Sharing is a way to let other women know they are not alone. You are not alone.

(I did not sugarcoat this story and I instead shared the reality of the experience. I also will note, everyone’s pregnancy loss is different, but it helped me to read other experiences online when I was going through it)

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A miscarriage in May 2016 and an ectopic pregnancy in September 2016. It was… quite a year. I hope that sharing my story can help other women who are, or who have, experienced the loss of a baby.

We weren’t trying to get pregnant that Spring. We had a plan – next year we’d try for number four! We can’t go getting pregnant this year… we were in the midst of house hunting and were currently living at my parents house with our three daughters. There were other life stressors going on as well – we had to sort things out, and then we would be ready.  But… nothing ever goes according to plan, right?! So, we found ourselves surprisingly pregnant in April 2016, due December 14, 2016! How miraculous – that day would also be our eldest daughters 7th birthday! Surely this was a sign, that God had everything in his control and this was meant to be. While we had our worries about timing, with everything else going on in our lives – that little pink line on the pregnancy test had me out-of-my-mind giddy with excitement – what an awesome surprise! My husband, the logical thinker, was a “cautious” happy, carefully guarding his emotions as he mentally sorted out how we could make this work.  By time you find out your pregnant, you’re already a month along, and by a couple of weeks after that, we were picking out baby names, wondering how to fit four car seats into our SUV, and daydreaming about how excited the kids would be… So, we told them! Why not?! Never have had any pregnancy issues in the past, have had three healthy pregnancies already… I had zero thoughts that miscarriage was a possibility. Our eldest daughter, Lola, was absolutely ecstatic that baby was due on her birthday – she exclaimed it was the best birthday gift ever! Our middle child Minka, was hoping baby would be a boy, so that she would have someone to be the prince, when she plays princess. Our youngest, Gemma, was only 2 years old and thankfully didn’t understand too much, but shared in the feeling of glee that was emanating in the room that afternoon.

Everything about that pregnancy seemed normal for me. As with my last three, I was nauseous and felt exhausted, but was not throwing up and was managing just fine. Around week 6, I had stomach flu symptoms for 24 hours – I was lethargic and throwing up, thinking this must be what “morning sickness” is, but then it subsided and was gone. I ate healthy, organic, clean foods, only took supplements that were geared for the baby’s development and continued house-hunting.

Around Week 10, suddenly my pregnancy didn’t seem so normal to me anymore. I went to the bathroom one day, and discovered a pin-drop sized spot of brown blood. I immediately questioned my mom, my husband, our midwife… my loved ones soothed me: ‘nothings wrong! That’s hardly any blood! Brown means “old” blood!” Some thought it was a sign I may be carrying twins… others thought it was just leftover from when the egg implanted in my uterus, since sometimes that causes bleeding… “every pregnancy is different, don’t stress.” All I could think was, I’d never had ANY type of bleeding in my past three pregnancies… this isn’t right, something is wrong. That was on a Friday, and I was highly aware that my husband was leaving out of town for work that Monday, so on Sunday when it happened again – I insisted on going to the emergency room (ER). It was only another small drop, was I just being negative? Was I sure something was wrong? Yes, my intuition was in full force, telling me I needed to know whether there was a heartbeat and what was happening, so I could move forward instead of stressing about it all day. After all, if there was a healthy baby in there, the stress wasn’t going to help anyway!

Off to the ER we went, anxious for answers. You probably know, nothing ever gets answered quickly in an ER, so we tried to be patient as I underwent a urine test, a blood test, questioning, etc.. They wanted to do a pelvic exam, but I was not comfortable with risking introduction of bacteria or disturbing the peace down there – just in case baby was healthy, and maybe fighting to stay that way. I insisted on ultrasound, thinking if I just see a heartbeat (or not), that will give me an answer to what’s happening. The ultrasound was very different than your typical pregnancy ultrasound – it took 45 minutes, and the entire time, the tech could not tell me what she was seeing, or even let me see the screen for myself. She could not show me a heartbeat (if there was one), or let me hear anything (she wore headphones). My husband wasn’t even allowed in the room with me – I was alone, just her and I. I stared at her face SO hard for those 45 minutes, desperately trying to pick up clues as to whether she was seeing good or bad – but no signs. Finally, she got up and said she would be back with the radiologist, who would want to check her work before talking with me. This didn’t sound good… but maybe she’s just brand-new at her job, and still learning? Then I heard her in the hallway, telling another nurse “is he available? I need him to come speak with her about the results,” and I just knew for sure at that point. I fought tears and frantically texted my husband that I was pretty sure this was it – the pregnancy was over. He came back towards the room, and they finally let him in, so he could be by my side. The radiologist appeared and calmly asked me how far along I was. I was 10 weeks, and I knew that for sure. He seemed perplexed and explained to me that our baby was only measuring at 7.5 weeks. He couldn’t find a heartbeat, but thought maybe that was because it was still early in the term – but now that I confirmed I am 10 weeks along, it means my fears were right. I hadn’t lost the baby yet, but it was inevitable. Miscarriage was coming. Releasing tears at that point, I was reassured there was nothing I did, and nothing I could have done differently. I know that this means that baby wasn’t meant to be, but the loss of your imagined future – that was so hard. My fourth baby was taken away from me, and none of the names we picked out, or the car seat configurations in our SUV we figured out… mattered anymore. Life was suddenly different in that moment, just as suddenly as it had changed in April with the news of a pregnancy.

We waited a while for the OB to come meet with us to discuss our options, all the while wallowing in our sadness and coming to grips with this new information and how our lives would once again be different. An hour or two later, the OB was at my side, explaining the three options I had: I could have a D&C performed, and be on my way, baby-free, I could take a  pill that would induce my miscarriage, or I could simply let my body do it on it’s own. Being that natural birth is important to us, and we birthed two of our three daughters drug-free with no interventions and trusting my body – we felt it made sense for us to forgo medical intervention and let my body do the work when the time is right.

Remember, that ER visit was on a Sunday. It took one week for the miscarriage to actually happen. During that week, life resumed – I was a mom of three girls, with a husband traveling for work. I had to cook breakfast, lunch and dinner, homeschool my kindergartner and get them to their extracurricular activities. All the while, there was a dead baby inside of me. Ouch, right? That was the truth I was living with and it was emotionally painful on a deep level. I did a lot of crying that week – a lot of questioning – a lot of pondering and a lot of searching for answers and finding reasons to blame myself. I couldn’t help but retrace my steps over the past two months, to figure out what I must have done wrong (but I didn’t do anything wrong). During that same week, on Thursday, my grandmother suddenly passed away. I felt completely broken inside at this point. I was extremely close to her, and leaned on her heavily over the years for advice on all things “life.” It felt so unfair that God also took her away from me, just when I could have used her hugs the most. A good friend pointed out to me, that my “grandmother better be ready, because she is going to have a baby to take care of up in heaven!” This made me smile, and helped give me comfort. I still couldn’t help but ask God every night – why? Why were these things happening all at once?

On that Saturday, my cousin was having a bridal shower, and on Sunday would be our grandmothers wake. I just had to make it through the weekend and compartmentalize my happy feelings for Saturdays shower and my sad feelings for Sundays wake, and the impending miscarriage.During the bridal shower, I began having period-like symptoms – uncomfortable cramping and red blood. Using pads, I made it through the next few hours until I got home and could lay down with a heating pad on my stomach, which really helped me feel better.  Around 5:30pm as I sat at the table eating dinner, I felt something “slip” out. Thinking I must be bleeding everywhere, I rushed to the bathroom and discovered a jelly-like blob about the size of a toddlers fist, on the pad. I texted our midwife, I texted my friends who had been through miscarriage – yes, this was probably it, I was most likely done! Mostly relieved, I was happy I could start the process of moving forward. I went to bed that night and slept soundly…  until 5am when I was abruptly woken by painful cramps. It felt like: I was in early labor! What was happening now?! I went to the bathroom and just sat there on the toilet, doubled over, accepting the discomfort and waiting for my body to do what it needed to do. Two hours later, I felt pressure and the feeling of needing to push – and something bigger than the night before, come out. A larger lump of tissue and cells, this was the completion of my miscarriage. After that, I experienced bleeding like a period for a couple of weeks and went to weekly blood-draws to monitor my pregnancy hormone levels decreasing as they should – that took about a month and a half, to get back down to zero. By then, my husband and I felt we’d been teased with that pregnancy and desperately wanted to try for another baby. The doctor told us we could start trying right away, but still very emotional, we waited a couple of months and tried again in August. Here’s what happened:

In early September, on the day I was anticipating my period to start (but hoping it wouldn’t, because we had tried for another pregnancy in August), I had red spotting. Darn, I thought… my period is starting after all, we will try again next time. The spotting was minimal, and I kept waiting for things to “get going,” as they usually do every month. Well, it never did… days went by, and the spotting was coming and going. I took a pregnancy test, which was positive, and I thought, here we go – I am misscarrying again. Again, doctors, our midwife and family all reassured me it is probably implantation, the timing is just right for that – but my intuition was telling me something different. I didn’t want to allow myself to get excited, in case I’m losing this baby, so I tried my hardest to remain neutral. But that is really hard to do! I was stressing and worrying again, and at the same time, praying that this was all in my head and in fact it was a healthy pregnancy. I was due May 15, 2017. The bleeding remained spotty and on some days, wasn’t there at all… but by the time I reached 5 weeks, I was on the phone with the OB begging for an ultrasound. She explained I would not hear a heartbeat that early, and they typically wait until 6 weeks, but she understood my fears and what I had gone through in May and said she would approve that so we can see if it is a viable pregnancy. It was Monday. I called the clinic where the ultrasound would be performed, and even with doctor approval, had to fight for an appointment – the receptionist arguing with me that it was too early and there was no point. It was very frustrating, but I was able to set an appointment for their next opening that Friday, September 16… my middle daughters 5th birthday. The Thursday before the appointment, I had more bleeding, and painful cramping in my left side that had me doubling over. I called the OB on-call, and explained what I was experiencing, but she said she was not concerned by my symptoms and not to worry. This is crazy I thought, I know this isn’t normal! So, I called the ultrasound clinic right before they closed and begged to come in that night. They couldn’t get me in, the receptionist explained, and furthermore, it doesn’t even make sense that they are going to see me tomorrow for an ultrasound, but they’ll do it. Irritated that no one was listening to me or believing me, I slept restlessly, anxious for the test the next morning.

Friday the 16th, my husband and I went early in the morning for the ultrasound. Right there, in my left fallopian tube, was a perfect little egg, perfectly implanted, in the most imperfect spot. The tech explained they would have to rush me to the ER, this was a dangerous circumstance and would probably require surgery, but they may be able to treat it with a chemotherapy drug. He also said, “thank goodness we were able to catch this early – you are lucky!” Say what!? I had to fight for that appointment in the first place, and no one wanted to give credence to my concerns when I insisted something was wrong. I’m lucky? Thank goodness “they” caught it early!? Now I had to process the possibility of surgery and while the tech slipped out to phone the ER, my husband and I googled “ectopic pregnancy” and what to do. It turned out I was a good candidate for Methotrexate (a chemotherapy drug) and could avoid surgery. Neither option sounded good to us, and we were terrified. Now I was texting all of my doctor friends and consulting the internet to understand what Methotrexate was and what it would do to my body. The OB in the ER warned me the risks include hair loss, blurred vision, impaired immune system among others, and in order to administer the two shots into my backside, they had to get two more nurses and the pharmacist and then make sure no one in the room, was possibly pregnant. Strong stuff, huh! My next thought was… how soon can I detox this stuff out!?

The next few days passed by uneventfully – there would be no big loss of tissue like with a miscarriage, just mild nausea from the drug and period-like symtoms. Every week, I went to have my blood drawn again, to make sure my HCG levels were going down – an indication the Methotrexate worked. It took a couple of months for my levels to reach zero, they moved much slower than with the miscarriage – and in the meantime, I was instructed not to do any traveling whatsoever, as the worry for sepsis or internal hemorrhage wouldn’t be gone until my levels reached zero.

By early December I felt I was finally past it, physically. Looking back, I had a hint that something could be wrong from the very beginning of the ectopic pregnancy, so I never really allowed myself to get too excited about it. I still experienced emotional stress related to the fear of something going wrong for those two months, waiting to see if the Methotrexate would work. An ectopic pregnancy is a life-threatening condition, and that fear overshadowed the sadness of losing another baby.

During both of these losses, everyone constantly reminded us how lucky we are to have our three, healthy children. Believe me, we know it! We are so grateful they are in our lives, and they were a big part of distracting me through a difficult time… but it doesn’t make a loss any easier. I’ll admit, previous to my own experience, I’d hear rumors of people having a miscarriage, and I’d think “well, it typically happens so early on, it can’t be too difficult? And you can just try again!” Now that I’ve experienced this loss myself, I know it extends beyond the physical pregnancy and doesn’t just “come and go.” You have 1-3 months of building excitement about a new family member… and then another 1-2 months of physically going through the loss while you’re body handles it… and not to mention the emotional pain which for me, was very hard for an entire year and a half. For a long time, we also wanted to try again, but I experienced a strange mix of emotions, wanting a baby and being too scared to get pregnant – how could I cope with another loss? The answer is to wait until you are not only physically ready, but emotionally ready too – however long that takes, is ok.

2016 was a dark year for us, but my husband and I got through it together through communication, not holding feelings in and supporting each other. We focused on the life in front of us, but we didn’t pretend the pain of loss wasn’t there. We faced it head on, acknowledged it and let ourselves be angry, sad, disappointed and every emotion in between. Then… we picked ourselves up, and forced ourselves to move forward – for our own health. My husband, and my best friend Elizabeth, planned different, little getaways to distract me and spark some joy… I focused on homeschooling the girls (which I’d already been doing anyway and turned out to be a perfect motivator to stay distracted) – and over time, it worked. I felt very connected to the baby I miscarried and although I don’t know for sure… I believe baby was a little boy. I still feel babys soul with me regularly and it brings me comfort.

I have been pretty vocal about my losses, because as I was going through it and people reached out to let me know they’d been through it too – I felt less alone in my sorrow, and I realized it happens more than one may think, but not often is it talked about. For me, talking about it, sharing my story, and hearing others, continues to be my “therapy” and really has helped me understand what my body was going through, as well as my emotions. If you, or someone you know, has been through a similar loss, I hope that sharing my story can help them feel less alone. If you have any questions, concerns or just need to talk woman to woman – you can comment below or reach out to me privately, at biglittlebites@gmail.com ❤️

Peace + Love

Michelle