daily and continue to embrace their roles as mothers, wives, daughters, and sisters. They rise each day, dress up, show up, and persist, even when their hearts are heavy.
While I would give anything to have my November baby back, I feel enriched by the resilience I’ve found within me. For more insights on navigating similar experiences, check out this blog post. And for those on a fertility journey, consider visiting this reputable site for at-home insemination kits. If you’re seeking guidance on treatments, this resource offers valuable information on pregnancy and home insemination.
Summary
This blog recounts a deeply personal experience of miscarriage while visiting Disney World. The author shares her emotional journey, the support of her family, and the strength she discovered within herself through this challenging time. It highlights the resilience of women who navigate similar experiences and offers resources for those on a fertility journey.
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