Finding Magic in Motherhood Part 5: The Miscarriage

Finding Magic in Motherhood Part 5: The Miscarriage

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.



23 thoughts on “Finding Magic in Motherhood Part 5: The Miscarriage”

    • Thank you so much. It helps to write about it, and I always hope that another woman reading this or another miscarriage story finds the strength to open up and avoid the isolation that’s all too common.

  • I’m sorry, Kat. I know many, many people who have miscarried. I’ve been so anxious about the baby dying at every possible point in this pregnancy that I’ve not even started a journal for him. (I started one at about 8 weeks with my first, and filled it with all my hopes, dreams, and love.) I still even worry about the grown ones, so I suppose it’s just a point of anxiety for me.

    • I felt the same when I was pregnant with my son. It’s scary not knowing if something will happen or if the baby will be fine. My mom also likes to tell me that the worry never really goes away. I think we must just be meant to worry about our children no matter how old. Your journal sounds to lovely! I wish I’d thought to do the same.

  • I am with you Hun. I found out about my miscarriage at my 12 week scan and I had to wait another week just for the doctors to be sure 🤦🏼‍♀️ three days later I had a blood transfusion as I lost way too much before getting to hospital, not wanting to take my two year old with me. It is heartbreaking and if you ever want to talk about it I am here

    • Thank you so much, and I’m so sorry about your lose. I can’t imagine how difficult it must be when there’s also a child that needs to be cared for.

      • I honestly concentrated on my daughter and tried to put it all behind me but months later I realised that was only hurting me and broke down. No child can replace another and I needed to grieve and come to terms with it

  • We had a blighted ovum – so a sac, but eventually they discover no fetal pole. We didn’t find out until we were about 9 or 10 weeks because I waited to get an ultrasound. I knew something was up. I wasn’t as sick as I was with my first and I was sick with him fast – very fast. Probably not even a month pregnant. The miscarriage itself sucked pretty bad – very bad cramping and heavy bleeding. That was in November and we were pregnant again in February.

    • Women’s intuition is an amazing thing, even when it delivers a devastating message. I’m sorry your miscarriage was so painful. Mine wasn’t physically terrible, but I’ve read many stories of pain and heavy bleeding. It feels like one blow after another kind of thing. But that’s wonderful you were able to conceive so soon. I thought it was common to be able to, but many stories contradict that thought.

      • We didn’t try to conceive. There is eight years between my two and I thought I was done at one. I have a whacked out thyroid and had low progesterone at one point so I just figured that blighted ovum was my body’s last gasp. I was 36. My youngest was a total surprise.

    • I’ve debated whether to continue to share it, but it’s still such a taboo subject and does nothing to help women who feel they must suffer in silence. I hope it can be something people will talk openly about in the near future.

  • I appreciate that you are able to tell your story so well. It’s so important for us to use the power of story telling to take the taboo and isolation out of common, normal things like miscarriage and the toll it takes on those of us who experience them. 🖤

    • That’s exactly what I’m hoping for! Finding out how common it is and then having to suffer in isolation confused me and affected me for years. I’m hoping that by opening up more women can find the support they need.

  • I wish more people talked about it. When I had each one of mine, I had an overwhelming need to talk about it but I was- get this- concerned that others might not like to talk about it given the sad nature of it. Forget about what I might have needed. Gosh we humans do things awfully wonky sometimes, don’t we Kat. Thanks for sharing your story. ❤️ x

    • Yes! It’s so true and so weird, as though asking for some care and concern isn’t allowed. It’s absurd considering we, especially women, are social creatures, and life must be equally full of the sad as well as the happy.

      • You’ve hit the nail on the head there with your final comment, I think, Kat. As children we’re not taught how to ‘do’ sad because it’s easier all ‘round to put it away and smile instead. And so by the time we grow up, most of us still don’t know how to do sad, or how to support people when they are.😢 It’s a shame, because, actually, the moments of ‘sharing sad’ have been some of the most beautiful, powerful moments of my life.

      • It’s so sad, but so true. Everyone is so desperate to avoid the negative emotions, but I think they really reveal the depth of our souls to us. I’ve learned so much about myself just from being sad or angry. You’re absolutely right. They’ve been some of the most beautiful and powerful moments of my life, too.

  • Thank you for sharing your story and I’m so very sorry you had to experience that. It’s such a horrible pain…and a lonely time. You’re very brave for putting yourself out there! We need to talk about it more because it’s helpful to know we aren’t alone.
    Thanks again!

    • Thank you, and thank you so much for reading. As I read more and more miscarriage stories, I see a common thread of loneliness, isolation, pain, and darkness, so I hope that by sharing my story even more moms feel able to share theirs and hopefully we can work to break down the taboo surrounding miscarriage. If there’s one time where a woman needs help, it’s during that time.

  • I’m so sorry for your loss. I understand how difficult a miscarriage is and I pray for your healing and your rainbow baby. You are so strong for sharing. I experienced two miscarriages that I recently posted about in my blog and reading your experience, I can tell you I felt the same way. Alone and afraid. After I posted about my experience so many women who read it reached out about their miscarriages. So know that you are not alone in this. We are praying for you and you will have your miracle soon. I know I will have mine someday too.

    • Thank you, and I’m so sorry to hear of your losses. I have found I’ve received the same reaction, so I have hope it’s possible to break down the silence around miscarriage. It’s a very difficult time, and I hope you have your rainbow baby soon. My miscarriage is actually nearing its 6 year anniversary and, as I write this, my 5 year old rainbow baby is snoring his head off, so I have hope that you will have yours soon.

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