In all the plans my husband and I formulated, we never even considered miscarriage. We knew it existed, but didn’t know much beyond that. There wasn’t a history of miscarriage in my family that we knew of. My mom had never miscarried. There was no reason for me to think it would happen to me. I didn’t know it just happens, and there’s no telling who will miscarry and when.
The Early Excitement
Our plan worked flawlessly. We used ovulation tests, waited the two weeks, and then tested on a chosen day. We got a faint pink line, but a line was a line. No matter how faint, it meant I was pregnant. The packaging and enclosed instructions were quick to reassure us.
We had no reason to think anything would go wrong. The faintness didn’t worry us. A line was a line. Later tests still revealed the faint line. I never questioned why it never darkened. A line was a line. I even went to my doctor and she confirmed I was pregnant. A line was a line. Everyone said so.
The symptoms hit almost immediately. I had nausea and a crazy need to go to the bathroom. I was also dizzy, so dizzy I had to put my head between my knees for a couple of minutes. I was afraid I was in for a rough pregnancy. I worried about whether my studies would suffer, and whether I would even be able to pass my exams to earn my Master’s Degree. I never worried about my pregnancy.
We told our parents and our siblings. We were too excited to keep a lid on it. We went out a got a lamp for the baby.
This is Where it Went Wrong
I was five and a half weeks pregnant. It was a Wednesday. A Wednesday in early November. I was home alone. I had the urge to go to the bathroom, so I went. And discovered I was spotting. It wasn’t red and heavy. It was very light and brown. I called my mom. After having three kids, she was my expert in pregnancy. She reminded me spotting could be completely normal and she knew someone who had had periods for most of her pregnancy. She told me not to worry and to get some rest.
Not worry? Okay, if you say so. I’m sure my mom knew I would worry anyways. It’s just what I do. But I tried to rest and relax. I slept, but I don’t remember how well.
I got up at my usual time. I had class that morning and my husband needed to get to work. While he went to prepare breakfast, I went to take a shower.
The brown spotting was gone. Instead, it was red and heavy and I was cramping. My heart plummeted. I tried to remind myself some women have periods while pregnant. The baby could be completely fine. But, just to be sure, I wanted to go to the hospital.
It was early in the morning, so we were seen fairly quickly in the ER. I think that was my very first ER visit for myself, but I didn’t think about it then. I was worried and afraid. I remember having an ultrasound and going to the bathroom where I passed quite a bit of tissue. It was only after I flushed that I realized I should have saved it.
I was told my lining was thick and fluffy, but there was no sac. There was no baby. But the technician didn’t see any reason why I couldn’t conceive. After all, my lining looked perfect.
We saw a PA after that. He was very nice and told us he and his wife had had the same experience. It was called a chemical pregnancy since there was no physical evidence of one except for a positive pregnancy test. He told us it was common and there was nothing we did that caused the miscarriage. There was also nothing we could do to prevent one. It was likely the egg had failed to implant or implant correctly.
I had to spend the next week or so taking pregnancy tests and having my blood drawn to make sure my hormone levels went back to 0. We were told to wait at least 3 months to try again. I was heartbroken.
The Emotional Toll
I had never known anyone who’d had a miscarriage. At least, no one had ever spoken about one. I felt alone. My husband and I worked on it together in our own ways. It was hard. I felt like I lost the ability to feel emotions. I was cold inside.
My husband, ever the scientist, didn’t believe we needed to wait 3 months. He did the research. It was his healing place while clamming up was mine. It hurt that my plans were out the window if we had to wait 3 months. Fortunately, my husband’s research said otherwise. He told me that, after the miscarriage, my body was primed for pregnancy and the 3 months was just to make it easier for the doctor to pinpoint a due date.
It was a tough week while he researched, I tried to emotionally and physically heal, and we talked at length about what to do next. In the end, the decision was a fast and easy one.
There was no reason to not try again right away.