You're Not Alone: My Experience with a Silent Miscarriage

 As I sit here and type this, four months out from my miscarriage, I know I am not alone. But on that day, I didn't know a single soul who had experienced what I was going through. The very term 'miscarriage' seemed almost inappropriate to say. A taboo subject in our otherwise open society--and unfortunately so. 

I first learned I was pregnant on Father's Day, 2020. It was an exciting day for our family as we began to imagine life with another little one to love and cherish. I began telling our two year old daughter there was a baby in my belly and, as I began to bloat, I pointed out my 'baby bump' to her. As someone who has a lot of anxiety around the unknown, I'm a strict planner. That being said, I began to immediately plan out my pregnancy; I bought a pregnancy journal on Amazon and began journaling each week. I created a new Pinterest board titled, "Baby Number 2". I downloaded a pregnancy app and started getting email updates on my growing babe. 

Soon enough it was time for my first OB appointment. Because of COVID, I went alone (though I later learned that since I was getting an ultrasound I was allowed one support person, so please check with your provider to see if they have similar rules). I got into the exam room and changed into my open-backed hospital gown to prepare for my ultrasound. My OB began and when he found the baby, it seemed unusually quiet. The image was still. I sat still as he quietly continued to make routine measurements but with each second that went by I felt more and more uneasy. Something wasn't right. I looked to the corner of the screen where it read "6wk 3d" and my heart sank. I was supposed to be 9 weeks along. At this point my OB still hadn't said anything, but in my heart I knew. 

Soon enough he turned to look at me and there was pain in his eyes. His words, "Unfortunately, I'm not finding a heartbeat at this time" will stick with me forever, I expect. He explained to me that likely the baby had stopped growing three weeks ago but to be sure I'd need to come back for a second scan in a week. 

This week was the longest of my life. Caught between being pregnant and losing my baby. I wanted to keep my hopes up--perhaps I was three weeks off somehow. But no. I calculated it in my head over and over and over and it just wasn't possible. There was no way this would end in a successful pregnancy and yet I waited the week and arrived again at the hospital, this time with my husband for support. As I waited in the lobby with other visibly pregnant women and mothers with their newborns I got increasingly anxious. Upon getting into the exam room I methodically put on the open back hospital robe and settled myself onto the exam chair. My OB came in and this time the ultrasound was quick. My worst fears were confirmed with the stagnant image on the screen and the accompanying text, "6wk 1d". Numbers that should have increased by 7 days had decreased by 2. 

Honestly, the rest of the appointment was kind of a blur. Words of consolation were quickly followed by practical concerns. What comes next? My options were to either have a D&C which is a surgical procedure, to take medication, or to wait it out to naturally take its course. It had already been an entire month since my baby stopped growing and the Dr. said it could be days, weeks or another month until by body realized I wasn't pregnant any longer. I couldn't mentally handle another month of pregnancy symptoms but no pregnancy and I was concerned about the possibility of miscarrying at work. I decided to take the medicinal route. 

I wont go into detail about the actual miscarriage, but that information is out there if you're maybe in a similar situation and wanting to know what to expect. Aside from the physical reminders that I was no longer pregnant, mental recovery was very difficult for me. I grieved heavily for day. Not only did I not know anyone who personally experienced this, but even my husband--who shared my grief--could not understand the physical reminders that faced me every second of the day. I truly felt alone. 

After a while I began to open up to close friends and family about my loss. Personally, this was the best thing I could have done and I can't advocate communication enough to someone else going through this. The truth is, you do feel alone. But the other truth is, you are never alone. As I started to open up about my situation I began to learn of other women who had experienced miscarriage . They so kindly gave me their sympathies and encouragement and helped me to shoulder the weight I'd been carrying around. 

My physical recovery lasted about a week but as I write this I am still mentally recovering from the loss of my baby and am struggling with the anxiety that comes with the possibility of another pregnancy. I know that baby was  not meant to be part of this world and that God had other plans, but knowing that doesn't take away the human feelings of anxiety, loss and grief. And that's okay. I feel these things but I push forward. I feel the loss, but I pray for another chance. I feel the grief, but I acknowledge the other joys in my life. And most of all, I feel the anxiety of trying again, but hold onto the hope of what our future will bring. 

Pregnancy loss, no matter how early, is obviously extremely difficult. It's emotional and seemingly uncharted. I didn't know other women who had experienced the same thing. Since being open about my story I now know several dear friends as well as so many supportive internet friends who can share in my grief and recovery. That community has helped me so much. I so encourage anyone dealing with a pregnancy loss to open up to a trusted friend, family member, partner or therapist. You are truly never alone. We are out here and we will support you.