{Note: I wrote this amidst my miscarriage, through cloudy eyes, a zombie-like state, and anger—lots and lots of anger. Never in a million years did I think we would get to where we are now, exactly oneyear later. Proof that you should never, ever, give up <3} If, like my husband and I, you find out you've lost the baby before you've actually miscarried, you go through a mind-screw {insert cuss word here} like no other. I remember thinking, I just want to get this over with - I just want this nightmare to officially be over. Until I actually "passed" the baby {which is the worst description for miscarriage ever that medical professionals use. It's not a bowel movement, it's a baby.}, I was living in a complete nightmare, with constant reminders that I was, and still am, pregnant. Until I actually miscarried, I couldn't heal—body, mind or soul—I was stuck in miscarriage limbo. Long sob-story short {and when I say sob-story, I mean, pillow soaking, mascara vanishing, crying day in and day out, walking around like a zombie, kind of sob}, we went in for our 8 week ultrasound, as giddy & anxious as ever, and got the worst news that we never even imagined. I say that because you can't possibly imagine how bad news like this is - until you get it. I also say that because we were completely blind-sided - having just had a "great" u/s at 7 weeks with two big thumbs up from the doctor. Within seconds of starting the ultrasound we hear, "I'm sorry guys, I'm just not seeing what we want to see. We've lost the heartbeat." I think those words will replay in my head, and sink in my stomach forever. {Re-reading them gives me a pit in my stomach every time.} After that, you just wait. You wait to "pass" the baby on your own. You've dreaded getting your period every month for as long as you've been trying to get pregnant because that meant youweren't pregnant. And now, now you search for your period with every trip to the bathroom because that means it's officially over - you are no longer pregnant - you can finally move on and start the healing process. They give you a week - a week to pass naturally before turning to a D&C. What they don't tell you about that week is that it will be the longest, most tortured, horrible week of your life. You know you've lost the baby, but your body doesn't. They don't tell you that your body still thinks it's pregnant. They don't tell you that you'll still wake up s t a r v i n g and light-headed and nauseous because the "baby" is hungry. They don't tell you that your tiny pooch {that pooch that you rubbed and giggled about - thinking it was getting bigger, but knowing it was still inconspicuous to the naked eye} will still stick out just a wee bit further after eating - if and when you're able to eat, that is. They don't tell you that your boobs will still be hella-sore as if they're still growing and preparing for milk. They don't tell you that your emotions will still be heightened and in over-drive and making this nightmare worse. They don't tell you that you'll still be exhausted by 9pm - only now, you can't sleep, because your mind won't stop. They don't tell you that your lips will still be insanely chapped - that you'll still be keeping Blistex, Aquafor, Carmex and Chapstick in business for weeks. They don't tell you that because you're still experiencing all of these symptoms, and because you're so very sleep deprived, you'll start to wonder if...maybe, just maybe, they were wrong? Maybe the heart beat was just weak that day and if they look again then they'll see it beating strong. You'll drive yourself crazy wondering whether you should call and ask for a second u/s - and also wonder how crazy you'll sound if you actually made that call. You submit to the reality that you, in fact, may just be going crazy. And they certainly don't tell you that the ultrasound picture they gave you at week 7, the chalkboard picture you took at week 5, or the Pinterest-inspired pregnancy reveals you used to tell your closest family will now haunt you forever. That all of your pregnancy "firsts" will now be used up, and never be able to be used again. That your heart will forever be a little emptier because of the first baby that will never be.
They don't tell you how hard it will be to miscarry...when you're still pregnant.
I kept thinking how I just wish I would get my period - I wish this would all be over so I could start to heal, and move on. But I bet those of you who miscarried without any warning of an ultrasound wish they could feel that tiny baby inside for just a little longer - that you could still feel pregnant, even when you weren't. For you, I'll try not to hate this as much as I do. I'll try to remember that the grass is always greener - and that you would probably kill to wake up starving and have just a little more time with the baby that could never be.
{No silver linings this time. Just hope. One day hope will return, and your second will eventually become your first, and though you'll never forget your actual first, you'll let yourself get excited and giddy again, because how could you not? Babies have that affect on you - and your heart.}
<3 Pinto Bean <3
P.S. One of my dear old friends and now fabulous blogger wrote a post on her own miscarriage that got me through many sob-filled nights - and she didn't even know it. Her post on "Why Women Should Talk About It" inspired me to share my own story. Thank you, G <3
Psst...More on our baby & infertility journey here:
10 Things Not to Say to Someone Trying to Conceive
