The beginning of my loss story goes back to 2017. I had my birth control implant removed in January and we decided to use the natural family planning method of birth control. We weren’t too concerned about the possibility of getting pregnant and were planning to start a family in the near future anyway.
Even though I was honest with my husband about when it was or wasn’t safe to have sex, I began feeling disappointed and saddened every time I got my period. My heart was ready for kids but my husband wasn’t too sure yet.
Several months later in November of that year, I began to notice how extremely tired and fatigued I was feeling. I also had THE WORST PMS symptoms and felt like I was consumed with inexplicable rage. I had been spotting and cramping and was beginning to get annoyed with the fact that my period had not started yet. I remember my sister in law asking if I thought I might be pregnant. I laughed at the notion. Ben (my husband) had been careful about avoiding intercourse around my ovulation schedule, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe my sister in law was right.
The next day I went to Target and picked up a few pregnancy tests. I didn’t take one right away and thought it best to wait until first thing in the morning. My husband was working overnights at the time so I was alone. I woke up around 3 AM and needed to pee so badly that I decided to take one then.
“It was positive! I was in complete shock.”
It was positive! I was in complete shock. My heart was pounding out of my chest so hard that it felt like it was coming out of my ears. I felt the weight of anxiety and excitement cover me like a heavy blanket. So many questions going through my mind: was this really happening? I’m actually pregnant? Should I text Ben? When would I be due? July? I don’t want to be super pregnant in the middle of the summer heat! -Obviously, there was no way I was getting any more sleep. I just laid in bed, pondered what all of this meant, and cried happy tears.
I decided to go to work, and try to act normal and planned to tell Ben later that night. I had purchased a fuzzy stuffed bunny rabbit a few months earlier and hid it in the back of my closet in the event we got pregnant. My husband and I both cherished our stuffed rabbits as children and I thought it only fitting that our baby should have one too.
When my husband woke from sleep, he came into the living room where I had left the stuffed bunny sitting on the coffee table. After a while I asked if he noticed the rabbit, to which he obliviously said no -haha. I handed him the rabbit and reminded him of our beloved childhood stuffed animal friends and I said, “I wanted to get one for our baby to have since I’m pregnant.” He was caught of guard and still a bit hazy from just waking up, but he was excited about becoming a dad.
We decided to wait to tell friends and family, you know because of the ‘first-trimester rule,’ and wait until Christmas to drop the news. We understood that meant keeping our mouths shut during thanksgiving, but I knew the surprise would be worth the wait.
I made an appointment to see the doctor when I should be around 8 weeks along. It was hard keeping this secret from friends, coworkers, and family, but eventually, a handful of my work friends found out the news. Needing to use the bathroom so frequently and being exhausted all of the time were dead giveaways any way.
A few more weeks went by and I had continued to spot bleed and cramp frequently but was told that all of that can be normal with implantation bleeding. During this time, I was working for a large health food store and Thanksgiving is like the Superbowl of holidays. Hands down the busiest time of year. I was working extra hard, not taking frequent breaks or eating regularly, I was under large amounts of stress and it ended up catching up with me the day before thanksgiving. I noticed that this light cramping I had been having had intensified and I started seeing some light bleeding. Terrified, overwhelmed and exhausted I found my boss, she started to give me a laundry list of tasks when I put my hand up and with tears in my eyes said, “You don’t know this yet because I haven’t told many people but I’m pregnant and I’ve been having some cramping and bleeding and I need to go home.” She didn’t hesitate to apologize and agreed with my decision to leave.
I went home, took a warm bath and just prayed that everything would be ok. The cramping stopped and the bleeding went back to the usual mild spotting. We spent the next day (Thanksgiving) with our family and were successful in avoiding any suspicion, even when I refused my usual glass of wine.
Our first ultrasound was scheduled for the week after Thanksgiving and I couldn’t wait to see Baby and maybe get an official due date.
5 days later (on a Tuesday) I noticed that the cramping was back and had intensified. I assumed this was normal because losing this pregnancy wasn’t even on my radar. I remember taking a break, eating some lunch at my desk when I had this mental picture of wiping and seeing bright red blood. It sent a shiver down my spine but I couldn’t shake this feeling of dread. I got up and went straight to the bathroom. I peed and wiped and when I glanced down at the toilet paper my premonition became my reality. Bright red blood-soaked the toilet paper and a tidal wave of emotion washed over me. Fear started to pump through my veins as I washed my hands. I went straight over to HR and let my representative know that I needed to leave immediately.
I gathered my things and tried not to break down as I left the store even though it felt like a 2-ton elephant was sitting on my chest. I sped home and when I walked into the back door of my house, I felt like I was free to let that pressure go, let my guard down, and let the tears fall. I dropped my stuff at the back door and went into my bedroom where my husband was and let out the loudest guttural moan, sob, cry I’ve ever made. I wailed and wailed as the reality of losing this precious baby began to set in. It felt like something was being ripped from my heart. It was violating, and repugnant. Like a thief had snuck into my body and was trying to rip my baby from my womb. There was nothing I could do to fix this or stop it from happening. I was helpless.
I sped home and when I walked into the back door of my house, I felt like I was free to let that pressure go, let my guard down, and let the tears fall.
I got up and drew a bath. I needed to feel warm and comforted and knew that a bath would help. I could create a safe space and a quiet cave in the tub with the curtain drawn. My husband tried to remain calm and strong for me. I sat in the tub and watched the water turn pink as he sat outside the tub, wept, and prayed for me and for our baby. We decided to hold onto hope. That this wouldn’t be the end. We wanted to believe that God would save this baby.
I remember standing up to get out of the tub and realizing that I only had our white towels hanging in the bathroom. I yelled for my husband and when he entered all he saw was me standing there, naked with blood flowing down my legs. The look of horror was all over his face. He was not prepared to see that. I saw him snap out of his trance when I finally got his attention and asked him to bring me a dark-colored towel.
That night the bleeding and cramping had let up a bit and we held onto hope.
The next morning (Wednesday), I called my OB’s office and told them that I believed I was miscarrying. They were able to get me in within a few hours. I remember sitting in that busy waiting room, looking at all of these other women with large round bellies clearly carrying healthy babies and I felt the flood of tears come back to my eyes. I wanted to trade places with them so badly. I would have given anything.
They called my name. My husband came with me down a long winding hallway into a sonogram room. The sonographer was so sweet and kind. She reminded me of everyone’s favorite aunt -with a sweet disposition and a calming voice. She explained everything she was going to be doing and was patient in delicate in her handling of the matter. The OB on call joined us in the room mid ultrasound. There on the screen, I saw the gestational sac. There was no heartbeat but they also wondered if maybe it would have been too early to see anything. They estimated that I was about 7.5 weeks along. Bleeding was minimal at this point so they decided to draw labs and check my HCG, and asked me to come back, in two days for another lab.
So we left and went home to begin our journey into limbo. The days that followed were such a roller coaster ride. Cramping and bleeding would come and go but still no large clots or anything like that. We weren’t really sure if we were losing this baby or not.
We went back for another blood draw on Friday morning, and my husband offered to take me out to brunch afterward. We didn’t talk much during our meal and halfway through I started to feel those waves of pain (contractions) return. It got so intense that I couldn’t talk through them and needed my husband to pay the check so we could leave.
The waves were so incredibly intense in the car ride home that I found myself holding my breath and tightening my body up, trying to fight them. As soon as we pulled into the driveway, I went inside, doubled over in pain and just needed to moan and breathe through the contractions. My husband felt helpless and asked if I thought we needed to go to the hospital. I told him that there was nothing they could do for me there, and I don’t like hospitals. I wasn’t going anywhere.
I climbed into bed and clutched a heating pad and managed to fall asleep. I awoke to the sound of a call from the nurse. She told me that my HCG was declining and I was indeed miscarrying. When she said that, I didn’t know how to feel so I just asked if I could take some ibuprofen. I had been avoiding taking it because I was still holding onto the hope that our baby would live.
“Yes, dear you can and should take around 1,000 mg every 6 hours or so. We want you to be as ‘comfortable’ as possible.” Hah, comfort. That was an ironic notion.
I hung up the phone and I felt nothing. I was numb. I couldn’t cry anymore.
I hung up the phone and I felt nothing. I was numb. I couldn’t cry anymore. I didn’t want to swallow that jagged pill of defeat because it meant that it was really over. My baby was dead. My body was going to expel that pregnancy. I was having a miscarriage.
Oddly enough in that moment, I was more intent on getting ahold of my friend to let her know that we were miscarrying and I wasn’t going to be able to make it to her baby shower that weekend. Instead of focusing on myself, I was more worried about offending someone by not showing to their baby shower.
This is where the feeling of being alone with no one to relate to crept in. We had kept this pregnancy a secret. Now, we not only had to tell our family that we were pregnant but tell them that we were losing the baby all within the same breath. This moment that was meant to be so exciting and beautiful was robbed. The joy was stolen and all that was left was shock and grief for us, our friends, and our family.
I didn’t know who to talk to or who to call. No one I knew had had a miscarriage or at least didn’t talk about it if they had.
That weekend was spent riding waves of physical and emotional pain, grief, agony, loss, and abandonment. I took to social media to tell people about what we were walking through. I was amazed to see the comment section filled with stories from women I actually already knew who had miscarried before.
I asked myself, why doesn’t anyone talk about this? Why is all of this so taboo? No one should ever feel this lonely when walking through such a miserable time. No one.
I finally got to hold my baby on Sunday night. The contractions began around 7 pm and were at the peak of intensity when I went to go sit and labor on the toilet. I felt something pass and when I wiped and brought the gestational sac and my baby earthside. Immediately the contractions stopped and I held my baby in the palm of my hand. So small, maybe the size of the nail bed of my index finger. I could make out their tiny nose, ears, eyes, forehead, little fingers. All of them starting to form.
I placed my baby onto a napkin and gently folded it with care, placed the napkin into a Ziploc bag and put it into the freezer until we could decide what to do. I texted my husband and told him that I had passed our baby. It was over.
I bled for almost 3 weeks after my miscarriage, and missed that feeling of being pregnant, but the hardest part was the emotional and spiritual recovery. I was so angry with God for ‘taking my baby’ and I started to self-medicate with alcohol. I was often angry and depressed. I decided to seek out counseling with a Christian therapist, and even though I basically sat there and cried the whole time, I did feel a little bit better after each session. My spiritual recovery has been a long road, but slowly and surely, I’m rediscovering the goodness of God and how he is faithful to redeem the lost and close to the brokenhearted. I feel forever changed and marked by this experience. I still miss my first baby and often cry when I think about who they would have been and what our lives would have looked like with them in it.
I ended up conceiving 3 months after my miscarriage and carried my rainbow baby full-term. The second time around we did not wait to tell our close friends and family. I decided it would be best to have that support already in place if things didn’t end well. Even though anxiety was a constant and I was always afraid of loving and losing another child, I ended up having a very redemptive and beautiful birth, and I find comfort in the realization that I would have never met Willa if I hadn’t lost my little Sparrow.
Ben and I finally buried Sparrow in a private intimate ceremony between the two of us a week before Willa was born. It was cathartic to have a burial and say our final goodbyes.
I talk openly about my miscarriage and I will send a card, care package, and or meal to someone I know who is experiencing one. I never want another woman to feel alone in that process.
When strangers ask if Willa is our first, I often tell them, “No. We lost our first through miscarriage and Willa is our rainbow baby.” Acknowledging it helps to break the stigma and opens the door for people to ask questions or talk about miscarriage and loss.
proclaimed foodie and animal lover, she works as a birth doula and is passionate about helping her
clients have empowering and positive birth experiences and ending birth trauma through preparation, education, and information.
You can connect with her at www.birthdoulabrittany.com or on Instagram at @birth_doula_brittany or
on her personal twitter @britts.table
- My Loss Story - May 4, 2019
