our heartbreak

this post is not easy to write. it won’t be easy to read. if you choose to continue i have a few parameters i would like to set into place.

this is my blog. these are my words. my thoughts. my perspective. not my husbands. he reads my blog. he reads posts, like this one, before i publish for the world to read. i am asking that for the people that know him, you respect that these are my words, not his. if you have questions, comments, feedback of any kind, direct them to me. i write about many shared experiences but from my viewpoint only. it is unfair to discuss with him my thoughts. i can not reiterate this enough, these are my words.

my purpose in writing my story in such a public way is because of all the reading i have done, and it has been extensive, i haven’t found an experience similar to mine. my goal is to reach someone, just one person, to let them know they are not alone. maybe i will then, not feel so alone and different.

a few posts back i eluded that there would be a big announcement. an announcement that was making me exhausted. we found out in june that we were pregnant. without hormones. without doctor visits. without any medical interventions. the test had a plus sign. the sign i never believed i would see. not on my own. then six tests later, still positive it started to sink in. we were pregnant.

8 weeks later, this past monday afternoon, i had a miscarriage.

here is my story.

7 weeks pregnant. i was nauseous all the time. i was happier than i have ever been. after every “sick” moment i would stare at myself while brushing my teeth and just smile. i felt so tired, all the time, so sick, and so very happy. we had an ultrasound and saw our 1.09cm baby. we saw a strong 135 bpm heartbeat. we have never heard a heartbeat before. it filled the room. it was the most amazing, beautiful noise i have ever heard. everything was going great. every night we would say goodnight to our baby and reiterate to each other how thankful we were.

7w6d pregnant, last sunday afternoon, i started having light cramps. worry started to creep in. around 2am monday morning i awoke to heavy bleeding and moderate cramps. i woke dylan up. we cried. we tried to prepare ourselves for what we thought was, then, a miscarriage. i called the on-call doctor and received instructions. we opted to stay at home and meet another doctor at the office at 8am.

by 8am the bleeding and cramps were significantly less. the drive to the doctor was the longest drive. we knew we would get an ultrasound first. how do you prepare yourself to see nothing? we were trying.

the ultrasound shocked us completely. there wasn’t nothing. there was everything. our baby. it had grown in just the 6 days since our last ultrasound. its heartbeat was up to 145 bpm. the ultrasound tech said there was bleeding in my cervix but everything was looking good. dylan and i were in shock. happy, thankful, confused shock.

we then headed to speak with one of the doctors. not my doctor. the only doctor in the practice that i had strong feelings of dislike, but she was the only one there at that time. she examines me, says my cervix is closed and everything looked fine. she spoke with us about our due date and then sent us on our way.

2 hours later. 2. hours. after hearing our heartbeat i was in the worst pain in my life miscarrying our everything.

only i didn’t realize i was having a miscarriage. i was told things like “when you have a miscarriage you will know without any doubt” and “you will immediately feel an emptiness throughout your body.” after all. i had just seen the heartbeat. and a thriving baby. there was no way i was miscarrying. in fact, after 5 hours of non-stop horrific pain, i felt amazing. a euphoric high. not empty. not sad. i was exhausted and felt great. (can you already sense the amount of guilt i have been battling? what kind of person feels “great” after a miscarriage?)

we decided we were going to wait a few days before going back to the doctor. we knew we hadn’t miscarried, we pieced together that my body was ridding itself of the blood in my cervix. when my doctor called tuesday morning and insisted i come in for an ultrasound and exam, i initially said i wanted to wait. but again, this was my doctor, so i decided to go ahead. dylan wasn’t even planning on going with me. why would he? we both thought this visit was excessive. it wasn’t until the appointment time got closer and closer and i started realizing that the everyday nauseousness that i had been feeling was suddenly absent. i called and asked him to meet me there. luckily, he did.

we were laughing together in the ultrasound room. we had no idea. just 24 hours earlier we had expected life changing horrible news and received great news. then the ultrasound screen appeared and there was nothing.

nothing.

shock. anger. sadness. sadness. shock. despair. anger. sadness.

then we go to meet with my doctor. she says after looking at the ultrasound from the day before she could see bleeding behind the placenta. it is a pretty common reason for miscarriages and doesn’t increase my chances for future miscarriage. (none of this at the time is making anything better obviously. but it does now.) we leave the office and slowly piece together all these events that have led us to this moment.

anger. this is ongoing. i have major anger towards the doctor we saw on monday morning. after hearing my doctor on tuesday say that when looking at the ultrasound she could see we were going to likely miscarry, we immediately realized that the doctor from monday never looked at the ultrasound. the first and last thing she mentioned to us was a discussion about due dates!?!? are you kidding me?? can you imagine how our story would be different if we had been prepared in some way about what was going to happen? i understand nothing could have been done. the end result would be the same. but the journey and recovery would have been completely different.

guilt. i feel guilt every single day. typically it is a different reason. my imagination is creative like that. i asked point blank to my doctor why i felt so amazing after the pain had stopped. she reassured me that it wasn’t me at all. it was my body in a euphoric state from all the adrenaline required to do, well, what it was suppose to be doing. okay. so that makes sense. when i am not crying on the floor. it is kinda hard to think rationally in those moments. and why didn’t i feel “empty” after? clearly i am not meant to be a mother. see. guilt. it is nasty. it is ugly. it will tear a person apart if you let it. i am fighting it like hell. more than once every day. we battle.

this goes back to my goal for writing in such detail my story. if someone can read this and see herself in just part of my story, she won’t feel isolated. maybe not so guilty.

moving forward.

we are. one step at a time. sometimes laughing. sometimes crying. all the time loving each other in ways neither one of us thought possible. dylan took most of last week off. we spoiled each other with affection and support. we made goals. we are planning a way to memorialize our little one. it is so hard. it would be easy to stay in bed and pull the covers over our heads. block out the world. we make the choice to get up. to go outside. to go out to eat. it is actually nice to be treated like everyone else from strangers. they don’t know our world has been devastated.

moving forward means we want to be treated the same way we were before. i don’t want the sad faces. the crying. the excessive talking. dylan and i are leaning on each other for that. we are a strong unit and only getting stronger. and seriously can’t people just say, “i am sorry for your loss.” that one statement shows you understand the gravity of my sadness and you wish you could take away our pain. seriously. what more needs to be said.

on that note, what more needs to be said? we appreciate our family and the small circle of friends that knew we were pregnant. we have felt their love throughout this entire journey. we are so grateful for each one of you.

tomorrow guarantees to be a happy post. you see today my best friend (also known as my husband) surprised me with an afternoon adventure. i knew i needed my muck boots. and now i have 50lbs of peaches and several lbs. of apples in my kitchen ready to be canned. it was a simple, happy day with my favorite guy and i can’t wait to share our smiles with you.

6 comments
Leah Dunlap
Leah Dunlap

I am sorry you had to go through this. I had two miscarraiges before I got pregnant with my Ruthie...the emotional rollercoater is nothing less than Hell. And the wondering if I would ever be able to have a child was difficult to say the least. I had the same feelings of elation and euphoria after the miscarraiges and found it was a hormonal response related to a huge release of endorphins (much like the body releases after delivery of a baby), so please don't feel guilty about it as it isn't your fault. I ended up being so worried that the third time I got pregnant I didn't even tell my parents until I was 14 weeks. I didn't think I could bear everyone's condolensces again, especially from the very pregnant lady at work who insisted on "helping me through it." She was the LAST person I wanted to see!!! Miscarraige is apparently a very common but not discussed event. If more people were open about it, I don't think women who experience it would feel such guilt and isolation (at least maybe not as much). It is definitely not an easy thing to deal with. Thank you for posting your story.

Katie
Katie

I am so very sorry for your loss. I think of you daily :)

Sarah
Sarah

I'm sorry for your loss. you are in my thoughts.

Anonymous
Anonymous

So very sorry to read this. You are both in my prayers.

naomi
naomi

I love you both so much and hope each day is a little easier, and I can't wait for my apple butter and peachy goodness. And running. Two little short chubby chicks running. Enough reason to smile while imagining big bootay bouncing. Did I mention I love you?