now I know how it feels

[emptybc]

I used to hear people tell me about miscarriages. I used to feel awful for them. After a while, I would wonder why they were still sad. I knew that it had to be hard, but why, after so many months, were they still so sad?
Then I had my first miscarriage.
I remember seeing those two red lines. I looked back at it time and time again just to make sure that I wasn’t just seeing double. I felt all the symptoms. I was dizzy. My breasts hurt like crazy. And the smell of everything made me want to vomit everywhere.
I had been super sick with my first pregnancy, which ended with my wonderful son. I remember this time not throwing up and feeling so lucky that I was like all of the people I had always envied who never actually got sick, they just didn’t feel well sometimes.
The weeks passed, and although I felt fine, and my belly was growing, deep down I felt something was wrong. The doctors continued to tell me different due dates and possible conception dates. I knew when I conceived. I knew when my little nugget was supposed to come. I felt them growing inside me. I felt my belly expanding.
One day I looked down and there it was… the small amount of blood that was signaling the end of my nugget. Of course, I didn’t worry at first. I had heard so many stories of women getting full on “periods” during pregnancy and going on to have healthy babies. So I called my doctor in the middle of the night. I spoke to the on-call doctor and they said not to worry, it was perfectly normal for a little bleeding in the first trimester. If I was still concerned in the morning, I could ask for an appointment from my OBGYN. When I spoke to them, they told me the same thing. “Don’t worry. It is perfectly normal. No need to come in.” I knew they were probably right, but I asked for an appointment anyway. I was told that I would come in for an ultrasound and I would only see the doctor if something was wrong. Looking back, I wonder why they said that.
Lying there on the bed, the ultrasound technician looking for my tiny bean’s heartbeat which I had heard just the week before. I knew right away something was wrong. Where was that little flutter?
“Okay, Mrs. Cobb. We are opening up a room for you to see the doctor”.
My heart dropped to the floor. I knew I had lost the baby. As I waited for what seemed like forever, I tried to stay calm and not freak out over no news.
If my life depended on it, I could not tell you what happened over the next few hours. I remember calling my husband and trying to stay calm. I know I started driving home. I know I got there safe. I must have scheduled the D and C, because I knew it was the next day. Other than that, my world was black.
The next day was as much a blur as it was as clear as day. I kept telling myself it was only a dream. This couldn’t be happening to me. I had already had a baby before. They must be wrong. I prayed before I went into the operating room that I would wake and the doctor would tell me that they had misread the ultrasound the day before. They had done one last ultrasound before the operation and realized that my nugget was just fine. Only it wasn’t just fine when I woke up. It was no longer inside me. Never would I fell it kick for the first time. Never would I feel the beginning of labor pains.
It’s funny. I had been so happy to have not been sick. To have not had the horrible experience I had with my son. And now… I would give anything to be sick all day. I would give anything to have to go to the physical therapist three times a week due to my back pain. What I wouldn’t give to know that I would be able to hold that little bean in my arms.
Everyone told me that I would get easier over time. Over time, I would forget how bad I hurt. My hormones would even out and I would be ok.
They were partially right. It did get easier. My hormones settled down. I could get through hours without crying. Then days. I couldn’t believe that I had ever not understood the pain that was truly felt.
I have since had two more miscarriages. I pray every day for an answer. Do I continue to try? Do I decide I can no longer relive the horror that I felt the first time? I don’t know what I will do. I walk around day to day. Praying for an answer. Praying that the pain will go away. Praying that I can find peace with what is. I can't believe I ever wondered why it was that after months of time to grieve, my friends still weren't themselves. Who knows if we'll ever be the same again.

 

[karoolia]

Well said. I was just thinking back to when my cousin had a miscarriage in the fall. I sent an "I'm so sorry" message and left it at that. Mainly because I had no idea what to say. Now I feel like I should have said so much more. You really can't know until you've been there.

 

[emptybc]

I don't think there is anything to say. Other than to just be there. I also think that a big problem is that no one talks about miscarriages. I didn't know how common they were until I had one myself.

 

[Trying4first1]

Thanks for sharing your story.
I would say the pain stays with you but it does get easier.
I have lost 4 now over the past three years and have no children. The fear that I will not be a mother is always there but the drive to carry on and the hope still remains.
If anything the experience will make you stronger.
I appreciate life so much more now and all the little things I took for granted before.
Don't give up hope your stronger than you think

 

[emptybc]

Thank you! It helps so much to know I'm not alone. The more we hear that it will be ok and get easier, the easier it gets.

 

[ricschick]

 

[LoriCroit]

You are definitely not alone. There are so many of us that have had miscarriages and the death of a child after birth. Being a person that has had both, I can say that its hard, really hard to go through it all...the grieving, the pain and hurt, the emotions that are roaring inside of you, and not knowing what was in the future. But things do eventually get better over time.

When my week old daughter passed away after a difficult pregnancy, I was devastated. I didn't know where to turn or who to talk to. And the obvious answer was my husband, but he was dealing with it differently. (Men tend to not be as emotional and need the grieving that we ladies do.)

We were not church-goers at the time and something wonderful happened...we learned to pray together. We found comfort, sitting down having conversations and praying for guidance. It helped us grow closer and encouraged us to lean on God for understanding and direction.

I hope this was helpful. I will be praying for you and wishing for you the best possible outcome as you work your way through this grieving process. Take your time, it's natural to have these feelings.

 

[Kazy]

Thank you for sharing your story. I can completely relate. A very good friend of mine had a miscarriage about a year before me and I thought the same thing as you. I actually called her after my miscarriage to apologize to her for not being there for her.
I think you're right and that we never really are the same after. I've had two healthy children since my first miscarriage and pregnancy was never the same for me after. And even with those two healthy children I still have days where I could cry when I see a set of twins (lost my 4th daughters twin) or just have an emotional day thinking of the two that were lost.
Praying that you find peace and that over time you find the answers that you're looking for. I know that God has given me much peace in the midst of grief. And I'm praying he does the same for you.

 

[emptybc]

Thank you both for your kind words. There are times where praying truly helps me get through the day. There are other times, where it only makes me mad and makes me question why it happened to me. What did I do to deserve this? Luckily, those days seem to be getting farther and farther apart. My mom told me something the other day that has helped me so much. "In the end, it will all be ok. If it isn't ok, then it isn't the end". (She quoted a movie). I know it sounds so simple, but I have been telling myself over and over.