Miscarriages Suck

I’m sure you already knew that, but it can’t hurt to say it out loud anyway. I know they suck because I just had one. I’ve actually sat down to write this post the day after finding out our little baby didn’t make it.

Not because I want to freak others out into thinking that this might happen to them (it probably won’t). But because I’ve been comforted by hearing from and reading the stories of others who have experienced something similar and I hope to do the same for someone else.

It’s unfortunate that something that affects so many of us is something that we don’t talk too openly about.

I get it, it’s tough.

The last thing you feel like doing is talking about it. We knew that by telling people we were expecting early on, there was a chance we would also have to tell people if it didn’t work out.

Sure, it was tough to tell people about the miscarriage (we had been telling family and friends individually, but the torture of repeating the news over and over got so painful I ended up writing a Facebook post. It hurt to write, but was easier than having to repeat ourselves and go through the emotions all over again with every new person we spoke to).

In saying that, I don’t think I would do anything differently a second time around.

I feel that by knowing about the expectant baby, our friends, family, and colleagues had shared in the excitement, and were very quickly able to empathise with what we were experiencing when they found out the same news.

That’s not to say I think there’s anything wrong with others who choose to keep the news to themselves. It’s definitely a personal choice, and for us, this approach has helped us in some ways (don’t get me wrong, it sucks no matter how you go about it).

For us, the news our baby hadn’t made it was totally unexpected, a complete surprise.

I had been (what I thought) was lucky through my first 10 weeks of pregnancy.

Found out I was pregnant at around 4 weeks, went for a scan at 6, all good. Hadn’t really felt sick, but had been starving and craving a few weird foods (like tinned spaghetti on toast – gross!). I’d had a few cramps here and there, but nothing that I was really worried about.

It wasn’t until we were in the OB’s office for our first meeting at 10 and a half weeks when we realised something was wrong. He went through all the routine questions with us, said the cramps were probably nothing to worry about but suggested we take a quick look at the baby anyway.

I was pretty excited to see the baby for the second time so scooted over into the room with the scanning equipment and jumped onto the table for a squiz.

I think we both knew straight away that something wasn’t quite right. We could clearly see a small baby on the screen, but there didn’t appear to be any movement or sign of a heartbeat.

Plus, the OB wasn’t really saying anything.

Eventually, he sighed, said “This isn’t good. Unfortunately, there is no heartbeat.” So we got up slowly and headed back to his consult room to work out what to do next.

He was very kind and reassured us that there was nothing we had done to cause the miscarriage, sometimes it just happens (about 1 in every 6 times apparently) and its just bad luck (more than likely a chromosomal abnormality – nothing you can do about that).

He talked us through the options – have a procedure in the hospital next week, or just wait it out. He recommended the procedure, saying that by the looks of the fetus, it had stopped growing at around 8 and a half weeks, so since my body hadn’t worked that out yet, we couldn’t really be certain how long it would take for the miscarriage to actually happen.

We were told that there would be the same level of risk regardless of what we chose (any risk of something going wrong is small by the way), so we decided just to book into the hospital for the following week, have the procedure, and get it all over and done with.

We were pretty calm and sensible through this whole ordeal. I sat there quite calmly asking the Doctor sensible questions and discussing with Sam what we thought we should do. I even joked with Sam that he would have to find a new designated driver for our family trip down south to the wine region the following week.

Then we went out into the waiting room where we had to wait for the receptionist to book us in for the curette. That’s when the state of shock seemed to pass and I realised there were a whole bunch of emotions that were going to come rushing out and there was nothing I could do to hold them in.

I quickly said to Sam that I needed to leave the waiting room and could he tell the receptionist I had gone for a walk and I’d be back in a while.

I think there’s something about seeing a bunch of visibly pregnant women in a waiting room when you’ve just found out yours hasn’t made it that really tips you over the edge.

I’d made it just into the hallway when Sam caught up with me and grabbed me into a tight hug while I sobbed uncontrollably for a few minutes.

I decided I could hold it together for a few minutes, so we went back into the Doctor’s rooms and finished booking the appointment.

Since then it’s safe to say I’ve been pretty emotional.

I go through phases where I’m perfectly fine one minute and a total wreck the next. I know it’s normal to question whether you did something wrong.

Was it that glass of wine I had? That box I picked up that was maybe a bit too heavy? The tiny bit of soft cheese I ate by accident? The difflam lozenges I had without knowing you weren’t supposed to have them? (Which, by the way, doesn’t include a warning on the packaging. They were also very ignorant when I contacted them a couple of times – prior to all this happening – to suggest they update the info on their packages – FYI in case other unsuspecting pregnant ladies didn’t know).

I know it wasn’t any of those things.

I think the best advice I heard was from my OB. He said, “It’s ok to feel sad, but it’s not ok to feel guilty”. So I’m just going to stick with that until I feel better again.

For anyone else reading this who is going through or who has had a miscarriage before.

I’m sorry. I know it sucks.

I’m not sure anything really helps, but for me, talking to family, friends and taking some time off just to work through the emotions seems to be getting me through.

We have been amazed by the number of people who have contacted us personally (both ladies contacting me and guys contacting Sam privately) saying that the same thing has happened to them. Their understanding of what we’re going through has been of great comfort and given us hope and encouragement for moving on.

I’ve also had a look at a couple of online resources that have made me feel better and given me some hope for trying again in the future:

• Net Mum’s have a forum where ladies talk about miscarriage and their experience of conceiving again soon after. I’ve found this quite comforting – the link if you’re interested is here.
• The Miscarriage Association in the UK is also a great source of info and advice. If you’re keen to check it out, the link is here.
• A resource closer home here in Australia is Sands which has a lot of info and support too. The link is here.

Until next time…