I’ve been putting off writing this post. It’s hard to re-live it all. I’ll do my best to describe what happened.

Tuesday, August 21, I noticed some spotting. I immediately went into panic mode. I called my doctor and tweeted about it and Googled it. All three came back with the same response: totally normal, it happens, probably just leftover implantation bleeding. I eventually calmed myself down, but the seeds of doubt had been planted. What if I lose this baby? I knew the chances. They were practically 50/50.

The next day, I saw actual bleeding. Funny how after the initial panic, the reality was almost easy. I had expected it, despite all the reassurances. I called the doctor again, and she confirmed, with sympathy, that my cramps and bleeding were most likely a miscarriage. She set me up to get a blood test the next day to confirm. I called my husband and he came home from work. I cried a bit, but mainly just tried to stave off the pain with ibuprofen and heating pads. I just wanted the physical pain to stop.

Sometime after midnight that night, I awoke in extreme abdominal pain. I went to the bathroom and bled and cried in pain for almost an hour. Then, suddenly, the pain was almost completely gone. I cried in relief. I had never been so scared in my life. I crawled back into bed, trying not to wake my husband, and Googled what had just happened. It apparently was the norm. I never knew it would hurt so much, at only 5 weeks. I doubted my ability to risk getting pregnant again and going through that again. The pain was horrible.

We went to the hospital the next day to draw blood to check my HCG levels. Then we went home and re-planned the weekend getaway we had booked months before. It was a B&B with pools and a lake for kayaking, but you can’t submerge in water after a miscarriage for risk of infection. I still wanted to go somewhere. I didn’t want to cancel our vacation and mope at home. We found another relaxing B&B on a farm. We had a wonderful weekend.

It all came rushing back on Monday. I fell into a deep depression. Even a month later, I’m having trouble coping. I decided to not prevent a subsequent pregnancy, but not “try” specifically yet. Last month we didn’t conceive, but we only made one attempt. I’m going to try a little more this month, but not take my temp or OPKs or anything. I’m taking it slow and easy.

So…that’s that. For 10 glorious days, I knew I was pregnant. I had hopes and dreams and plans. They all came crashing down in an instant. I’m no longer due on April 24, 2013. I’ll never forget that date. I now have four (FOUR!!!) pregnant cousins, two on each side of the family. It’s so very hard. All the jealousy and rage I have, while feeling guilty because I should be happy for them. Second or third kid for each. I just want my one. Just one. Please gods, give me my baby.


4 thoughts on “Miscarriage

  1. I just started reading your blog today, and was so sad to read this page.
    It gets better sweetie, it really does.
    In April I went through the same thing – two wonderful weeks of being pregnant and planning life around the due date and sharing a secret from the world. Then that miscarriage, that resounding dread, even while you google and read of similar things that happened to others and they had healthy babies, you already know deep inside that this won’t be the case.
    It was hard, and for a few weeks my body didn’t really realize that it wasn’t pregnant anymore; Morning sickness is never fun, but it’s even worse when there’s no baby.
    We took it slow over the summer, and of course everyone around me is getting pregnant, and all you want to do is yell at all of them to stop and wait for me to catch up. It’s my turn, dammit. Hardest moment was a couple of weeks ago, when I thought I might be pregnant again (I had stopped OPKing and Ferning so I wasn’t sure about O date), and the day I got my period, a colleague announced her pregnancy. I went to the bathroom to cry in private.

    We are now officially TTC again, and I’m excited about taking temps and spitting and peeing again, which to me means I’ve had my grieving period. Give it time, and give your grief the recognition it deserves. Think of the good signs which this has shown you: you now know that his swimmers can swim to your eggs, and you know that your eggs can be fertilized. It’s a huge thing!


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