April 16,2015: I’ve been debating for a while on whether to write about this or not, and I finally decided to just do it. I’m a very transparent and upfront person, and I don’t like living two different lives. I’m open and blunt, and who I portray on social media is who I am. I’m outspoken and honest, and often times I’ve gotten in trouble for that, but that’s just who I am. I only ever want to be honest and upfront, and that is why I have decided to write about our experience.
Originally, I had only told all my close and intimate family and friends. I was so scared about word getting out ,and to be honest, I was mostly embarrassed. I was embarrassed about everything that had happened. I felt almost ashamed at the fact that my body “wasn’t able to carry” the baby (btw, i refuse to call it a fetus) that had grown inside me. That’s the kind of stuff that the devil will fill your heart and mind with. I remember thinking this really can’t be happening to me. This is stuff you hear about all the time, but never in a million years did I think it would ever happen to me. Only God knows why he let this happen to us, and I’m ok with that. He has a perfect plan for my little family and I’m thrilled to see what the future will bring. I only want to share my story hoping to help someone who has gone or is going through the same thing, and to tell you that you are not alone and that God always has a plan.
We had first found out we were pregnant on New Year’s Day. Surprise, surprise! It was unexpected and it took us by surprise. Apparently, all it takes is one try for some (heehee). I remember reading that little stick saying PREGNANT. My first thought was “Oh no, what did we do?!” It took a few days for us to fully comprehend the news, but after a few weeks we were thrilled. I didn’t schedule my first doctor’s appointment till the 3rd week of January, and that’s when we confirmed it all and found out I was “8 and a half weeks pregnant.” I remember squirming like a little girl that day full of shock and joy when they told us our due date was estimated at August 31, 2015. Everything seemed ok on our first visit. All the blood work and tests came out 100% clear. We weren’t able to hear our baby’s heartbeat that first visit because the baby was still too small. Not thinking anything of it, we scheduled our next appointment 5 weeks later (our last week in Indiana before our California move). We had only told my in-laws about the baby and had decided to wait to tell my parents till we got to California (March 2nd) only because I really wanted to tell them in person and see their reactions. If you know my mom, you’ll know that she’s been asking me for a baby since the day after my wedding.
About 2 weeks after my first doctor’s appointment (10 weeks pregnant), I remember waking up one morning kind of sad and worried. My husband noticed and immediately asked what was wrong. I told him I felt different. I felt as if I no longer had a living baby. I remember him getting upset and asking me not to say that so I never brought it up again. It was that week that I had noticed a sudden decrease in my nausea and breast tenderness (if you know anything about pregnancy or being pregnant you understand what I mean). Not trying to think anything of it, I figured maybe it had something to do with the fact that I was ALMOST out of my first trimester.
I finally hit 13 weeks. Four days later, I had my second doctor’s appointment. The nurse checked everything as usual- blood, hcG levels, blood pressure, etc.. When she attempted to hear the baby’s heartbeat, nothing. I can’t explain the feeling, but I felt as if my heart dropped down to my stomach. I knew right there and then that something was wrong. We then proceeded to get an ultrasound done to confirm what exactly was going on. The technician that did my ultrasound was very quiet and didn’t say much. She didn’t need to say much because the look on her face told us everything. Three days before our big happy move to California, our world was shattered.
I can’t explain the feeling, and if I had super powers to never let this happen to anyone, ever, I would use it, but only God knows why. All we could do was cry. We were both in shock.
As if that was not enough pain for me to bear, the actual miscarriage was even worse. Usually you start bleeding and start releasing tissue on your own, but not me. I was already “13 weeks” and still no blood or sign of miscarriage. I just knew that my baby was dead by what the doctors and ultrasound proved.
It took a process of almost 2 weeks. Two weeks of waiting hours at a hospital to get seen; constantly getting blood drawn every visit (my arm was bruised by the 3rd time and I cried every time); ultrasound after ultrasound both abdominal and vaginal (I felt so violated every time); and the worst thing every time was hearing the doctor tell me I had to come back again. Every time I went back, I had to go through the whole process again. And again my heart would break because I was once again reminded that my baby didn’t make it. It was the longest weeks of my life and it felt never ending. I was hurt. If I could have somehow made the process quick and easy I would’ve. But only God knows why he let me (us) go through all of that.
After “passing” all the remains, I waited a week to go back to the hospital just to make sure that I didn’t have anything left inside of me. When I finally went to the hospital to get checked out, we had to wait a total of 6 hours. They did the usual and we sat and waited hoping everything was clear and I was ok to leave, but no. The first doctor I saw said I didn’t release everything, and he said I might even need surgery to prevent an infection. Here we go again. That was the last thing I wanted to hear. I was tired of being “violated”. I was tired of being examined over and over. The doctor said he needed to go “in there” with a speculum and scrape out all the remains. This was a process that was going to be painful. I remember lying on the exam table, waiting for the doctor to come in and do the procedure. All I could do was cry. Once again, they were going to physically hurt me. My husband tried his best to comfort me and all I did was push him away and scold him. I laid there crying asking God to kill me (I know, so dramatic). I didn’t want to go through with the procedure. I literally asked God to take my life. My husband suggested praying, but I shouted out the words “No, I hate God.” I was done. This was the lowest point of my life and I hated it. And yes, I was beginning to become bitter towards my husband and God. After pleading with God for almost an hour, my first doctor came in with a gynecologist who then proceeded to say, you’re free to go. WHAT?!
Turns out my first doctor made a mistake and misread my ultrasound. I had passed all the remains. The bleeding was minimal and normal. I was finally cleared to go home! I got my discharge papers and was free to go.
That night my husband and I had a HUGE talk (it mostly consisted of me crying and him holding me). He knew I was hurt. And he also knew that this was causing me to push him away. I guess you can say I was bitter towards my husband too. I wanted him to feel the same physical pain I was going through.
As I write this out and re-read parts over and over, I’m appalled at the way I acted. I should be ashamed, but at the same time i’m amazed at how much I learned from it.
It’s taken time and I don’t know if I’ll ever “get over it”, but I’ve prayed and asked God to help me and heal me. I don’t ever want to be bitter towards God or to have jealous feelings towards other people because I understand that God has a perfect plan for us. It’s something I’m learning to accept. Every time I think about it I start to cry, but I also thank God for everything else that I do have. I thank God for the husband he gave me who has been my rock and comfort throughout the whole process (poor thing has been through the worst dealing with my emotions). And I trust God in knowing that it will happen in his perfect timing.
I write all of this because I am aware that I am not alone. I didn’t handle my miscarriage all too well, but I also didn’t let it destroy me. I decided to grow from it. Miscarriages happen more often than you think. And if you have been through the same thing that I have been through, I want you to know that you are not alone. It’s ok to be scared, it’s ok to be hurt, but please don’t ever let this eat you up and make you bitter. Life is too precious for that. Only God knows why he lets us go through what we went through. Also, please don’t have negative thoughts towards yourself. It is not your fault and there is nothing that you could’ve done different because God had already planned it. Just trust God. I too had so many different negative thoughts, beating myself up for nothing (“I went through 12 weeks of nausea and weight gain (almost 10 lbs.) all for nothing”) but eventually I learned to put it all in God’s hands and I decided to trust Him. He is the only one who can complete you and heal you.
I want to encourage others to do the same. This is not something you can just sweep under the rug. People get divorced over “incidents” like this. Don’t be afraid to talk to the “right people” about this. Don’t be afraid to reach out to other people. Seek counsel and let God use other people to help the healing process. To some this may not have been such a big deal and maybe they were able to handle it a lot better than me (us). But I’m here to be an encouragement to those who may be just like me (gosh I really hope I’m not the only crazy one).
With the whole moving process we had to find a new church and thankfully our previous pastor was able to guide us. We found a church we loved and we immediately got involved and joined a marriage class. I can honestly say that we learned more in that whole month of the miscarriage than we had in our (almost) 2 years of marriage. Our marriage has definitely gotten stronger and our relationship with God has gotten so much sweeter. There’s not a day that I don’t talk to God. Whether it be in the shower, while I’m doing my make-up, while I’m driving to work, etc.. I like to thank God daily for what I do have, and if we’re honest with ourselves, we know we don’t deserve anything that we have. I’m just thankful to God for EVERYTHING… including my miscarriage.
Thank you for reading and I hope this may have been of help to someone out there (feel free to share with anyone who might be interested). Just know that you aren’t alone and that God loves you very much.
Disclaimer: I am in no way looking for pity so please keep any “pity” comments to yourself. Please refrain from asking me questions about this in person. I am still human and my heart is still very sensitive over this matter. If I choose to talk about it, please let me bring it up. Also, please don’t ask if we’re trying again or when’s the next baby (even if you are our closest friends and family). Understand that we are at peace about this and we trust God to let it happen when the right time comes. Thank you.