October is Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness month and it is more important now than maybe ever to hear women’s stories. Let’s connect more about our actual lived experiences rather than passing around inaccurate or hurtful memes that garner likes and like-minded comments, that fuel more divide and less community. I’m sharing my story in hopes that it will broaden your perspective on a topic you may not have experienced, but have a strong opinion about. Or maybe a story you have lived and realize now that you are not alone in this journey of motherhood, whether achieved or not. One that affects many lives, both mentally and physically.

Two Under Two!

In November 2017, I found out I was pregnant with our second baby just after our oldest daughter turned one. I couldn’t wait to have two under two. I had my first ultrasound around 7 weeks due to some spotting but baby looked good and there was a strong heartbeat. We found out that the baby was due on my birthday. It was all falling into place. We told our immediate family right away and then announced to my husband’s extended family at Christmas that we were expecting, in particular his 90-year old grandmother, who we adored. I was around nine or ten weeks at this point. From about six weeks to eleven weeks I experienced “morning sickness”. I would begin my days throwing up and feeling miserable, eat a plain bagel or brown sugar pop tart and then feel nauseous the rest of the day. I had it bad enough with my first pregnancy that I was put on medicine until about 24 weeks, so I knew I was probably in it for the long haul. We made our public announcement on New Years about a week before my 12-week appointment.

I was sick, but feeling good and had no hesitation that something would be wrong. You can announce the second you find out and get to greet everyone with a healthy, full-term baby or you can wait until “you’re in the clear” and still lose the baby at 24 weeks. Pregnancy is such a unique, individualized experience and you should treat each as such. Yes, I announced “early”, but the love and support I received also carried me through the trauma of the next six months I would not have had if I hadn’t announced.

A few days before my twelve-week appointment I noticed I wasn’t feeling as nauseous and thanked God that he was giving me a break this time, ending morning sickness around the time most other people did. Maybe it was a boy!

Our Heartbreak

We all went to my twelve-week appointment, excited to see Dr. Miller for the first time. We had heard she was amazing but could never get in to see her. This was a gift in and of itself. I talked to her about how I was feeling, that the sickness was starting to go away and couldn’t wait to hear the baby’s heartbeat. I got the gel on my stomach and she started searching… and searching. She didn’t seem alarmed but said she was having a hard time finding it, deciding to bring in the ultrasound machine so she could see it. I had no hesitations that she wouldn’t.

I was wrong. There was no heartbeat.

My world shattered. My baby’s heart stopped beating. I should have known. My body failed me. I failed my baby. What did I do wrong? The questions and anxiety racing through my mind were endless. We were sent to the hospital to get a better ultrasound to confirm, yet again, that there was no heartbeat. How do you tell your loved ones you just lost the baby you so excitedly told them was on the way? Your brave, mourning husband does, while you sob from his side. It’s a blur in my memory actually.

At our next appointment, I was given options. I could wait to see if the pregnancy naturally takes care of itself, but we could be waiting for weeks, take a pill to start the process or have surgery. Waiting it out seemed like agony, but surgery felt like a lot to consider in that moment, so I opted for the pill.

I was coaching club soccer at the time and we had an indoor tournament on the following Monday. I took the pill on Friday, thinking I would have the whole weekend to recover, bringing my parents in to support me so they could help us with my daughter. I cramped. I bled. I sobbed. All weekend. Come Monday, I was still bleeding and cramping. There was no backup coach, so off I went to coach at an all-day tournament, while I was still miscarrying, crying in the bathroom in-between games.

When I got home, I felt like something was wrong. I called my doctor and she confirmed with me that I hadn’t in fact passed enough, and that I was going to need the surgery. I was going to need an abortion.

The procedure itself and the physical recovery was quick, however my mental healing was just beginning. Did you know that after a miscarriage you have to return for bloodwork every week until your body’s HCG levels are showing that you are no longer pregnant? Or at least I did. I had to go back to my OBGYN’s office every week, for EIGHT WEEKS. It took two months for my body to get back to zero. Two months of weekly reminders that I was no longer pregnant, even though my body thought I was, surrounded by swollen bellies in the waiting room. The mental toll from this process alone was heavy.

At my final appointment with Dr. Miller, she was behind an hour on appointments, yet still took the time to see how I was doing both physically and mentally. She recommended a local therapist who helps postpartum moms with mental health and again, I was given a gift.

Recovery

For the next six years, I saw this therapist, sometimes weekly, monthly or quarterly, depending on how I was doing. She helped me process this loss, manage my anxiety with my next pregnancy, and supported me through the postpartum depression and anxiety I developed six months after having my rainbow baby. I went through days of sheer gratitude and delight and days of misery and darkness, where I wasn’t sure if anyone would really miss me.

Every birthday I experienced after this loss, I consciously or subconsciously would struggle. A milestone I never got to, with a baby I never got to hold. I’ve talked to women who have shared their own stories with me, years after their own heartbreak, shedding tears like it happened yesterday. The experiences we as mothers and as women go through are deeply personal. We not only sacrifice our physical bodies but our mental well-being as well.

A Call To Action

My story is not uncommon, but it is one that is not shared enough. We all have our own belief systems and what we may or may not do when presented with difficult circumstances. I believe our souls are our own to protect and that our decisions as women should be trusted to be doing what is best for us and our family in that moment, whether it be religiously, physically or mentally. No one else has the right to choose whether we live or die and how the course of the rest of our lives should be determined.

I’m forever thankful that my doctor was able to provide me the care I needed so I didn’t have to continue bleeding out in a parking lot, begging for someone to help me. I was helped. Right now in politics there is a fight to “save the babies”, but what about the mothers? What happens to mothers who land in states where there are no exceptions or they have to be in sepsis before they’ll be helped? What happens if your egg implants in the wrong place, making the pregnancy non-viable and life-threatening to the mother? Or any of the other scenarios that come up throughout a pregnancy that leave unbearable decisions for a mother to make? You’re not pro-life if the only life you consider is that of an unborn fetus.

The life of the mother, the lives of the children and loved ones she is leaving behind, should be considered just as much as the one living (or in my case, not living) inside of her. They are not decisions that are being taken lightly and they are ones that are forever altering the chemistry in women all around you. My lived experience gave me a new perspective into what these policies actually mean, and I hope by sharing my story, it will give you one, too. It does not mean that you would make the same choices as your friends, family or neighbors, but it does mean that you have a choice to make educated decisions about your own lived experiences so your doctor can provide you the healthcare you deserve.

I stand by the mothers. I stand behind the women. I stand for my daughters. Will you?

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National Maternal Mental Health Hotline: Call or text 1-833-TLC-MAMA (1-833-852-6262) for free, confidential support 24/7.Counselors are available in English, Spanish, and over 60 other languages. 

Postpartum Support International (PSI): Call or text “HELP” to 1-800-944-4773 for information, resources, and support groups.PSI is not a crisis hotline and does not handle emergencies. 

National Crisis Text Line: Text HOME to 741741 from anywhere in the USA, anytime, about any type of crisis

Thanks for stopping in! Let’s stay connected and see the world together!