Holding a Space for your loss

I found out yesterday that I lost my baby. I was 11 weeks.

When I say found out, I mean it was confirmed during an ultrasound that there was no longer a heartbeat. But I knew a day before that. I had started spotting, and I was cramping differently than I ever had with my two daughters. I knew something was wrong. I had so much fear about that knowing.

I knew loss was coming. I didn’t want to speed that up, but I wanted to know. Coincidentally I had an ultrasound appt already set up. Knowing this was probably not going to be a good outcome, I called ahead, expressed my concerns and was told I really shouldn’t worry.

It was sweet of them to try, but I still worried- all night, because I knew.

The next day I show up for this scheduled appt, fully knowing something is wrong, and honestly- the pain from the reality of how shitty our approach to women’s health is, is almost worse than this loss.

I lay down, sonographer asks me what’s wrong, I explain the spotting and cramps, and then watch her fumble around, clearly panning over my no longer alive unborn child, pushing down on my abdomen harder as if that will maybe make the fact that there’s zero cardiac activity go away.

The pushing was awful, I was already in so much pain. But when I said “Did I lose my baby, please be honest, I can see, I just need to know” I was met with “Well I just can’t get this to work, so let me get the doctor in here to help us”. Now in comes the doctor, and newly created hope, when I came in solidly rooted in reality- only to tell me “Yes, I’m sorry there’s no fetal cardiac activity. It looks like it happened in the last week or so”. Nothing and everything at once. I felt nothing and yet everything at once. My absolute worst fear came true, and now I have to carry that truth and function with it.

With my fears confirmed, the grief, anger, confusion, fear, you name it it came- all that sets in. “Is there someone we can call for you”, “you can stay in the exam room until your husband comes, we’ll make sure to forward this info over to your doctor”.

Now, after finding out the worst news ever, I go to a different office for the scheduled appt with my doctor. I check-in behind a vibrant very pregnant soon to be mom, I try to hold back my tears, and seem like I’m also ok, as I give my name and take a seat next to a happy couple probably anxious for another ultrasound picture. The whole time I’m sitting there looking like a fucking hot mess. Tear stained everything, zero fucks about what I’m wearing, literally at a life low only women who have felt this can understand, and yet here I am being ushered into the waiting room of sunshine and rainbows. I came there to discuss how to go about this loss physically- there was no other room for me to check-in? No other way other than me immediately going from an ultrasound room learning my life has changed forever in a horribly sad way to a room full of people whose lives are about to change forever in the best way??!! I don’t want special treatment- but maybe some acknowledgement for dignity. But it’s ok, I lived.

Here’s my gripe- where is the goddamn consideration for this life experience? When you lose a part of your family- why must you sit there publicly in grief. Where is the empathy in the planning for that approach?

Full disclosure, I do work in therapy. I would like to think I am well sorted emotionally and mentally. But this rocks you. This hurts, this is fucking hard. It’s hard on you, those around you- it’s loss. And not once was I asked if I needed services, or told about services available to me for mental health. Now again, I personally didn’t need that, but all I’m thinking about are the women who do, the women who then have to search in vain to just be treated like what they’re feeling matters.

This isn’t just something to brush off and “get over”, and it doesn’t go away necessarily when the bleeding does- unfortunately.

So I’m here now, to say, you absolutely deserve to hold space however you need, whenever you need, to grieve, be in pain, talk, question, cry, yell, argue- whatever you need. But don’t wait on anyone to create that space for you. They likely won’t. And you don’t need them to. Because you are strong. And you get to decide exactly how and when that will play out.

You’ve earned that, in this moment of loss. You’ve earned your right on how you want to hold space- and don’t ever let anyone tell you how it should be held.

For all of you going through this, I’m so sorry. I pray for your healing, I pray for your well-being. And please, message me if you need help holding your space 💗