Our Journey to Parenthood, Part 1

The Missed Miscarriage

I have always, always wanted to be a mom. When I was in 5th grade we had to answer a few questions for a memory book and they asked us what our lives would look like at 25. I said in this exact order, I would be a teacher, I would be married and I would have 5 kids! Yes, 5 kids by 25. My fifth grade brain didn’t quite understand how long each kid needed to cook in order to have 5 by 25. 

Only one of those dreams had come to fruition, though I would consider myself a type of teacher as a para educator, my job at the time. If you’ve known me awhile or read some previous posts you’ve known my husband, John, and I have been married since February of 2019. We were 23 when we got married. When we first started talking seriously about getting married, we decided that we would wait a year or two before trying to have kids. Then we got married and almost immediately we changed our minds. We were both ready for children.  

On May 10, 2019, I was a day late for my period. We were on our way out of town for a wedding and I had my husband stop so we could buy a pregnancy test. I was so nervous to take the test that I avoided it the entire time we were away. It lived on the floor in the back seat of my car, wrapped securely in a plastic grocery sack. On May 12th, 2019, I was 3 days late and I couldn’t avoid it any longer. I wanted to take the test. I was shaking and had a cold sweat as I waited and waited for what seemed the longest 2 minutes of my life. Sitting on the edge of our bed, on Mother’s Day, I found out I was going to be a mama. 

John was with me when I took the first test, and I think the second test as well. So, I didn’t surprise him in any way to announce my pregnancy. Besides, he was with me when we bought the test in the first place! The next day after work, I scheduled my first doctor’s appointment. The nurse on the line told me we would have to wait until I was 8 weeks pregnant to come in. I scheduled our appointment for June 11, 2019.

The time between the test and the appointment passed without any hiccups. The school year ended. As a para educator I had a short break before summer school, I soaked up my time off by binge watching Charmed and sleeping in. I began experiencing quite a few “normal” pregnancy symptoms. I had a horrible aversion to onions and red meat, I had a lot of nausea (thankfully, no vomiting), I gained a few pounds and I had to pee ALL the time! My symptoms increased daily, and naturally all of these things made me feel like things were fine and everything was progressing as it should. 

The day of my appointment was a Thursday, it was in the afternoon so I didn’t have to take off work. My husband did take off work to be with me. This was considered my initial confirmation of pregnancy appointment. They did a urine pregnancy test, we learned some general information about the logistics of the practice and we were able to speak with my midwife to ask any questions. The interaction that I flash back to frequently was just after the initial intake when the nurse took all of my vitals, she looked at John and I and said “You guys are really excited, aren’t you?” That phrase haunts me because in the minutes following we would be walking out of the office with sadness and fear instead of joy and excitement. My midwife ordered an ultrasound for the same day to date the pregnancy. The doctors in the practice did this rarely but it was common among the midwives to have an ultrasound around 8 weeks to date the pregnancy and get an estimated due date. 

John and I were not expecting an ultrasound that day but we were not going to turn down the chance to see our baby for the first time. We waited in the clinic room, rather than the waiting room for the ultrasound. At the time, I knew very little about ultrasounds except for the fact that you could see the heartbeat starting around 6 weeks. Our anticipation only had a few minutes to build. We were taken back to the ultrasound room only a few minutes after our appointment. I can see this room very clearly in my memory, though I have never been back in it. It was a large room, larger than I expected. There was the bed/chair thing in the middle, the ultrasound equipment to the right, the visitors chair to the left, with more chairs lining the wall. The technician had her own ultrasound screen and there was also one on the wall in front of the bed and the visitors chair. 

I got myself situated on the bed and John sat next to me and we waited to see our baby. I knew that something was off pretty soon after we got started. I couldn’t see the heartbeat. The technician was quiet. At some point she mentioned that the baby measured smaller than what we believed. She said they looked to be about 6 weeks 1 day gestation. She also mentioned that the sac surrounding the baby was measuring right on time, around 8 weeks. 

In the medical field they classify this as a missed miscarriage. My body didn’t know my baby was dead so it was still preparing for the babies growth. Nothing in life can prepare you for the moment you find out you have been carrying your dead baby inside of you for 2 weeks. It turned my world upside down. I had no idea what to expect from this point on.

After the ultrasound my midwife saw me briefly and explained the findings from the ultrasound. She told me I might start bleeding in the next week or two but also had me schedule an ultrasound appointment to check for growth. I had never known anyone who had experienced a miscarriage before, so when my midwife shared that I might start bleeding I did not know what it would look like. I didn’t know how much blood to expect or when to call about not bleeding at all. I was lost. I felt unprepared for what my body was about to go through. We left the clinic in a state between hope and fear, we knew almost for certain that we would not meet our baby earth side, but there was a small sliver of hope for growth at the next scan. We scheduled the growth scan for the following Friday, so one week and one day from our initial appointment. I lived every day in fear, every night for the rest of that week I cried in the shower. 

The next day we had a dinner planned with my sister and my mom and dad. Before the appointment we had planned on telling them that we were pregnant. We were on the fence about sharing the news after learning about the possibility of miscarriage but, we ultimately decided to share that we were pregnant at dinner. This is another memory that haunts me and looking back, I wish we had waited to share the news with them. The excitement that my parents showed at the prospect of a grandchild is a bittersweet memory. Telling them that we had lost the baby was one of the hardest things I’ve done. I remember feeling like I just needed my mom to hold me (proof that you never stop needing your mother). She was miles away and comforted me the best way she could. We did not get the chance to tell John’s family in person. We had lost the baby before we were going to travel to visit them. John and I were both just sitting in grief so our conversation with them was brief. Neither one of us wanted to sit on the topic for long. 

After a week of living in fear, my worst nightmare came true. The following Wednesday I noticed some brown discharge after using the bathroom. I called my husband crying thinking “This is it, I am miscarrying.” He came rushing home. Like I mentioned earlier, I had no frame of reference for what a miscarriage looked like. I did not know what to expect, how much I would bleed, if it would hurt, I knew absolutely nothing. My husband thought we should go to the hospital. I thought we should stay home. “There is nothing they can do for us,” I said. We should have gone to the hospital. After some spotting, I thought that was it and it was over. I cancelled my growth scan the following day, thinking that my miscarriage was complete.

My grieving process began the moment they didn’t find a heartbeat and continues to this day. It has come in different waves. In the early days it felt like each new wave hit us before we could even stand up from the last one. I think this is due to our miscarriage lasting so long and having many different parts. The waves these days come less frequently but when it hits it can knock us down just as quickly. 

Looking back, I feel naïve about what happened to me. Ultimately, I blame the medical professionals. They should have prepared me and my husband better. They should have explained what to expect and told us when to call about any issues. Medical professionals should be better equipped to handle miscarriage and care before, during and after miscarriage. Since then I have learned that there are different options for miscarrying after discovering there is no heartbeat. I wish we could have learned about these options at our appointment but I didn’t know what to ask. Instead of learning about them from medical professionals I learned about them through blog posts and instagram. 

Click here for part 2.