How do you title a blog that you want to write which is about a word that you never thought you’d say yourself? That word is like a plague of guaranteed “I’m so sorry,” “at least you can try again later,” “better luck next time,” “it wasn’t anything you did,” “hey, now you can drink!” The list really keeps on going. What if you don’t really want to hear all that? What if you don’t even want to talk about it? What if you just want it to go away and pretend like it never happened? I definitely feel that way sometimes, but other times I feel like I need to talk about and need to make sure that other women don’t condemn other women for announcing their pregnancies before 12 weeks.

You know what’s messed up? Before this whole thing (while I was about 8 weeks pregnant), I was scrolling through Facebook and saw a post from a girl who I know has gone through miscarriages because she’s super vocal about just about anything in her life. She made a post about how she couldn’t believe that some girls announce that they are pregnant before 12 weeks, because “don’t they know that 20% of pregnancies miscarry?” When I read this, I almost commented but decided not to because there’s no point in arguing about something so mute.

Sometimes, we as females get excited when we get the news that we are pregnant. We want to share it with everyone because it’s something new. It’s fresh, it’s beautiful, it’s a new life growing inside of you. I mean, it’s amazing and honestly, it’s a miracle to get pregnant. Why not share and talk about your experiences before that 12 week mark? Just because 20% (like seriously, how did I not know that 20% of pregnancies end in miscarriage) of pregnancies end for no known reason, that doesn’t mean that your experience isn’t worth sharing while you think your baby is healthy and growing inside you. In my opinion, you need the most support during that first trimester. You’re the most tired, you’re nauseous, you don’t want to eat much that is healthy. You need to talk with your friends. Why pigeon-hole yourself just because there’s a stigma out there that says “don’t announce until after 12 weeks, because what if you miscarry and then have to face the news of those looming statements of people who don’t really know what to say?” I say, announce, announce whenever the heck you want. It’s your body, it’s your life, who cares about stigmas… do what YOU want.

Now that, that is off my chest, here’s my story. I can’t really bare to tell another person about it face-to-face. I don’t want to say these words again or relive this ever again. It’s pretty painful and hard to admit that I, me of all people, went through this.

At 8 or so weeks, Doug, Edmond and I went in for the regular first time ultrasound to make sure the baby was alive and the pregnancy was viable. When the midwife did the ultrasound, the baby was there – heart pumping and everything. She even said that the heartbeat was fast and that there was a study done that showed that there is a correlation to fast heart beats and girls. Obviously, this got me excited because I was hoping for a girl.

We went home after that visit, excited and just happy about what the future held for us. We talked about the babies room, this dumb chandelier I got from an estate sale that I wanted to spray paint rose-gold, because in all honesty, rose-gold is just beautiful and would look so cute in her room. Yes, that’s me and my thoughts jumping forward 6 months, assuming it was a girl when I had absolutely no idea. I also started chalk painting an adorable all wood dresser that my mom got for us. It’s finished now and just sitting in our fireplace room with no expectation of a home in the near future.

A few weeks go by and it’s time for my second check-up. Doug was planning on meeting me there, but couldn’t find his car key. I, (stupid-stupid me) had his car key in my jacket pocket the entire time and was telling Doug how dumb he must be to lose his keys. In my defense though, that damn jacket has a hole in the right pocket which leads to the lining of the base of the jacket. Can’t tell you how long I’ve lost chapstick in that pocket until I sat on it and it hurt my butt. I found the key later that evening all the way on the other side of the jacket. Woops.

Anywho, I go in and they take my blood pressure. Everything was normal. I then tell them that Doug and I have a little trip planned in 2 weeks to go to the Smokey Mountains and stay in a cabin. So I’d like him to only get the news of the sex of the baby so he can surprise me while we’re there. They say ok and then bring in the doppler and ultrasound machine.

The doppler couldn’t hear anything except my heartbeat, but we weren’t alarmed because at that point, I was only 12 weeks pregnant and the baby could be moving around. The midwife grabbed the ultrasound and played around on my stomach for about 5 minutes and coudn’t find much. She then pulls out the transvaginal or whatever it it’s called and tries that approach. She says “I’m not seeing what I’m supposed to, I’ll be right back.” She grabs another midwife and she looks around as well. She looks at me and says, “Sorry.” The baby was only measuring just shy of 9 weeks, and the heart was visibly not beating. At that point I’m feeling like I left my body and was sitting in a movie theater watching some girl talk to two midwives. The second midwife leaves the room and the other pulls up a chair, so I sit up.

She tells me that I have three options, a DNC which is basically what they do for an abortion (they go in and remove everything), I could wait for another week and see if my body realizes the baby died, or I could take pills to hurry the process along. At this point, I’m in such shock that I don’t even know what to say. I’m hating it that Doug couldn’t make it. I am alone.

I tell her that I need a minute, she gives me a hug and tells me to get dressed and leaves the room. I’m not sure that I really had any thoughts during the few minutes I had in that sterile room. I honestly felt lost, like I didn’t know where my car keys were, where my phone was. I knew my phone was basically dead and had no service, so I couldn’t call out. I gather my things the best I can and just start to walk out. The midwife grabs me as I’m opening the door to leave and asks me what I decided. I completely forgot that I needed to let her know. I told her I wasn’t sure and that I needed to process this over the next day or two. I told her I would probably do the pills but that I’d let her know. At this point, she’s walking with me because I really didn’t want to stop. I just wanted to leave. That was probably rude now that I think about it, but I didn’t even notice at the time. She pointed to another part of the hospital and said that if I choose the pills, I’d need to get a second opinion and that I would need to call back to setup a time to go.

I plug in my phone in the car and call Doug. I tell him the news and he’s in complete shock. I then call my mom. Complete shock as well. I remember this eery feeling of the fact that there’s this sweet little baby in me, dead. No life. I’m carrying around a deceased little person. The worst of it, is that I couldn’t keep my baby safe. That baby was all alone in me, balled up and just dead. After I had those thoughts, I knew I couldn’t wait for my body to realize it had passed. It had already been about 3 to 4 weeks after the baby died. I knew I wasn’t going to do the DNC, I would take the pills. I called the next morning and said I’d like that second opinion and arranged time for Thursday afternoon.

Those three days of waiting were like torture. I probably googled every situation possible about miscarriage. I found a site that is just for this, misdiagnosedmiscarriage.com. I so wanted to believe that the midwives were wrong. I clinged to any hope I could find online. There wasn’t much because those ultrasound machines are pretty accurate, unfortunately. I knew the truth at that point. I wanted to have faith, but knew… there wasn’t really any hope.

When Thursday came, my sister and my mom wanted to be there. Doug wanted to come but had an appointment that I told him to keep. I knew it would be crowded with my sister and mom. In the waiting room, they were talking to me and trying to uplift me, which was nice, but I didn’t really even want to talk. I just wanted to be there and get it done and over with. The nurse called my name and we went back to the room. She lubed my stomach and found the baby with the ultrasound machine; no heartbeat. I kept on thinking that the baby would move or she would find another angle and the heartbeat would show up. Nope. She then had her boss come in who did the same thing… No heartbeat. It was over. That’s a wrap. No baby being born in another 6 months.

At this point in the story, it gets a little graphic, but I’ll keep it PG. I’m sure most of you have stopped reading because woah, I’ve written a lot.

My sister and mom hug me, try to say some uplifting things and then go their ways. I head home but first stopped at Walgreen’s to pick up the pills. This whole time I thought all I’d do is just pop some pills and wait. No, nope, not these pills. These have to be inserted (gross and what the hell medical industry). I get them and drive home. All the while with a feeling in my stomach that this isn’t happening to me, but it is.

I get home, kiss my sweet Edmond and Doug and do the necessary actions. Nothing happened while was awake, which to me is a blessing. I wake in the middle of the night with soaked sweat pants and run to the bathroom. Guess my water broke. Doug got me fresh clothes. That’s when the bleeding began.

My work stated I could have 3 days off, which I didn’t think I’d have to use. I used every single one.

I thought simple bleeding is all that would happen. Nope, wrong. I passed the baby, the placenta and the uterine lining. At one point I thought I needed to go to the ER because I bled so much. we drove there, I spoke to a doctor and then decided that it was too expensive to simply have them press around on my stomach, do an ultrasound and then send me on my way. All that happened on Monday night. I thought I was going to work on Tuesday. After all that, there was no way. I even ended up taking Wednesday off as PTO because I was so mentally and physically drained.

I finally went in and worked a full day on Thursday plus some because I needed to put in extra hours for that trip I mentioned above. We were scheduled to leave the next day, on Friday to head to the Smokey Mountains. I thought by this point, that I’d be done with the whole thing.

It’s currently Sunday morning (11 days later) and i’m still dealing with it. We went on a crazy single-rider ride up on a mountain in the Smokey’s yesterday and my goodness it was terrifying but so much fun. Afterwards, I used the bathroom and had passed a blood clot. I almost cried. It was a reminder of what happened to me the week prior. I had to pull myself together and deal with it. It still hurts my heart thinking about that site yesterday.

I still can’t believe I’m not pregnant. I’m still in shock. Will this feeling ever go away? Was it a boy or a girl? Does it know what happened? Will I ever get to meet that soul in my lifetime… I’ll never know.

I’m not sure if this will bring peace to any other woman who has read this. Just know that you’re not alone. We all feel lost and bewildered after going through this. We’ll never understand why it happens, but it does and life must go on. If you do have other babies, hug and kiss those little miracles.

Much love,