I think that little embryo that was so nearly a fetus would have gone on to be a beautiful little girl. If she had been born, she would have a beautiful name and a family overjoyed to meet her. One day I discovered she existed, then exactly one week later, my Little Miss was gone.
It was almost as if she never existed.
But she did. There was proof in the 4 positive pregnancy tests I hid in a target bag. There was proof in the declining HGC levels of my blood tests. I had even begun to experience common pregnancy symptoms. We told a small number of people about our bundle of joy to be. I had three OB appointments booked. Two days before my first appointment I pleaded with God to let her stay-I had found a few specks of brown blood. The day before the appointment, she passed.
Having a miscarriage has been surreal. It was almost like having an out-of-body experience. I still can’t believe that what happened really happened. Some people have difficulty physically passing a miscarriage. For some reason, I didn’t. It happened quickly. I had brown blood one day. The next morning, I woke up at 5am from cramps and discovered lots more blood. By 8am, the clot fully passed. That’s what it is at that stage. A blood clot the size of an egg. Blood clots are something that many people are very familiar with during their menstrual cycles. If I hadn’t known that I was pregnant, I would have assumed that this was just my period. It made me wonder if this had happened before. How many times has this happened to me without me even realizing it? Is this the first? The tenth? There is no way to find out.
I took off from work that day. I didn’t cook for a week. I went away for a while with my husband. Then I forced myself to get back to my daily routine. I don’t know if I grieved enough. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve stopped grieving or that I ever will. I was so excited when I found out I was pregnant. I had a gut feeling that I was weeks before I found out. I patiently waited for the 5 days prior-when you can start taking tests-took two tests…..and they were both negative. I cried. I thought that I was pregnant. I had been feeling extremely nauseated, I was constantly hungry and craving different foods, and even though I had been dieting, my weight had increased just a bit. A friend suggested I wait a day and try another test. I waited a day and tried 4 tests, a digital, normal detection, early detection generic, and early detection main brand. They ALL came back positive! I was through the roof with joy. I quit drinking (I like to have a beer or glass of wine when I get home from work), I bought new maternity clothing, we ended up telling some family because it was hard to hide the fact that I was no longer drinking, and in general, just embraced the excitement that follows pregnancy. That included me confidently booking some OB appointments. I thought to myself that this would be so much easier now that I’ve gone through everything once before. It wasn’t that long ago so I remember a lot, I won’t be as anxious, it will just feel routine. With that in mind, I booked up my appointments. Not even a week went by before I had to call back to ask a triage nurse if I was having a miscarriage. When I called, I spoke to the same secretary who had helped me book my appointments. She sounded just as heartbroken as me when she directed the line to triage. Talking with the triage nurse felt out of place. I had all these emotions floating around in my head, unable to figure out which one I needed to experience first, and there I was talking about body functions in a very stale manner. Was I doing this right? Shouldn’t I have been sobbing? Is talking in my best customer service voice right after a miscarriage inappropriate. I hoped not. Because that’s exactly what I did. And after confirming that I likely did miscarry, I hung up. My day was spend hugging my little boy a lot, while he tried to squirm away (although we did have some cute hugs), then eating out for lunch, having a couple of drinks, a long nap, and in general just feeling depressed. Depression is a feeling I find very familiar. The emptiness, staring at walls without realizing it, not being motivated, always NEEDING a nap, feeling overly hungry, not feeling hungry at all, doing anything you can to be numb, or not doing anything at all. It had been a long time since I had the chance to act the way I felt. I’ve put a lot of my old habits aside to provide myself and my family with a sense of normalcy. I don’t just mope up to my room to be alone for hours on end, even if that’s all I feel like doing some days. It takes effort, but I’ve even stopped taking as many naps. That day was different though. I had called in sick, I had nothing scheduled, dinner wasn’t going to be made by me, my child had someone watching him, my husband and I could grieve in our own ways. I gave into my feelings and took a long nap.
If I’m being honest, I wish that I could nap again. I’ve been doing much better the past couple of weeks, but I still constantly feel the exhaustion that stems from depression and grief. The everyday life we live isn’t made for taking time off for yourself. Even on vacations, there’s an immediate threat that your life back home will find you somehow. With that in mind, I’ve been living just like I normally would. This is the first week I’ve cooked every day since my miscarriage. I’ve been working, I’ve seen friends, I’ve seen family, gone on walks, spent time cuddling in front of the tv with husband and my boy, snuggled with my dog and cat, for the most part, my life has gone back to what it used to be. The only thing that remains is memories. Memories of loss, love, joy, and pain. When I think about the future, I know that there is hope. I know that one day there may be a delightful rainbow baby, even if it isn’t biologically mine (I’ve always been interested in adoption and fostering). But for now, I’ll continue to grieve. And I’m okay with that.
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