I honestly can’t believe I’m sitting here, about to write yet another blog post about miscarriage. I never thought I would suffer not one, but two miscarriages.
It’s been over a week since I miscarried and in many aspects, I am feeling better. But sometimes the darkness sinks in and my heart still hurts. What I’m learning is that it’s okay to feel hurt. It’s okay to feel lost. It’s okay to feel confused.
Sunday, July 8th. The morning of my first positive pregnancy test. For days leading up to taking this test, I had been feeling bloated and extra emotional. I had a feeling that I was pregnant. I woke up that morning at 3am and I couldn’t sleep so I decided to take a pregnancy test. It was faint, but it was positive.
I was so excited. Joseph and I had been trying to get pregnant again. We only want two children, and this pregnancy would have put the age gap at 2 years, 7 months, which felt perfect.
That morning, I told Joseph the news. After my last miscarriage, I had decided that I didn’t want to keep my pregnancies nearly as much of a secret as I had done previously. This is because I felt like I never got to celebrate my pregnancy I lost with anyone. I never got to be excited or let people share my joy. Since we were staying at an Airbnb in Utah with Joseph’s parents, I decided to also tell them.
The following week, we went to Lake Powell. I was extra cautious the entire trip and didn’t do any extreme activities as I didn’t want to do anything that could possibly result in miscarriage. Losing a pregnancy previously will do that to you.
We got home from Lake Powell at 5am on Saturday the 14th. Later that afternoon, I started bleeding. Immediately I started sobbing. I screamed “No, no, no! Not again! I can’t do this again!” Joseph tried to comfort me, reminding me that bleeding during the first trimester can be normal and telling me that I shouldn’t freak myself out too much.
That evening Joseph and my best friend’s husband gave me a blessing. I still felt anxious about the bleeding but I was trying to have faith that everything would be okay.
The next day I didn’t bleed at all. I was starting to feel better because the bleeding this time around was so much different than it had been with my previous miscarriage. It was very light and more resembled spotting than anything else. That day I decided to take a pregnancy test again just to make sure that my hCG levels were progressing. The positive line was darker than it had been a week prior which was comforting.
That next morning, I took another pregnancy test. Obsessive, I know. On this test, the positive line had all but disappeared. It was barely visible anymore. I started freaking out. Since it was finally Monday and my doctor’s office was opening in an hour, I decided to call them first thing. I told the nurse what had been going on and since I have a history of miscarrying, she had me come in right away to test my hormone levels. She told me that the results would take a couple of days to get back to me.
The next couple of days were awful. I was impatiently waiting to get my results back from the doctor. The not knowing was killing me. I felt like I was on an emotional rollercoaster. One minute I would feel fine, calm, and sure that the spotting was nothing. The next minute I would be in tears, pleading with the Lord to save my baby.
Tuesday night, I started bleeding again. This time it was different. It was incredibly heavy and had chunks of tissue in it. That’s when I knew it was over. Up until that point, there was a part of me that honestly believed that my baby was going to make it and everything was going to be okay. My heart was broken. I couldn’t believe that this was happening to me again. I felt like my body had failed me. I kept wondering how many more times I was going to have to experience this before finally having our second baby.
Wednesday morning, I called the nurse at my OB/GYN’s office again since I hadn’t heard from her yet. I told her that I had started bleeding again and that it was really heavy this time. She asked me if I had gone to the emergency room but I told her I hadn’t, as I am still paying off the ER bills from my miscarriage I had last year. I didn’t want to go to the ER just to be charged thousands and be told what I already knew. I reminded her that if I was indeed miscarrying, I was going to need to come in and get a Rhogam shot.
For those of you who aren’t familiar with Rhogam shots, I will do my best to explain it here. Basically, my blood type isn’t compatible with Joseph’s. I have a negative blood type and he has a positive blood type. When I get pregnant, if the baby also has a positive blood type, my body recognizes it as a foreign substance and tries to kill it off. The Rhogam shot essentially prevents that from happening. I have to get this shot at about 30 weeks pregnant, and then again when I deliver if the baby has a positive blood type. I also have to have this shot when I miscarry, and I have to have it within 72 hours of miscarrying.
The nurse told me that she hadn’t gotten my lab work back yet, and that she would call the lab that day and get back to me. As the day passed, I still hadn’t heard anything from her. The next morning I called again as I was running out of time to get the Rhogam shot. The nurse still hadn’t heard from the lab but promised me that she would call me that day regardless of what happened.
She finally called me back Thursday afternoon. She had gotten my lab work back. At the time I had gotten my blood drawn, I was six weeks, one day pregnant. The nurse said that my hCG levels were measuring at only 1-2 weeks pregnant. She had me come in immediately and administered my Rhogam shot. After I got my shot, she had me schedule an appointment with my doctor to check everything out and try and see why I’ve miscarried two pregnancies in a row.
I’ll go in for that appointment on August 7th. In the meantime, I’m doing my best to mourn my loss and move on. Some days I feel okay and hopeful for the future. But other days, like today, I’m scared. I’m anxious that this is something I’m going to have to keep going through. I pray that my doctor will have answers for me and that I won’t have to experience this heartbreak again. My heart feels like it’s been broken into a million little pieces. Nobody should ever have to go through this, but so many do.
And so I choose to share. Not because I want sympathy or attention. I have an amazing support system who has given me so much more than I could have asked for. I share because I want other women to know that they’re not alone. This is normal. As devastating as it is, it happens to so many of us.
If you have gone through this or are going through this, please know that you are not suffering alone. You don’t have to suffer in silence. There are so many of us who are walking the same path as you. Don’t be afraid to speak up. Don’t be afraid to ask for help. I am here for you. We are here for you.
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