This month brought the saying, “You never truly know what someone is silently going through,” into focus. You can’t always see the pain someone carries in their daily life. While your world keeps moving, others may be stuck in a place of hurt and struggle.
This past month has honestly been one of the hardest of my life.
On November 22nd, after dealing with occasional nausea for about a week, I decided to take a pregnancy test—and it came back positive.
My husband and I were both shocked but, of course, excited—especially at the thought of our 10-month-old having a close bond with their new sibling.
As usual, I was extremely sick. My kids’ last basketball game of the season on December 7th was so hard to get ready for. On top of that, my 10-year-old was sick that day, and since I was coaching alongside my husband, it was a real challenge. But no matter how tough it was, I refused to miss it.
Then the flu hit our entire family, and it was absolutely miserable—especially with the constant nausea I was already dealing with.
My husband had to take a lot of time off because I really needed his help, but we made it work. We stayed focused on the positives and reminded ourselves that it would all be worth it in the end when we got to meet our baby.
Around December 11th, I woke up with an intense feeling and even said out loud, “I don’t feel pregnant anymore.”
That feeling was odd to me because, in a way, I still felt pregnant—I was still severely nauseous and barely able to move around.
Two days later, after that feeling, I wiped and noticed blood. I broke down in tears because deep down, I knew—ever since I had that feeling, something had felt off. I tried to brush it off, telling myself it was just hormones or my past worries creeping back in.
My husband stayed so positive, trying to keep me calm and hopeful. I went to the doctor on the 14th, and the first thing they did was a urine pregnancy test. The doctor told me the test came back negative.
I cried right there, hearing those words. The doctor said urine tests can sometimes be faulty and suggested I get a blood test to check my HCG levels.
The blood results came back showing that I was pregnant. My hope began to rise again, and I started feeling that my baby could still be growing and to just keep the faith for a positive outcome.
At this point, I felt more hopeful. I went in for an ultrasound on December 16th, and the baby was measuring 8 weeks and 3 days. Everything looked normal, except they couldn’t find a heartbeat.
I scheduled an appointment with an OB and went in on December 20th.
The first thing they did was an ultrasound, and as I lay there, I saw my precious little baby appear on the huge screen in front of me. I burst into tears. There it was—the most precious little baby—but deep in my mama heart, I knew it wasn’t alive — I could just tell.
The heartbeat monitor appeared on the screen, and although the technician couldn’t say anything, I saw there was no heartbeat being detected. My heart shattered all over again.
I went into the room, waiting for the midwife to come in and give me my results. When she walked in, all she said was, “I am so sorry.” I burst into tears again and asked, “My baby doesn’t have a heartbeat, does it?”
She confirmed it, and I cried a lot. She was truly amazing, offering comfort and just sitting with me, talking through everything and explaining the next steps to take.
I had my HCG levels checked to make sure they were dropping, which only confirmed that my pregnancy wasn’t progressing. My levels had dropped by 17,000 in just 4 days, confirming the reality of the situation.
After speaking with the midwife, I decided to go with misoprostol and pass the baby at home. It wasn’t an easy decision. Initially, I chose a D&C, but they couldn’t fit me in until after Christmas, and I just wanted to get it over with. By that point, I had been on this emotional roller coaster for over a week — being told repeatedly my baby stopped growing.
This is my second miscarriage, and even though my last one was at 16 weeks, and I knew the gender and her name, this one has been just as tough mentally and physically. My heart goes out to all the families who have had to go through this or are currently going through it. It’s a heartache you never truly get over, and it’s the most painful kind of pain to experience.
I’ll be writing a separate post all about my experience with misoprostol because, when I was weighing my decision, there wasn’t much information available. I would have loved to read about someone else’s experience before making my choice, especially from a fellow mama who took the same route.
My experience with misoprostol was far from a smooth ride—it ultimately landed me in the hospital and required surgery. I’ll go into more detail in my upcoming blog post this week.
Until then, I’m sending my prayers to any mamas out there hurting in silence and going through the pain of losing your baby.
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