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Where to begin. July 2011, I knew my symptoms where different for my body, but I hadn't received a positive test yet. I knew it was coming, just had to be patient and wait.
But it never came. Instead, the implantation bleeding stopped for a week, then restarted and became heavier and heavier. By time I realized this was no longer implantation bleeding, I headed to the doctor to confirm a miscarriage. Instead I hear...
"It's likely a miscarriage, but do you really want to delve down that road? Just go home and think it was a strange period, instead of depressing yourself."
Then he left the room. That was it. Nothing else. No test. No ultrasound. No checking to see if there was anything there. Or had been. Or could have been. Nothing. Dismissed.
I went home numb. Then I began researching. I figured out I was 4 1/2 weeks along. It took me a week and a half to complete the miscarriage. It had been too soon for positive test, and yet too late as well.
Thanks to this, nobody but my partner believed I had a miscarriage. All I needed to tell people was a white lie that the doctor did say yes, it was. Or that I did indeed see a pink line. But I don't lie. Thanks to those minor details, despite myself knowing my body well and how unusual that 'period' was for myself...I didn't know what I was talking about.
To this day, I firmly believe I was pregnant. I can't explain it. For a week or two I had been telling my partner, "Something is different. I feel different. I don't feel alone."
The idea of being pregnant didn't dawn on me until one week after the implantation bleeding, and just a few days before the miscarriage. In that small time frame, I imagined a nursery, names, a life with my child.
And it was gone.
A few months after the miscarriage, I begged God to let me speak to my child. Just to see them. To know if it was a boy or girl. That night, and only that night, I had a dream of a little dirty-blonde girl running up to me, "Mommy!" she wrapped her arms around my waist and I smiled at her.
I woke up. That was it. So simple. But I knew...this was my daughter. My partner and I named her Taylor Austin, and I have since strived to seek better support and help for those who miscarry. Even early miscarriages. I've started a blog and I'm very public about my experience as it was the most traumatizing event I have ever experienced.
We are not TTC now, due to another significant loss a year after Tay, but we do hope one day we can have a family, and share Taylor's name with her siblings. Thankfully, my mother has come around recently and admits she, too, knew she was pregnant before a test said she was. So I do have her support now, as well.
Sorry this was so long. I just feel that leaving any part of that out is just simplifying such a horrible experience.
But it never came. Instead, the implantation bleeding stopped for a week, then restarted and became heavier and heavier. By time I realized this was no longer implantation bleeding, I headed to the doctor to confirm a miscarriage. Instead I hear...
"It's likely a miscarriage, but do you really want to delve down that road? Just go home and think it was a strange period, instead of depressing yourself."
Then he left the room. That was it. Nothing else. No test. No ultrasound. No checking to see if there was anything there. Or had been. Or could have been. Nothing. Dismissed.
I went home numb. Then I began researching. I figured out I was 4 1/2 weeks along. It took me a week and a half to complete the miscarriage. It had been too soon for positive test, and yet too late as well.
Thanks to this, nobody but my partner believed I had a miscarriage. All I needed to tell people was a white lie that the doctor did say yes, it was. Or that I did indeed see a pink line. But I don't lie. Thanks to those minor details, despite myself knowing my body well and how unusual that 'period' was for myself...I didn't know what I was talking about.
To this day, I firmly believe I was pregnant. I can't explain it. For a week or two I had been telling my partner, "Something is different. I feel different. I don't feel alone."
The idea of being pregnant didn't dawn on me until one week after the implantation bleeding, and just a few days before the miscarriage. In that small time frame, I imagined a nursery, names, a life with my child.
And it was gone.
A few months after the miscarriage, I begged God to let me speak to my child. Just to see them. To know if it was a boy or girl. That night, and only that night, I had a dream of a little dirty-blonde girl running up to me, "Mommy!" she wrapped her arms around my waist and I smiled at her.
I woke up. That was it. So simple. But I knew...this was my daughter. My partner and I named her Taylor Austin, and I have since strived to seek better support and help for those who miscarry. Even early miscarriages. I've started a blog and I'm very public about my experience as it was the most traumatizing event I have ever experienced.
We are not TTC now, due to another significant loss a year after Tay, but we do hope one day we can have a family, and share Taylor's name with her siblings. Thankfully, my mother has come around recently and admits she, too, knew she was pregnant before a test said she was. So I do have her support now, as well.
Sorry this was so long. I just feel that leaving any part of that out is just simplifying such a horrible experience.
I agree my doctor could have definitely been more helpful or at least said, "It was probably a miscarriage, but there is no way to confirm it" or something. But no, he just told me to ignore it and go home.
