My Miscarriage

"The worst thing a mother goes through is having to give her sweet angel back to heaven".

A year ago tomorrow I learned I had lost our baby. It’s hard to believe it’s been a year already. So much has happened in the space that filled that time. I never got the chance to properly mourn the loss of our child. Truth be told, everything got out of hand with my health so quickly that I couldn’t. I had such high hopes of being a mom, of having a birth that was not in a hospital and that was guided by a midwife as opposed to a doctor. Most importantly I had such high hopes of giving birth to a healthy baby after a healthy pregnancy. I fully expected to be spending time at this point with my almost 5 month old and enjoying motherhood. Instead a year ago today I traveled to first see my midwife and shortly after we couldn’t detect a heartbeat to the hospital for an ultrasound, it was there that it was confirmed that I was losing our baby. I was given options as to how to proceed and I chose to let my pregnancy pass naturally at home. It was at that point in my life one of the hardest physical and emotional experiences I had gone through. I had no idea at the time this was the start of the war. I had no idea my body had launched its first attack at me.

I was distraught, I was traumatized. I had already started having symptoms that would later be used to diagnose Antiphospholipid Syndrome. About 3 days after the miscarriage I began having Silent Migraines. I would get the visual auras but the headache phase of the migraine I was use to getting afterwards wouldn’t arrive. I started having up to 10 of these a day. This continued all summer. Silly me thought that because I wasn’t getting the headache though that it was an improvement, that it was a sign that my migraines were getting better. Hindsight is always 20/20. I know now that there was a big error in my thinking and that I should have gotten into the care of a doctor right away. Things happen for a reason though. So I try not to beat myself up too much over my lack of acknowledging there was a problem at that point. If I’m really honest with myself though, even last June there was a little voice in the back of my mind telling me that something was wrong, that something wasn’t right somewhere and I needed help. I convinced myself it was because of the emotional turmoil of the miscarriage. I also thought it was possibly hormonal, so I began taking herbal supplements to help my body flush excess hormones. This was back when I still believed herbal treatments could solve everything.

I tried hard last summer to be the smiling happy person my friends were accustomed to me being.  Inside I was torn apart though. I was experiencing a grief like none other. It’s amazing how quickly you begin loving a tiny human being when you get pregnant. I never got to hold my child, or see them in a form that is recognizable as a human child. Still to this day I miss them more than words can express. A part of me left with them. I do not know if I am mourning my son or my daughter. My instinct is that it was going to be a son. I can not explain why I feel this way, but I do. Sometimes I refer to them in the male form. It just feels right. When he left this world I learned that sometimes broken hearts don’t heal. I don’t think they are meant to, sometimes it’s the pain that reminds us that these moments were real.

I heard so many times over the last year, that the pain would go away, that the hurt would eventually fade to the background. That someday I would wake up and eventually when I thought about my child the pain wouldn’t be there. I haven’t gotten there yet. We made it through all the milestones. They were all painful. We made it to when my baby shower would have been. That sucked. We made it to December, that month when we should have been in the homestretch, awaiting the arrival of our baby. Then we made it to Dec. 27th. That magical date that the calculator spit out when they entered in my conception information and they estimated my due date. That really sucked. So on top of all the anxiety of being sick, and the diagnosis, and doctor appointments, and all this, we made it through to our due date, and was empty.

Now we’ve made it past that first Mother’s Day and it was awful. It should have been my first Mother’s Day as a mom. Instead I spent it thanking people who acknowledged the fact that I was the mom to an angel. It was heartbreaking. I also spent the day with my family and I had to lock myself in the bathroom to cry a couple of times just to let the emotions out so I could continue being the happy person the day required me to be for them.

Now here we sit, May 28th, 2014. This marks the eve of learning we had lost our baby.  I was already aboard a hijacked train that I had no idea I was on. 1 year ago Antiphospholipid Syndrome and Lupus were already beginning to make their marks on my life. 1 year ago they had already taken a life from me, they had taken my child from me.

My heart hurts no less at this point in time than it hurt a year ago. I honestly don’t think this is a hurt that ever goes away. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of him. There’s not a day that goes by, that I don’t feel like a part of me died that day, that a part of me is forever missing.

 

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32 thoughts on “My Miscarriage

  1. I do not like when people say “with time it gets easier” – that’s not true. With time, we get used to the pain. We return to our happy selves, but that miscarriage will always have a lingering effect.

    I am so terribly sorry for your loss. I can relate, and if you ever need to talk, I am here.

    I hope with time we can return to happiness, not pain free, but coping. ❤

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Kristen,
      Thank you for reaching out. That is the way I look at it. In time happiness returns, the loss become part of your life, and through that process our child lives on in memory. I am sorry you have had to come to know that pain. I am here as well if you ever need a shoulder.
      Thank you again for reaching out.
      Nicole

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I know exactly what you are going through. After my miscarriage was when my body began it’s attack as well. Time doesn’t heal all wounds but it helps us cope better. I still think about my angel, whether it was a he or a she. I still mourn the lost of that child. And I feel as if I’m a mom of three even though I only have two physical children. I wish you all the best ❤️

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  3. Your writing so well portrayed what mothers go through after a miscarriage. I know because I went through one as well, shortly after we got married before I got pregnant with my daughter. I, too, believed it was a so. He would have been 15 years old this summer. Some people were in a hurry for me to get past it, it seemed to be the ones who had not gone through one but my husband understood & that meant the world, as did my grandmother who just called and said, “I know baby, I’ve been there and I’m so sorry” and cried with me on the phone. You will never forget, you will always be affected by it, sometimes to tears, other times you won’t. It is not a slight thing to have someone, who’s a part of you grow inside of you along with so much hope and love and then suddenly they are gone. Emotions don’t turn off like a computer. Have patience with yourself. God bless!

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    1. Thank you for sharing your story with me. I have learned that it really is a pain that is felt deeper than any pain I’ve ever felt. I’m no stranger to grief but this is deeper than any grief I’ve ever felt before. You make a good point, those that have not experienced the loss of a child, a loss of that promise and hope that is felt when you find out you are carrying a life within your own, do not know how to be there for those that are going through it, nor understand the ‘timeframe’ that goes with this kind of loss. It isn’t a loss that one gets over. It is a loss that becomes part of a mother’s being. One doesn’t just lose a pregnancy, they lose a child when that pregnancy is lost. I have had a few instances where people have said to me, that they did not understand why I hurt so bad when I never got to hold my child, or see their face, that it makes no sense how I could miss someone that never was actually ‘here’. Again it is not something that can be explained to those that haven’t experienced it I don’t think. To those it was just the loss of a pregnancy, to us we lost a part of ourselves, our child, part of our future. There will always be questions as to what he would have been like, birthdays will always be empty, and today will come each year. It may not always be painful, but even if when it is painful, I cherish it, because to me it is a reminder that he was real, even if it was just for a brief few weeks. I am sorry for your loss, I am glad your husband and grandmother were there and supportive, that I know helped a lot. I have had amazing support during this part of my journey, and I know I would be at a loss without it.

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    1. hugs, thanks love. as odd as this will sound, there is comfort in the pain. I feel like if I didn’t feel this way, something would be wrong with me. This pain reminds me that he was real, that what I experienced was motherhood, I may not get to hold my child in my arms here on earth but I take comfort in knowing that he never had to experience pain, ill feelings, anger, none of the negatives that this world has to offer. From the moment he was conceived until the moment he left all he felt was love, compassion, and joy. There is comfort in that knowledge. It still hurts but I’ll take the comfort where I can find it.

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  4. At my father’s funeral, I suddenly understood something important about the nature of the grief I experienced after my miscarriages. The sight of all the people from all different facets of my father’s life was comforting to me, because they had come to funeral the grieve with me — because we each, in our own way, knew my father. But when you have a miscarriage, you are the only person who knew the deceased. Even for the baby’s father that baby will likely still be very much an abstract concept, but for you who felt the physical changes in your body that baby was a life. Because no one else experienced that life, you grieve the loss of it alone. .Realizing this helped me immensely, because I stopped feeling like I was crazy to be feeling the loss so much more intensely than anyone around me.

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  5. I actually don’t know what to say. I think you’re just amazing for still being so strong despite the challenges in your life! I’ll pray for you! Thanks for sharing. I never thought it’s that hard. I always thought it’s better than losing your child when he’s already born. But I was wrong.This really moved me.

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    1. Thank you. I can’t say that one is easier than the other. They both represent the loss of a life, the loss of one’s child. A miscarriage is still a birth in my opinion.

      I can tell you from my experience when I miscarried it was a birthing experience. I had contractions, pain, I gave birth to my child and all things that would signify a birth took place. It wasn’t just I had a pregnancy and then ceased to be pregnant. The child that was within didn’t magically disappear. I chose to allow my child to pass naturally instead of having a D&C. It felt right to me to allow this to happen. I had already decided to have a natural birth prior to getting pregnant, so it just felt right to allow the pregnancy to end naturally. I gained closure in this experience, in this mini-birth. In those moments I became a mother, even if it was a mother to an angel.

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  6. I’m amazed by your strength and openness. You have so many challenges facing you, yet you do so with dignity and great courage. Thank you for sharing your life with us. Hugs. 🙂

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    1. Thank you. I wish I could say my entire journey has been full of courage and dignity, but it hasn’t. Even as I type this I feel there are moments I could be stronger, that I’m not facing my challenges ‘properly’ (not that there is ever a right way to navigate these sorts of things). I’ll share those stories too as time allows because I feel people need to know that those emotions, and those moments are okay too. They are part of the process, and part of the healing that needs to take place. Thank you for allowing me to share my journey with you and for being there for me! Hugs!

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  7. Nicole, I don’t know what your spiritual beliefs are, but I firmly believe your baby is safe and with you in spirit, but the timing just wasn’t right. Sometimes a soul has to back out from that lifetime, and it is best for both the child and the mother. I hope this isn’t going too far, but imagine you did give birth to him. Do you think you could emotionally handle going through this journey with your illness and still have enough time and energy to raise your child? Would it be healthy for you both, or would you worry constantly whether or not you had passed down your illnesses to him?

    It is not my intent to upset you with these questions, you may not want to think about these things yet. But you seem so strong that I feel I can ask. My mother had two miscarriages in my lifetime, one was before I was born, her first pregnancy, and during the other I was in about 10 or 11th grade. I would feel their absence sometimes. When I began working with mediums and channeling, I consulted my spirit guides about the two children. I asked if they were safe and happy, and I was told yes. I can sometimes feel their presence around me, now that I have opened myself to it.But, my family has been tumultuous over the years, so it is no wonder such a thing would occur twice. Also, they didn’t have the financial resources last time. It would have been unhealthy for all involved.

    So just my thoughts, but I love your writing the more I read it, and the first year after anything is the hardest. I read something yesterday, such as, after a thing initially happens, every time you think back on it you are simply remembering the last time you recalled it. It changed the way I see things a bit. Good luck and just know your son (or daughter) loves you no matter what.

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    1. Liz,
      Thank you for this. Shortly after my miscarriage I was overwhelmed by the feeling of peace and I knew then that my little one had returned because it was not time for his soul to enter this world.I know it was a boy not because of an ultrasound, or medical test. Spiritually I know it was a son. That sense of peace still washes over me from time to time. I still mourn the loss, I will for some time, but I know it was meant to be, otherwise I would be holding him in my arms today. As for passing along my illnesses…Lupus there is a slight possibility I could have passed that along to a child of mine. Less likely with a son. My other condition even less likely. The larger concerns is how medically involved pregnancies and deliveries will be if we decide to get pregnant in the future. That is a whole other story to come later.
      It really is amazing how things play out. I have lost a lot because of this, but at the same time, I’m gaining. I just have to remember that last bit. Thank you so much for reaching out and posting this.We have similar spiritual leanings I believe, so don’t ever hesitate sharing your thoughts with me. 🙂 Even if they differ I am fairly open minded and accepting.
      (((hugs)))

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      1. Thanks Nicole, it is really nice to talk to you about these spiritual matters. I’m glad to hear you can still have children in the future, I didn’t think you’d mentioned. I hope whatever happens is the right choice. Return hugs to you friend, and I look forward to speaking with you more soon.

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      2. It’s something we haven’t decided is the right option. The option is still there though, it just comes with a lot of thought, risks, and the pregnancy and delivery will be high risk and my entire medical team will have to be involved. My Hematologist said absolutely not for this first year until we get everything under control but after that we can start talking about it. Which puts me on the exact opposite of where I saw the births of my children happening prior to all this.Talk again soon!

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      3. I’ve thought about it. My husband who is older than me has two adopted children from a previous marriage. They are grown and have lost contact with him. It’s a possibility but I want children of my own if at all possible. However, when I was 19 I almost adopted two children that were at a daycare center I worked at. Their great-aunt ended up adopting them instead though.

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      4. I don’t blame you for wanting your own children. There is no other biological drive that is stronger, really. I’ll be interested to see what ends up transpiring for you.

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      5. Me too honestly. That drive didn’t kick in until I was 25. It blindsided me. I went from never wanting kids to having to have them. Then we finally got to a point of trying, got pregnant quick and lost him. Then everything else happened and here we are today. It’s been a crazy ride to where I am at this moment in life. I know I am here for a reason and even though some parts of it really suck I have to keep reminding myself I’m here for a reason or this wouldn’t be the journey I’m on.

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      6. Yeah, definitely same here, I spend too much time wondering why when it’s obviously not meant to be known for a while. I guess I will have to see how I feel in a few years when I turn 25, maybe that is the magic number.

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      7. It happens at different ages for different women. Some of my friends have wanted children since they were teenagers, some have never wanted children and are past their childbearing years already. It hit me like a ton of bricks at 25. When they say there’s no stronger desire than that of motherhood, they aren’t joking, I’ve never felt anything like that before. Even now, while it still terrifies me I still feel that pull. We will see where things are at the year mark and reevaluate the situation.

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      8. That’s a good idea. I have had little tastes of it here and there, but nothing yet like what you have described. I hope whatever happens makes you the happiest, though.

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