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My purpose is two-fold: I am really struggling mentally today, and feel that the urge to share details of the past few days will help me process. I also really hope that, for those who may appreciate such details, this may help others too. Otherwise I wouldn’t share. While many women here are very open in wonderful ways, I hope it will help some (myself included) to feel less isolated by understanding more details of individual experiences regarding miscarriage. I know this isn’t for everyone, and I respect that. If you are one of those, please offer the same understanding and respect in return, and move on. No judgement❤️

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I happily hit 8 weeks with #3 last Friday. My first prenatal appointment was in a week, and I was expecting a call any day to schedule a dating ultrasound. The only odd thing was my low back was acting up enough to need my TENS unit. No cramping, no bleeding, and I had actually been experiencing an intensely heightened libido as I waited for my husband to come home from work. I’d been pregnant 6 times previously, with two carried to term. I don’t remember the reason, but I stayed up late and was very tired the next morning, so I turned on old episodes of Sesame Street and cuddled my kiddos with snacks and drinks, and dozed. I was too tired to notice the toilet after emptying my bladder. Too tired to flush.

After lightly dozing through a couple episodes I felt much better and got my day and chores started. About 11am I went to empty my bladder again and was shocked at the blood I saw in the toilet. There’s only one place it could have come from. Sure enough, my underwear was soaked. Shaken, but still calm, I contacted my husband at work, and a cousin who could watch the kids, took a shower, and got ready to go get checked out.

A couple hours later I was sitting in urgent care, blood already having been drawn, and waiting for my turn to be called back. At first, it didn’t seem particularly busy for a Saturday, though the waiting area was moderately full. I soon overheard a woman asking a staff member how much longer she could be expected to wait, as she had been waiting an hour and a half. The staff member only replied that they were seeing people in order of arrival. I knew that I was not of critical importance, as little, if anything could be done for me, regardless of what was happening. So I used the bathroom and came back to settle in for a wait.

***I found even heavier bleeding, nickel-sized clots, and cramping had intensified.

For two hours I was curled up through wave after wave of the most intense cramping I could remember having in years. Due to years of autoimmune issues, arthritis, and various injuries, I have a high tolerance for pain and discomfort. But I was brought to the brink of tears at the crest of every wave in that last hour. Then it stopped so suddenly I almost didn’t realize it. The residual aching, brain fog and fatigue made it so difficult to truly understand everything that was happening. I vaguely knew what was likely happening. But the thoughts still seemed so distant and, until all test/exam results came in, I knew there was still hope.

***

I was called back, chatted with the doctor who, despite my description of what I was experiencing, referred to my bleeding as “spotting.” Another bhcg test was ordered for the following Monday, an ultrasound was ordered to be done immediately after this visit at a nearby hospital, and she would assess my cervix. By this time, I also learned my initial bhcg, drawn several hours earlier, was 562.

The doctor stepped out for me to disrobe. A chux pad was placed on the table for my “spotting”. I removed my soaked postpartum pad I had leftover from my daughter’s birth, sat on the chux pad and waited.

***

Several minutes later I felt the faintest tickle down my leg, lifted the blanket in my lap, to discover a gush of blood had run down my legs and created a puddle on the floor beneath my feet. Startled, I jumped up, which resulted in even more bloodflow, and I dizzily and anxiously, and half naked, started wiping up the blood.

***

Of course mid-mess is when the doctor walked in. Though I struggled to get the words out to explain what happened, a couple glances by her was immediately followed with concern, compassion, an apology, and assurances that they will take care of everything and I don’t need to worry about cleaning up. She helped me settle into the position she needed me in, inserted the (thankfully) plastic speculum, and informed me there was too much blood for her to see my cervix. Half under her breath she mentioned something about a clot, as I felt what seemed to be an effort to move enough blood to try to see my cervix. She was unsuccessful, helped me sit up, and discussed with me the expected plans for any outcome the tests would show.

Of course an ectopic pregnancy was possible. There was a chance the pregnancy was still viable, but if this is indeed a miscarriage, I was informed of all the things I should look out for as well as possible interventions in the event of happenings x, y or z. She then left to find what she could for me to use for the bleeding, as standard pads were not enough. She brought back for me “depends,” or adult-sized diapers. I was grateful as I really didn’t want to put my underwear back on.

***

Getting off the table I immediately grabbed more wipes to try to clean myself up, turned around to find my pants, and stopped for another shock: a golf-ball sized mound of a clot laying on the table. Upon closer inspection, obvious tissue was clearly visible, and I just blinked at it.

***

Taking the doctor for her word to not worry about any cleanup, I just got dressed, asked for a bag for my dirty clothing, and numbly made my way to the hospital for the ultrasound. No fetal pole, or even a gestational sac, could be seen. I was asked to empty my bladder before she used the vaginal wand for a more thorough exam.

***

While on the toilet, with another bit of cramping and pain, I passed another clot so large I felt it pass through my vagina.

***

I just took a deep breath, flushed, washed my hands, and went back to the ultrasound room to finish the exam. The doctor called me a couple hours later to confirm that no evidence of pregnancy was seen. Of course there was the possibility “that you ovulated later than normal and everything is too small to be seen yet,” which means an ectopic pregnancy couldn’t be ruled out without further testing. So all we could do was wait for my next bhcg test.

Yesterday I had my blood drawn, and my bhcg was 51. I wasn’t surprised by this. Yet the confirmation has been a knock-the-wind-out-of-me blow to the gut. I’m grateful that my body doesn’t seem to need help to take care of things so far. I’m also grateful that I no longer have to be on pelvic rest, because, strangely, despite everything that was happening, I wanted so badly to be intimate with my husband. Not because I was horny, not because I wanted to ttc right away. I knew my husband was hurting, emotionally, as much as I was, and in his own way. I married a wonderful Samoan man; my Maui with short hair and a soul patch also doesn’t do well expressing hard emotions, and prefers to focus emotions through physical activity. I wanted to push away the world for a short time, and feel the strength, and warmth, and comfort of my husband’s long arms and large hands holding me. I wanted to feel his broad body, and raw strength wrapped around me, skin-to-skin, holding me together in the bond I have only ever known with him. I wanted that feeling of acceptance, assurance, and love despite all my flaws and struggles and pains. And I wanted to feel all this sadness, pain and grief in my most vulnerable state with the person I chose to trust the rest of my life with. For spiritual reasons, I also wanted to feel the tenderness and sacredness of the covenants we made together, and the depth of the emotional, physical, and spiritual bond we share. And, because of how he is with emotions, I knew (though he certainly wouldn’t express it with nearly so many words), that he would feel all the acceptance, connection and support the same way. And he fell asleep in the middle of our initial tender, naked embrace and soft kisses…😅🤣 To be fair, the man works his a$$ off in concrete to provide for us.

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