I had my first miscarriage in August of 2011. I was 22 and found out five days before I missed my period. I weighed 230, smoked a pack a day, and spent money like crazy. I smoked a cigarette and immediately started gagging. I’ll never forget seeing that second line show up on the test. It was faint, but in the short amount of time it took to show up, my life changed immediately. I wasn’t in a relationship with the father and when I told him I was pregnant, after my GYN confirmed, he said “I’m coming to pick you up and we’re going to the hospital.” In shock I asked why he would need to bring me there. He said “You’re having an abortion. You can’t do this to me. You can’t ruin my life.” I was lucky to have a strong support system even with the father harassing me every day. We worked together and he would constantly instant message me through the work system begging me not to go through with it.

I began spotting at 5 1/2 weeks and I was put on progesterone suppositories from the beginning due to the low level. The heart beat was there on the ultrasound but the Dr wouldn’t let me hear it. I only got a glimpse of my baby, no photo to take home. I knew I was going to lose the baby. My aunt told me to stay positive, but I knew... I had that feeling..Four days later the bleeding got heavier, I went back and heard the worst four words of my life “There is no heartbeat.” I broke down. I decided on a D&C.; The baby that I was so attached to in that short amount of time became like a growth that needed to be removed ASAP. When I told the father, he asked me if I needed a ride to the hospital. I told him to go f himself.

After the D&C; I started smoking again, I joined Weight Watchers and lost 89lbs (at the most over the course of six years). The father began dating someone three months after my miscarriage and they had a baby. I told myself that God knew what He was doing and that he wasn’t the guy for me and that He had bigger plans for me.

In July 2012 my high school sweetheart/ best friend and I began dating again. We moved in together in November of 2016 and have talked of marriage and kids. My previous miscarriage has always been in my mind, but the chances of having two losses in a row are 2%.

On January 14th, I gagged smoking a cigarette. I took a test and there was that second line. I cried happy tears because we weren’t trying but it happened. In fact I was on the pill. I told my boyfriend and after a bit of shock, he looked at me and said “We’re actually having a baby, aren’t we?” My first blood test showed a low HCG of 20. My Dr told me it could be low and asked that I go in again on the 22nd. Due to the last pregnancy, she started me on Progesterone suppositories right away. We stayed positive, told some family, and even went on Pinterest and began picking out names. I googled and read stories about low HCG in the third week and that low isn’t bad, that the increase is important.

On Tuesday my midwife called me, while I was at work, and said that my level didn’t increase and instead dropped to 15. I broke down. It was happening again to me. She told me to stop the progesterone and wanted me to meet with the Dr. I went and met with the Dr yesterday and she said the decrease meant the pregnancy wasn’t heading in the right direction but numbers didn’t mean everything. She also said if I did miscarry again that she wanted me to see get a work up to find out why.

This morning I started spotting and within an hour began bleeding like a heavy period. My lower back has been in a lot of pain. I go for an ultrasound tomorrow and then to the Dr, but I know what this is. It’s the end.

I’m hoping that there’s answers when I go for the work up. I hate feeling this way. I hate feeling like God is punishing me. I hate getting excited and then having my heart ripped out. I hate not wanting to try again for fear of another miscarriage. I hate the thought of not being able to have a child. I hate that next time I won’t be excited because it might end the same way.